#janitor of heart stain rising

[duckapus]

The first five MRU universes

So again, gonna be a while before these actually happen because I want to actually write out the process of Piper stealing the HMG research, some of the preparations for Launch Day, and the actual First Activation, and I'm waiting until after I finish the Wonder Arc to write those so I don't end up abandoning it half-finished for months. But I at least wanted to list them out.

Again, universe 1 is basically the Test Universe, while 2-5 are in one batch that gets activated all at once.

The Legend of Zelda: Tears of the Kingdom

Anchor: Link

Supervisor: Trinity

MRUs: 0 and 1

To justify having references to every game (because why wouldn’t it) Time Portals appeared basically everywhere at the same time the Memes did. Also, the Internet Graveyard got merged with the Wild-Era Sacred Realm (which was obviously never visited and is at the current End of the timeline so it doesn’t mess anything up and I can do whatever I want with its aesthetic). Yes, whoever did the setup had to get every Korok seed so the Key Items menu couldn’t canonically update and potentially break something. They did, in fact, get a raise for that.

Hamtor Tubez

Anchor: Doc the Hamtor

Supervisor: GIF

MRUs: 2 and 3

A puzzle game about leading Hamster-like creatures called Hamtors through elaborate tube mazes. Doc is a Mad Scientist and the leader of the Hamtors and is training them for when he will one day TAKE OVER THE WORLD!!!!, and there’s other unique Hamtors with special abilities that get introduced throughout the game as new puzzle elements.

Beneath the Faerie Mound

Anchor: Frida

Supervisor: Quazar

MRUs: 4 and 5

A metroidvania about a Changeling who gets Taken Back and has to fight her way out of Faery Country so she can return home. She initially thinks that MRU5 is another faerie who's come to try Taking her again.

The Fairly Oddparents!

Anchor: Timmy Turner

Supervisor: Spreadsheet

MRUs: 6 and 7

Look, making the Pokemon Anime universe part of the AU has set the precedent for also being able to use cartoons as SMG/MRU universes instead of just Games.

Interestingly, the Memes changing things to make the universe more entertaining undid a lot of the later season retcons, especially the Season 9 ones, so a lot of the characters are actually less Mean and Stupid than before. I'm using kid Timmy because he's the Real One so the live action movies and That One Spinoff aren't canon outside of memes, but Nicktoons Unite and its sequels are. So are seasons 9 and 10, 10 because I happen to like Chloe (or at least what she had the potential to be) and 9 because I think it would be funny to have Sparky be The Thing We Never Speak Of among the characters who would know about him.

Janitor of Heart: Stain Rising

Anchor: Rodney Teegan (Champion Form only)

Supervisor: Connectivity

MRUs: 8 and 9

A Magical Girl Beat-'em-Up that's actually a tie-in to an in-universe comic series called Rodney Teegan: Janitor of Heart.

The premise of the comic series is that a girl named Mina Reynolds who is Exactly the sort of person you'd expect to be a Magical Girl Protagonist gets her chance to when her school is attacked by a goop monster (part of an eldritch being known as The Stain) and she finds a magic bracelet containing the Spirit of Heart, Harmony, who chooses her as the Champion of Heart. But, when she tries to transform, some wires get crossed somewhere and the bracelet's power instead flows into Rodney Teegan, a 57-year-old janitor who Mina considers a close friend and who was with her when she found the bracelet. And because the transformation is based on what Mina wanted to look like as a magical superhero, he ends up in the body of a teenage girl with a cute poofy pink outfit. Whoops.

In his Champion form, Rodney has the expected enhanced strength, and can heal very quickly, but his main power is being able to turn cleaning supplies into weapons. It can be something as simple as a broom (in fact his signature weapon is a spear made from a push broom) or as massive and complex as a street sweeper truck. Also, Harmony isn't just a Cute Mascot Character and actually joins in fighting, mainly using super-strong punches and kicks and acting as a healer. Mina still has the bracelet (it actually can't come off at all) and needs to be nearby in order for Rodney and Harmony's powers to work. I have not come up with what Rodney's hero name would be.

Anyway, the game depicts the events of a particularly large Stain attack, this one being an invasion of the whole city, but other than the larger workload it'd be a fairly normal day (since by this point the three of them are more-or-less used to this since it's been a few months) if not for someone new joining the fray. It turns out that Harmony isn't the only Spirit in town, because we're introduced to the Champion of Storms, Thunderbird, and her Spirit partner Zap. Thunderbird has weather control powers, usually favoring lightning, and has a strange transforming mechanical construct that she uses both as a weapon and mobility aid, usually mechanical wings, giant electrified gauntlets, or supersonic skates. She's fighting the stain too, but has apparently decided to start a rivalry with Rodney's team instead of working with them just 'cause. Also, when her machine isn't in Skate Mode it's revealed that she has a translucent magical construct in place of her right leg.

She's eventually revealed to be Hazel O'Brien, one of Mina's classmates. The machine is her wheelchair, which transformed along with her because why wouldn't it?

Interestingly, Connected Cosmos Company were the ones who made the game, and also the ones who came up with Hazel and her Thunderbird persona. However, due to the terms of the licensing agreement the comic's creator owns the rights to the character, and has made sure that the specific designer in CCC who made her gets the royalties for the character being used in the comic (because the game is canon to the comic and Hazel's now a major character), rather than the company as a whole. She's the one character created by CCC that Jayin doesn't own, and I like to think that grates on her, especially because she can't do anything about it without damaging her company's carefully cultivated reputation.

Anyway, as far as the MRU stuff goes, there is one odd quirk about Rodney's Anchor Status: due to only his Champion Form being playable, his Anchor code is dormant in his normal form. Thankfully this doesn't cause problems for the Meme Cycle or the universe's stability, and it doesn't have the same negative effects as actively suppressing his Anchor Tendencies would. It does, however, make it so his Champion form has a different personality (bubbly airhead with occasional violent tendencies) than his normal form, which is very much Not A Thing in canon.

[dothwrites]

13 and 20

13. and 20.--Detective AU and Teacher AU

---

Castiel represses a sigh as he stands up straight. His spine pops as he subtly stretches out the kinks in his aching body.

He'd thought that he was a reasonably fit man, but bending over and scrubbing at filthy floors and tables every day is playing hell with his lower back.

The bell rings, and Castiel curses under his breath as he moves back against the wall. Less than thirty seconds later, all of the doors near him burst open and a flood of teenagers courses into the hallway.

Castiel's had a lot of unpleasant assignments in his life, but going undercover at Carver Edlund High School is among the worst. He thought that he'd seen some of the worst that humanity had to offer: murderers who cared nothing for the pain of their victims, kidnappers who plunged families into turmoil for years, robbers who were willing to kill just in order to get a few quick bucks. But upon seeing the horror show of the cafeteria after a group of freshmen finished lunch, Castiel has to start reevaluating his list of atrocities.

The tardy bell rings, and Castiel sighs as he steps out in the hall. He rolls his eyes at the debris that the students have left behind and grabs his push broom to start clearing it away.

Going undercover at Carver Edlund wasn't Castiel's first choice of assignments, but with several students ending up in the hospital due to drug overdoses, something drastic had to be done. Castiel's job is simple: gather as much intelligence as he can about where the drugs are coming from. If possible, he's to find the dealer and shut the whole production down.

In theory, it's a good assignment. Success here would mean a potential commendation, maybe a promotion if the operation is big enough. But the reality of the situation is much different. Castiel's been masquerading as a member of the maintenance team for a little over a week, and he's no closer to finding the source of the drugs than he was when he started.

His captain had ultimately decided to send him in as a member of the janitorial staff for access reasons: as a janitor, he has keys to every door. Not even lockers are safe from him. There's no place in the school off-limits to him. Unfortunately, it also means that his opportunities for questioning potential suspects are limited: no high school student wants to have long conversations with the janitor. He's reduced to sweeping around gaggles of kids, hoping that they'll just so happen to let something slip.

His plan hasn't worked. So far, he's learned about the latest TikTok challenge, who's rumored to have slept with who, and who on the football team is getting suspended, but drugs? Either these kids are savvier than he gives them credit for, or they don't know anything.

"Oh, sorry, 'scue me... Oh. Hi, Steve."

It takes Castiel just a second too long to respond to the name. Part of that is because he's still not used to answering to his cover name, and part of that is because he's still not sure how to act around Dean Smith.

He braces himself before he turns around, but that still doesn't prepare him for the sight of Dean Smith leaning against the wall. Looking at him is like looking into the sun, if the sun was in a dingy hallway with flickering florescent lights and questionable stains on the floor. Even with those inauspicious surroundings, however, Dean Smith, with his sandy hair, vibrant eyes, freckles, and bright, crooked grin, stands out.

"Hello, Dean." Castiel allows the hint of a smile to cross his face. He'd called Dean 'Mr. Smith' exactly once before Dean had put a stop to it.

"Oh, no," he said, grimacing in distaste, "I get enough of that from the kids. Just Dean, man." Castiel hadn't argued, and the slightly stuffy Mr. Smith became Dean.

"Another beautiful day cleaning up the debris of the world?" Dean gestures towards the small pile of dirt and dust that Castiel has managed to collect.

"It's a dirty job, but someone's got to do it," Castiel answers.

No doubt his superiors would be screaming if they could see him right now. Zachariah, his Captain, would sneer, You're there to catch drug dealers, Novak, not to play nice with pretty boy teachers, but Zachariah isn't here right now. Plus, it's not like Castiel's making any headway on the drug dealers, so he might as well indulge his crush with a guy who's miles out of his league.

Dean is the kind of good-looking that gets noticed by modeling companies in the line at the cafe. Castiel has found himself wondering, more than once, what a guy like him is doing substitute teaching. It's obvious that Dean is smart, and he doesn't doubt that he could have a job doing whatever he wanted. Still, Dean's being a substitute teacher works out well for him, so he doesn't complain. Not if it means that he can be just a little closer to him.

Maybe if Castiel wasn't undercover and wearing an unflattering jumpsuit with the name 'Steve' stitched across the front pocket. Maybe if he were dressed in his customary suit and had a badge and gun to flash around. Maybe, maybe, maybe.

"Don't talk to me about dirty jobs," Dean says, his voice entirely too low and insinuating for the circumstances. Heat blooms underneath Castiel's collar.

"Well, I'm not sure what else to talk to you about," he confesses. He resents the broom handle in his hands.

Dean shrugs. His smile is still carefree, but there's something else in his eyes when he says, "What about any books that you've read lately? TV shows that you've watched?" His eyes flash to Castiel's, and his tongue flirts with his lower lip as he asks, "Restaurants that you'd like to go to?"

Castiel's heart stutters. For a second, it sounded like... But that can't be right. Dean can't be inviting him out. Guys like Castiel don't go out with guys like Dean. That's just the way the world works. Maybe if he was Detective Castiel Novak, but now when he's Janitor Steve.

He takes a second too long to answer. By the time that he's managed to figure out that Dean is serious, Dean's expression has shuttered. He flashes a painfully fake smile at Castiel. "Hey, man, don't worry about it. I'll catch you later, okay?"

He's turning to go, and fear grabs at Castiel. He knows that if he lets Dean walk away, then everything will change between them. No more jokes, no more stolen conversations in the hallways. They'll become nothing more than vague, uneasy colleagues, at least until Castiel's assignment ends and he disappears forever from Dean's life.

The indignity of his assignment and the frustration of his ineptitude rises in Castiel, and bursts out of him in a quick call. "Dean!"

Dean turns around. Hope flickers in his eyes before he hides it. "Yeah?" he asks. The carefully blank tone in his voice is like a knife twisting in Castiel's chest.

"I like Italian food," Castiel answers. He offers a hesitant smile towards Dean, hoping against hope that Dean will accept his overture.

After a second, Dean's smile spreads slowly across his face, as bright as the sunrise. "Yeah," he says, nodding slowly, "yeah, I think we could do that."

---

Dean's heart dances in his chest as he walks away from Steve.

He did it. After weeks of ogling and tentatively flirting, he finally asked out the hot janitor.

Steve is a lot more than a pair of pretty blue eyes and a five o'clock shadow that makes Dean's lip yearn for stubble burn, though. (Though Steve does fill out a jumpsuit better than anyone Dean's ever seen. One day, he was lifting a desk onto the dolly so that it could be moved, and Dean thought his eyes were about to pop out of his skull. Between the thick thighs attempting to pop the seams on his pants, and the biceps rippling, Dean hadn't known where to look.) Steve has a wicked sense of humor, an innate sense of kindness, and he's caught every single one of Dean's literary references (the pop culture ones, not so much. Seriously, who's never seen Indiana Jones?). There's more to Steve than meets the eye, and Dean's itching to peel back the dozens of layers.

He ignores the tiny voice in the back of his head (which sounds like an alarming mix of Sam and Bobby) saying Don't get too involved. This is a temporary thing. Dean frowns and tries to tell the voice to shut the fuck up.

He's only here for as long as it takes him to figure out who's bringing drugs into the school. At the first viable lead, he'll be yanked out, and Dean Smith, substitute teacher, will die, to be replaced by Agent Dean Winchester of the DEA.

Because of the environment, there are multiple law enforcement agencies working on this case. There's state police, the DEA, and maybe even a few FBI agents sniffing around. It's naive to believe that there aren't other agents working in the school, but he hasn't come across any yet that he knows of. He's not entirely sure; he lets Bobby deal with all of the inter-agency bullshit. He has his mission and his cover, and Bobby, as his handler, can navigate every other pitfall.

Beyond small talk and leading conversations, Dean hasn't tried to get close with anyone. Every smiling face could conceal an undercover agent or a dealer. With suspicion everywhere, it's best not to succumb to temptation.

Which makes his attraction to Steve all the more intriguing.

Just thinking of the other man sets off a series of fireworks in the pit of Dean's belly.

This is probably a terrible idea, doomed to failure, but Dean is going to enjoy the ride while it lasts.

Whistling, he goes back to the classroom and prepares for his next class.

[maplecornia]

chapter 7

𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔡 𝔠𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔱: 2.04K

𝔤𝔢𝔫𝔯𝔢: romance | slice of life | fluff | angst | bts x female!reader | ot7

𝔰𝔲𝔪𝔪𝔞𝔯𝔶: You watched them from the sidelines ever since you were a young teenage girl. Now you’re grown up, they’ve returned after 2 long years and everything has changed. What happens when you pull back the mask and find the darkness within? What happens when you see that they’re broken?

𝔞/𝔫: so yeah, i've decided to start uploading every day for this story until i'm caught up with the chapters i have. i'll tell you guys when i'll go back to posting once a week.

𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰: cliffhangers | angst | fluff | slight mentions of self hatred | depression | mental health illness | self harm | occurs in the year 2024 | set in a timeline where BTS went to the military together | slight language

tags:@kookaine |@fangirl125reader |@kookiebbyxx |@taradevonne

You almost faint in disbelief.

It's him, it's him.

Jeon Jungkook.

That's his face, those are his eyes, and that is his body.

Real, and right in front of you.

Heart pounding in your chest, you find yourself unable to breathe, your chest constricting and your mind going blank. You're faintly aware of the towel crinkling in your hands, and your feet propelling you backward, away from him. If he notices, he doesn't show it, seeming almost as frozen as you are.

You would know him anywhere.

The golden maknae of BTS, the one who’s made you laugh over and over multiple times before, the one who's good at everything, the sweet and handsome Jeon Jungkook.

Even after all these years, he still looks the same.

As he looks up at you, his hair falls in strands across his forehead. It's his natural color, a deep midnight black, with brown undertones. It looks as though he tried to do it in the morning, but a little too much dance practice has destroyed his efforts. There’s a slight sheen of sweat on his skin, complimenting the smooth soft complexion and making him shine as though he were a drop of moonlight befallen on the earth.

As he blinks, long feathery eyelashes cast small shadows on his cheeks, complementing the dark brown color of his irises. He opens his mouth to speak, but no words form, the same curve to his lips making it seem as though he were smiling even the tiniest bit your way. In the back of your mind, you recall how those lips would spread whenever he smiled, transforming his sweet face into one similar to that of a bunny.

As he moves even the slightest bit, your gaze travels to his jaw and you swallow hard.

Even his body is the same.

He's still tall and strong, sure and trained muscle rippling beneath his slight build. The coffee has even helped in this aspect, his shirt sticking to his chest and accenting his toned pectorals and sculpted abs beneath. You can see it in the muscle of his thighs, showing through his jeans, and the strong structure of his forearm. It even shows in the veins on his hands.

He looks the same as the day he left with the rest of BTS, leaving you behind.

At the thought, you sadly look away.

You had forgotten those days, forgotten the emptiness you felt in their absence.

You had forgotten about them for a while.

Perhaps that's the worst part.

What are you going to do?

You just bumped into Jeon Jungkook, probably the most beloved and adored member of BTS. Spilled his coffee all over him with not so much as a drop falling on you, and then proceeded to gawk at him.

You can't get all starry-eyed over an idol.

Especially not now.

Inwardly, you remind yourself that he’s just another person. He's just another human being, just someone else who lives on the same planet as you do.

Yeah, he's just another globally renowned person.

Half of the world's population is either in love with him or wanting to be like him.

Not to mention he's incredibly talented, with a great personality and heart of gold.

Nothing to worry about.

Glancing up at him, you can see he seems to have forgotten about you and is currently trying to rub the coffee stains off with the edge of his sleeve.

Smiling softly, you remember the towel you had retrieved moments ago and look towards him, swallowing hard.

“Mr. Jeon Jungkook?” your voice is soft, almost inaudible, and you silently curse yourself. Seriously, how much further are you going to embarrass yourself? Nevertheless, it draws his attention and he immediately looks up. At the sight of his eyes on you once more, your heart skips a beat.

“Here, you might need this.” Noticing the towel in your hands, he takes it from you, your fingers brushing against each other for a split second.

Almost as soon as he takes it from you, you snatch your hand back, trying to ignore the rapid beating of your heart and the faint blush rising in your cheeks. He smiles at you, politely, before nodding his head and murmuring what you think is a thank you, but you can't tell.

Looking away, you spy the mess on the floor.

Eyes widening, you immediately drop to your knees, pulling out another towel and starting to clean up the marble tile. It’s the least you can do after making a mess such as this. As you scrub up the floor, you can hear people whispering behind you and are faintly aware of a janitor in the far corner gazing at you in amazement.

You don't care, this is keeping your mind off of him.

This is distracting you from reality, at least for a moment.

But Jungkook has other plans.

You don't notice it when he pauses from cleaning his shirt and stares at you on the floor. Nor when he kneels and peers at you almost curiously. You don't even notice as he waves away a few staff members who inquire if he’s okay, or if he needs any help. You don't spy the faint smile playing on his lips as you dutifully clean up your mess.

Nor do you see when he takes the towel you gave him and cleans the floor beside you, setting the empty coffee cup to the side.

When you glance up from your work, and his face is there, just a few inches away from yours, you blink, startled.

His eyes meet yours, just like before, but this time they aren't as scared. This time, they’re friendly, almost nervous, but welcoming as they hold your attention once more. He smiles, softly, before reaching forward and taking the towel from your hand.

Inhaling sharply, you flinch away, surprised by the touch.

At the movement, his eyes falter in confidence and he looks away, shutting down once more. Only, you don't want him to shut down again. Frantically, you search for words, anything to say to him.

“I...” As he looks up at you, it's as though all your butterflies are gone and your mind is no longer blank. Things become clear and you know what you have to say.

“I’m sorry.”

At your words, he seems taken aback, as though he weren't expecting that. He blinks, surprised and you continue.

“I didn't see you behind me, and I should've apologized earlier or at least said excuse me or….” Trailing off, you sigh. Rambling won't do you any good now.

“The point is, I’m sorry.” You murmur, softly, before bowing your head to him.

You can't see his face or the way he looks at you tenderly, completely awestruck by your behavior. You don't see the soft, kind way he smiles before he playfully knocks on your head, and you raise it.

“It's alright, you don't have to apologize.” He reassures you and you flush deeply at the sound.

Jungkook’s voice is soft and almost melodic, as though he’s always ready to break out in song, exactly how you've heard it on videos and during concerts.

And yet, now that you're hearing it in person, it's a bit different.

You can hear the soft rumble in his throat as he speaks, a tiny hint of his Busan dialect mixing in with his words. Every syllable is straightforward and clear, every word having a purpose.

It's slightly raspy but refreshed, like the feeling after you've just had a good workout or have just accomplished a really hard dance you've been practicing for a while.

But what's most important is that at the sound of his voice, unexplainable emotions run through your heart.

You have to look away or you're afraid he would surely detect the rapid beating of your heart, the chaos in your mind, the way your body has suddenly gone weak.

Looking away, you spy the discarded cup on the side and lunge for it, startling Jungkook a bit. He dodges you, his eyes widening slightly. Pulling back you smile a bit sheepishly before standing and giving him a small smile.

“Wait here.” You instruct before turning and hurrying to a trash can.

As you look up after throwing away the coffee cup, you notice a vending machine and spy a canned coffee cup on one of the slots.

Glancing back at Jungkook, you watch as he offers the soaked towels to the janitor who has come behind you and is currently mopping up the mess.

Turning back to the vending machine, you pull out your wallet, taking out a couple of won and inserting it into the slot. Pressing the numbers of the coffee can, you receive your change, bending down to retrieve your prize and turning back to Jungkook. Taking a deep breath, you pocket your wallet and hide the coffee behind your back before walking back over to him.

As you reach him, he greets you with a friendly smile, and you return it, almost nervously.

“Here.” You say, and he takes it from you, peering at it in slight confusion. “To replace the other one.”

“Thank you.” He murmurs, opening it and taking a drink. As soon as he tastes it, he pulls back, overdramatizing how delicious it is. At the sight of his expression, you snort, chuckling softly.

“It's really good!” he exclaims, and you laugh, covering your mouth with your hand. He laughs as well, a soft chuckle that warms you from the inside out and makes your smile grow wider.

You open your mouth to say something else, but a voice behind you cuts you off.

“Jungkook!” at the sound, Jungkook looks behind you, and you turn around.

A staff member is standing near an elevator, holding it open. She frantically points to her watch, a phone held desperately between her shoulder and ear. She seems distressed as though she’s late for something, and as you think about it, you realize she probably is.

You couldn't meet with Kim Namjoon due to a meeting he had with BTS, and Jungkook happens to be a member of BTS. He was probably on the way when you bumped into him.

“You should probably go.” You mutter, a bit disheartened at seeing him leave. “It sounds important.”

As you say the words, you turn to him and he seems a bit down himself. He nods to the staff member before looking at you and smiling once more. A bit bashfully, he holds out his hand, grinning that bunny smile as you take it.

“Thank you for the coffee, miss. It was nice to meet you.” He says politely, shaking your hand softly before bowing his head to you.

“You're welcome, I’m sorry again, by the way.” You chuckle softly, and he shakes his head at you almost in disbelief.

“I thought I told you,” he murmurs, letting go of your hand and starting to walk past you. However, as he reaches your side, he pauses, whispering in your ear...

“You don't have to be sorry for anything.”

At the feeling of his breath against your skin, you shiver, a slight blush exploding on your cheeks. You refuse to meet his eyes, unwilling to let him see your blush.

So you don't see him smirk at your reaction before turning away and heading to meet the staff member who has started to pace in anticipation and worry.

As soon as he leaves your side, you turn, watching him as he walks away. When he reaches halfway to the elevator doors, he pauses. As though he could feel your eyes on him, he turns his head, glancing over his shoulder at you.

Smiling, he meets your eyes, raising his hand in the air to say goodbye. Letting out a small laugh, you roll your eyes before doing the same.

After a moment, he turns once more, completing the distance and vanishing behind the elevator door, your eyes unable to break from him the entire way.

And once he’s gone, you hold the same hand you waved goodbye to him with, close to your chest.

As though that would calm the rapid beating of your heart.

𝔫𝔬𝔱𝔢: pretty spoicy no? (¬‿¬)

chapter 8 here

check the Infinite Stars masterlist for more chapters

check my BTS masterlist for other BTS content

check out my masterlist for other kpop fanfics

[harryspet]

ahh i love your writing and your dark!peter fics are the best, could we get a darkfic of peter bullying/harassing the reader and then things escalate if you know what i mean ??

rude boy | peter parker

[Warnings] dark peter parker x reader, bully peter, verbal/physical harassment, noncon/dubcon, fingering, public sex, mentions of intercourse/oral sex, peter being a jerk, fish sticks

A/N: I combined your ask with another bully peter request I got! I’ll post that asks right after this. Hope you like this!

In which Peter can’t make up his mind about whether he loves or hates you. 

word count: almost 3k

Your gaze fell down to your lap as he entered the classroom. Everyone else’s seemed to lift, admiring their classmate who famously saved the world several times. It was safe to say that the fame had gone to his head. You nervously played with the ends of your skirt as you waited for the commotion in the room to die down and for the class to start. 

That didn’t happen because an unfamiliar person slid onto the stool beside you and you lifted your head to see Peter. He gave you a bored look as he looked you over, “What’s up, fish sticks?”

Your eyes shut tightly as you winced at the name. He knew it got under your skin and loved to watch you squirm. He nudged your arm, “Hmm?” 

Everyone remembered that time in fifth grade, on the trip to the aquarium, where you threw up your packed lunch on one of the employees. Your mom had packed you fish sticks and, as you sat through one of their fun presentations, one of the presenters picked you to come up to the stage. You were shy, even back then, and as he asked you something you learned that day, you completely lost your lunch on his shoes. This all led to one of your classmates shouting, “She barfed up her fish sticks!” and laughter ensued. 

Even Peter seemed to think it was still funny, “You’re not my partner, Peter,” You said, not meeting his eyes. 

“Now I am,” Your heart skipped a beat as you heard him, “I can’t work with Ned anymore, he sucks at cooking and I need a good grade in this class.”

You looked back at Peter’s normal seat to see your family and consumer science partner sitting with Ned. You liked her and she always did her fair share of the work. You were sure the opposite would be true for Peter. 

Peter faked a smile at you, “So what are we cooking today? Fish sticks?”

You took a deep breath, your hands tapping nervously at the table, “You could try looking at the board,” You felt him scoot his stool closer to you, his body leaning over the counter. 

“I think I’ll just look at you instead,” Your breathing hitched in your throat as he leaned into your ear. Just as he did, your teacher entered the room. You thought she was a good teacher, she graded easily, and Peter must’ve been a complete idiot to not be doing well. Clearly, this wasn’t his subject of expertise. 

The room was set so each station had its own oven, stove, and appliances. This unit was all about cooking and today you were making dessert. Your teacher gave you a list of instructions before adding that you should all make sure you’re following safety protocols. 

You stood up from your stool, mostly just to get some space from Peter and walked over to grab an apron. 

The assignment went much worse than you expected. Peter refused to even lift a spoon or even wear an apron. He sat by as you did all the work, only offering to lick the spoon clean when you were finished with it. The times he got off his butt were to walk over to Ned’s table to chat with him. 

“You’re good at this,” Peter said, as you poured the batter into a cake tin. You were a little out of breath from running around to grab supplies, “You should come over and make me a sandwich sometime.”

You bit down on the inside of your cheek, trying to keep yourself from responding. 

As soon as you got your cake into the oven, you took a deep breath, taking a look at the clock to see if you were going to finish on time, “Can you chill? You’re stressing me out.”

You rested your hands against the counter, “I’m …” Your voice raised only for a moment before you lowered it, “I’m stressing you out?”

Peter noticed your frustration and smirked, “Awe, I’m joking fish sticks. You’re doing great,” He winked. 

Maybe you could talk to the teacher, tell her that you and Peter were not a good fit together. She’d ask you why you didn’t want to be partners and then you would have to tell her … and facing Peter after that would be a nightmare. You shook your head at the thought and convinced yourself you could go the rest of the semester doing the work all by yourself. 

+

You were going to get into a good school, especially with the number of clubs you were a part of and the one that you created yourself. A book club because you loved reading and school was lacking one. There were four members in total including you and your friend Jess. If you wanted your club to seem serious on college applications then you needed more members. 

Jess had the idea of hanging up banners and flyers during the free period and, of course, you were all in. 

You went around the school with a ladder the janitor lent you and hung up your homemade posters. You were hanging a large banner towards the front of the school when the bell suddenly rang, ending the free period. 

“Just a few more inches to the left,” Jess instructed you and you slowly moved the poster to the position she wanted before Jess reached up to hand you the tape. 

There was something about you that Peter couldn’t quite wrap his head around. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t attracted to you. It was something about the snooty, preppy way you dressed that he a distaste for but turned him on to you at the same time. You were so intelligent but corruptible still. It was quite frustrating knowing you’d only see him as a nuisance. 

He watched the back of your legs, your skirt slightly rose as you taped up your poster. He thought about those baby pink panties you were probably wearing. 

You were admiring your work when suddenly the ladder shook and, for a moment you thought you might fall back until you barely caught yourself. A sharp shriek left your lips and the hall went silent until everyone was staring at you and then chuckling. You felt your cheeks warm as you quickly stepped down the ladder. 

You looked around the culprit and found Peter walking backward in the other direction. He smiled, “See you at book club, fish sticks!”

Your hands formed a fist at your side as you gave Jess an incredulous look. 

“Sorry,” She apologized, but you were already marching away. 

+

Two weeks later, you were in a crowded subway car heading to school. Some soft pop song was playing in your headphones and you were swaying your head slightly to the music. Your eyes traveled around as you people watched.

You had done this route every day but you found yourself getting nervous now when you thought about school. Peter had seemed to take a special liking to you and wouldn’t leave you alone. He made you do all his work in family and consumer sciences and he’d make sure to shout something embarrassing at you when you saw him in the hall. 

A few days ago you were heading to your lunch table with your tray when he walked up to you, “Sit with me today,” He had told you, eyes more serious than you had ever seen them. 

“Why?” You asked.

“Because I said so,” He continued and you raised an eyebrow.

“I don’t think I can take any more fish stick jokes,” Anger settled over his features and it scared you, “No, but thank you.”

Any day before this, you would’ve said yes just because of how much he scared you. He was a superhero and what were you? Nothing. And everyone saw you that way. You were just tired of him torturing you. 

You should’ve trusted your instincts because as you walked around him, you lost your balance, and tripped over his outstretched foot. The cafeteria went quiet and you moaned in pain as you pulled yourself up. Your spaghetti was now staining your bright colored sweater.

Peter leaned down, “Forgive me for trying to be nice to you, Y/N,” He held out his hand for you to take and, you only stared at him, before standing up yourself. Jess rushed over, napkins in hand, but you were already running from the cafeteria, tears stinging your eyes. 

You shook your head as you tried to stop thinking about it. As if you had unconsciously summoned the devil, you felt a hand on your waist. You jumped, of course, and thought some middle-aged man would be standing behind you but it was even worse. 

“Turn back around,” He spoke huskily in your ear and you shook your head. His arm wrapped around you, his hand wrapping around your throat as he pulled you back into him, “Don’t struggle. Wouldn’t want to make a scene, right?”

How long had he been watching you? How long had he been following you?

Your eyes darted around, looking for anyone who had noticed what was happening to you but you saw no one. Everyone so packed together and clearly focused on whatever was going on in their busy lives. Peter’s other arm wrapped around you, under your arm, and settled on your stomach. 

You started to shake your head as his fingers trailed against the top of your skirt but his grip on your throat tightened, “What color panties are you wearing?” He whispered in your ear, “Hmmm?”

It was clearly rhetorical because, with every word you spoke, his grip tightened. You had to keep still in order to breathe. His hand slid between your skin and the waistband of your pastel skirt and he felt between your legs. A small whimper left your lips as his fingers rubbed your sex through your panties. 

His nose pressed into your hair and he took in your scent as he began rubbing circles against the fabric of your underwear. 

Peter had to see for himself if you were really what he wanted and he was tired of hiding his attraction. The confusion and tension in his mind had finally stopped. He was going to have you.

You had rarely even touched your private parts yourself so, the feeling rising in your core, felt completely foreign. A second later, he was dipping his fingers in the fabric of your panties. Your face completely warmed and you couldn't help how your body flinched at the sensation. 

“You’re mine from now on, to do whatever I please,” You ran from the feeling, from the pleasure, for as long as you could but Peter’s fingers worked like magic. Your chest heaved up and down as your breathing became more erratic. You were nearing something and that scared you even more. Peter held you steady and kept you from going anywhere and you were forced to face whatever he had unleashed inside you. 

“There you go, that’s it, Y/N,” It was a giant explosion deep inside you, and Peter moved his hand around your neck to cover your mouth as you orgasm. 

You were shaking as his fingers still played with that sensitive bulb in your panties. When he finally released you, you felt more disgusted at yourself for feeling such pleasure. 

Peter turned you around and you were so dizzy that you couldn’t even push him away as he slammed his lips against yours. Anyone around you would’ve saw it as annoying PDA by a couple of teenagers but, really, a predator had just sunk its teeth into its prey.

+

You sat with Peter at lunch from the day forward. You decided it was better than him humiliating you in front of the entire student body. 

You weren’t sure what exactly you were to him. He seemed to want a personal punching bag as well as the intimacy you could provide. He’d tease you constantly, especially in front of his friends, but he’d want to make you cum right after being the jerk he was. 

He’d invite himself over to your house so you could help him with a school project or rather have you do it for him. Then he would … use his tongue against your private parts and make you lay with him for hours. 

One weekend, while you were walking home from a late-night study session at Jess’s house, a figure landed right in front of you. You hated how he loved to make his entrances by scaring you. Completely clad in his red and blue suit, Peter looked you up and down, “Why are you out walking so late?”

You took a cautious step back, “My apartment is three blocks away.”

“I’m aware and that doesn’t answer my question.”

“Can I at least have the weekends to myself, Peter?”

Peter cocked his head to the side and you wished very much to see whatever devilish look was. As he took a step forward, you took another backward, which caused him to laugh, “I’m offended, Y/N. I’m just a friendly neighborhood spider-man trying to help a poor, lost girl find her way home. There are sickos out this late.”

“Peter-”

Peter suddenly raised his hand and you saw a web shoot out into the distance. Before you could follow where it led, Peter’s arms were around you, and you were flying with him in the air. You squeezed him for dear life, your lungs unleashing every scream within you, as your stomach rose and fell with the swinging motion. 

When you finally landed on your feet, you were standing on the fire escape just outside your bedroom. You lost your balance but Peter was there to catch you again. Peter pulled off his masks and you saw his tired face and messy hair beneath it. 

He smiled at you, “Gonna puke, fish sticks?”

You tried to pull away from him, anger boiling up inside of you, “I-I hate you! I hate you, Peter!”

Tears were streaming down your cheeks and you were punching at his chest. It had no real effect on him and he simply grabbed your hands and held them in place. He pulled your hands down and pulled your forward, kissing you hard. 

You seemed to calm as his soft lips moved against yours. You hated it but it did. Your hands calmed and he let them go. Peter’s brown eyes narrowed into yours when he finally pulled away. He grabbed your face then, “I’m sorry to hear that, Y/N,” He wiped a tear away from your face, “But I don’t think I can let you go just yet.”

He kissed you again and you started to move your lips against his. It was easier that way. You stayed there for a long time, your lips on his, as your tears began to dry. He wasn’t going to leave you be so you thought you might as well enjoy it. The most popular boy in school, in New York, wanted you. Shouldn’t that make you feel good?

Peter moved to open your window, “Peter … my parents.”

“I’ll be quiet,” Peter insisted as he slipped inside. You did the same and you watched as Peter slowly shut it back. 

You moved over to the bed, taking off your backpack, and preparing for what Peter usually wanted to do. You looked up, surprised when you saw he was taking off the suit … all the way. 

“Peter, I’ve never-”

He shushed you, “I haven’t either,” That surprised you to hear. He approached you on the bed, only wearing his boxers, and your eyes raked in his exquisite physique. A lot has changed for him in the last few years, “But I’m sure I can figure it out.”

He kneeled down by your feet and took his time removing your shoes and then your socks. He wanted to take his time admiring you and this made you feel like a piece of art, “Why me?” You asked hesitantly.

“I have this awareness of my surroundings, like something in the back of my mind,” You weren’t expecting an honest answer but Peter’s eyes were completely earnest, “When I’m around you, it goes haywire and when I don’t have it, I’m vulnerable. I hate that.”

“So you do this to me b-because you hate me?”

Peter stood up, leaning forward as he pushed you down towards the bed. You slowly moved back towards your headboard as Peter crawled on top of you, “Not anymore. I like feeling certain things … when my defenses are down.”

His face was hovering above yours now, his fingers trailing over the waistband of your underwear. He started to pull them down and you stared with wide eyes because he didn’t even look away from you.

“Oh,” was all that left your mouth as he spread your legs. Everything about him confused you but it was useless to argue with him. You reached up to touch his shoulder which surprised him, to say the least. You touched the skin there and then the hardness of his chest. 

Peter tossed your underwear to the side, positioning himself between your legs. His eyes darkened as he looked at you and, suddenly, he was pinning your hands above your head. He kissed you as he used his other hand to pull down his boxers, letting his member spring free. He rubbed its tip against your sensitive bulb, trailing it up and down to tease you. 

When he finally entered you, it was slow and patient despite the hungry look in his eyes. He watched as you winced and moaned in pain as he stretched you for the first time. He’d bury himself deep inside of you for the rest of his life if he could. He’d make you tighten around him as he gave you orgasm after orgasm. 

“You make me feel human again, Y/N,” Peter grunted into your ear. After all, he had lived through and what he was meant to go through now, he’d use you to bring him down to earth. You were a toy, a tool, but maybe you could learn to enjoy the closeness. The intimacy.

Human. 

Peter both desired and despised the feeling. 

+

I hope you enjoyed this! Please be sure to like, reblog and let me know what you think! Check out my harryspetrequests tag for more of my requests and my master list for more dark peter fics!

[clouds-fics]

Ink Stains

A/N: This is my first time posting a fanfic on here! I hope you all like it! It’s from the video game Bendy and the Ink Machine, and it’s something I wrote about two years ago.

{•}

It was obvious that Sammy and Wally had a bad relationship. Everyone in the studio could see it.

However, that was just simply not the case.

-—-

Sammy was in his sanctuary, annoyance creeping up his spine as he scribbled out notes of music.

It was like a language, he thought. A language that he couldn’t decipher. Or at least find it in himself to finish. He was missing something; an important puzzle piece in his symphony.

Then, in quick rasps, he heard thumps make a quick tattoo into his entrance. He blinked, taking a quick look at the small clock and noticed it was past work hours. He was almost tempted to ignore it, but it was so panicked and familiar that he quickly opened the door. What met his eyes made him shiver.

Wally was in front of him, shivering and drenched in ink. His eyes were wide, and his hands trembled like a leaf in the wind.

Sammy quickly let him in, taking care to grab the slightly stained towel that laid on his stained desk. He led Wally to his seat as he ignored the tug at his chest.

“ What happened?” He questioned softly as he wiped off some of the ink.

Wally shook as he said,” I-I... It hurts...” He whined as he tugged at his stained hair. His hat, which he usually took very good care of, slipped off of his head and landed on the inky ground.

“ What hurts?” Sammy questioned as he tried to gently rub off the ink.

Wally seemed to not hear him, and Sammy looked into his eyes only to freeze when he saw them.

Eyes that usually resembled melted caramel now was a pure black.

It was like a signal as Wally heaved over, loosing his lunch as he sagged against his friend. Sammy was chilled by this, and his heart filled with dread when he noticed a familiar black.

That tug became a burn and all he could do was look away as he questioned softly,” What happened?”

Wally just continued to tremble, and it took a few moments to realize that Wally was mumbling. Sammy held back a sob as he tried to wipe off the ink. Unfortunately, it seemed to have a mind of its own now. It weaved along the teenager’s body, making even the most persistent scrubbing useless as it evaded him.

Wally was dying, and there was only one way to fix it.

Sammy snatched the hat from the floor and after sticking it on the teen’s head, picked him up and ran out the door.

-—-

Heat spread across his skin like a tidal wave, but all he could do is shiver. Voices, amplified to the point of deafening him, wailed and screamed in his ears.

He felt bile rise up, but he managed to keep it down as he looked up to the man carrying him.

Sammy had a scared but determined face as he raced against the clock. Wally, even in his haze, managed to catch the quiver in his lips and the slight tremble in his lips.

In that second Wally knew he was in big trouble.

He elected to ignore this thought. With a slightly delirious mindset, he decided he needed to cheer up his unofficial big brother. With his shaky hands, he grabbed the hat off of his head as firmly as he could. With a small sweep he planted the hat on Sammy’s head and began to babble.

“I crave your affection, but I crave your silence even more– shut up.” Sammy shakily drawled, but Wally didn’t seem to notice as he continued his speech.

With a shaky smile the man tousled his hair affectionately.

The janitor couldn’t help but lean into the warm touch, and all he could wonder was how his body was so hot but all he could feel was crippling cold.

-—-

They eventually arrived at the ink machine, and Sammy took care to lay the teenager softly on the ground. It still elicited a noise of pain from him, and it took everything in Sammy not to flinch and collapse on the floor. No- that was for later. For now he had to be the strong hero. Especially amongst his mistakes and sins.

He shakily darted out and sprinted to the offering room. He blessed his lucky stars that Joey had forced them to bring an offering, even if he did hate it. He wasn’t some crazed worshiper, but he’d be a liar if he’d said that wasn’t what Joey wanted him to be...

With a whimper he slammed the button and sprinted as fast as he could to the ink machine. He slipped and slid on inky black as he finally arrived at the ink machine.

He took no time in pulling the lever, making the machine rise into the air. He turned to Wally, heart gripping as he noticed the blackened blood that leaked from his mouth and his eyes. The only thing that managed to comfort the music director was the shivers that wracked his body. It meant that he was alive.

It meant that he had a chance.

Sammy reached down and picked him up, eliciting a startled groan from Wally. He merely rubbed a hand through his hair apolitically as he scampered over to the small tub that pumped out the ink.

With shaking hand he laid Wally on there and said,” It’s okay, I’ll make you feel better Wals.”

Wally groaned as he limply laid on his back, and the last thing Sammy did before he left him was kiss the top of his head and turn to the controls.

With shaking hands he began to pull the levers and push the buttons. He tried everything he could and eventually he was rewarded with a stream of ink gushing out of the machine. He slid onto the ground, shoulders shaking as his entire body was wracked with sobs that held no candle to the grief that consumed it.

-—-

It was hours later when Sammy awoke on the floor. He was confused for a slight moment, mind searching for an answer before the weight of what had happened hit him.

He collapsed again, body trying and failing to wrack in oxygen as his vision grew blurry with tears.

Wally was poisoned. Wally was dead. Wally was gone. Wally was gone gone gone.

He was gone.

-—-

He was swimming. That’s the only way he could describe it. Honestly, it was kind of nice. It would have even been almost peaceful if it weren’t for the shouting and the pitch black darkness.

The being, Wally, a voice in his head echoed, swam around aimlessly. He wasn’t sure where he was, and just as he was about to start yelling out too he heard sobs.

With his curiosity piqued he swam up. It was like moving through molasses. It felt thick and sticky against his... What was he again?

He couldn’t quite remember.

He ignored this in favor of following the cries; familiar and heart wrenching they drew him closer as he made his way up.

Then he breached the surface.

The air licked his skin, making him hiss in surprise as he blinked away the thick liquid in his eyes.

The lights were yellowed and made the walls appear a dark honey comb color. Black splattered the walls and noises seemed to create an odd symphony of ticks and grinding gears.

The thought sent a bittersweet feeling in his chest before it faded away; leaving him as quick as it came.

He would ponder this later, right after he got out of this ink pit.

With a grumble he padded forward in a doggy paddle. The ink seemed to drag him down, and it took everything in him to stay afloat.

Then he saw him.

The man was stained with ink he noted. He was crumpled on the ground and made worrying wheezing sounds- not unlike a broken squeaky toy.

Wally eventually made his way out of the ink and onto the balcony. His arrival, unnoticed to the music director, was a blessing to his aching muscles.

He dusted himself off, making a few splatters of black staining the soft wood. Wally winced, a sudden though reminding him that wood being soft wasn’t good. Especially for something that was suspending him about a giant pool of ink.

Shaking those thoughts away he started forward; paws miraculously not staining the wood as he asked the figure,” Hello? Are you okay?”

The figure was startled from his grief, turning to him with wide frightened eyes.

-—-

Sammy wasn’t sure what to do. He stared at the short cartoonish raccoon that was in front of him with a burning fear in his heart.

Would he hate him? Did he blame him for what happened?

... Did he even remember him?

Claws of anguish scratched at his chest and ripped at his insides; leaving a bloody mess of insecurity behind for him to deal with.

“ Do... Do you need help?”

Sammy let out a quiet whimper as he watched his every move.

The raccoon, Wally, didn’t seem to mind. In fact, only concern for his well being seemed to shine through two cartoon pie cut eyes.

If that wasn’t what started to flood gates, Sammy isn’t quite sure what did.

“ Oh no, did I do something wrong?!?” Wally fretted as he hovered anxiously over the sobbing music director.

Sammy paid no mind to his words. Instead he sobbed out,” I’m sorry! I’m so so sorry...”

Wally moved forward and gently took the man in his arms. Sammy wailed out as he clutched onto the inky raccoon as well as he could.

“ It’s okay, you’re forgiven...” Wally paused as he wracked his brain for his name.” Sammy.”

Sammy’s cries seemed to intensify and suddenly Wally felt memories flood his mind. With that came the realization that he needed to calm down his brother, and all he could think of is his song. The song that made him feel more human than anything else has.

“ I-It’s alright, it’s okay...” Wally sung rasping as he held him.

His grip tightened as he continued firmly,” It’s alright it’s okay. You’re not a monster... Just human, and you’ve made a few mistakes.”

Sammy cried out again and Wally burrowed his face into his hair.

“ It’s alright, it’s okay. It’s alright, it’s okay..”

Wally’s inky fur didn’t seem to stain his face. Instead it seemed to soak in his tears as he held onto his brother as he sung for him.

“ You’re not gruesome, just human, and you’ve made a few mistakes.”

Eventually with the help of Wally’s song and his love Sammy managed to calm down.

The music director scrubbed at his face mercilessly as he said,” I’m sorry...”

“ No more of that.” The raccoon countered as he brushed at the hair that was exposed from under the hat.” I’m not mad, and I can assure you no one else is either.”

Sammy remained unresponsive except for a quiet whimper.

Wally sighed as he picked him up. Much to the janitor’s surprise, he could almost compare Sammy to a feather as he held him in a bridal hold.

Wally elected to ignore that for now. No, he decided he needed to get him and Sammy out of there.

“ Alright.” Wally began as he trudged forward,” Is there anything you need from your... Sanctuary was it?”

Sammy just shook at the words, and all Wally could do was hold him tighter.

“ I guess that’s a no.”

Wally, after a moment, fished keys out of his pocket and started looking for the exit. To fill the void of silence, the younger man decided to converse with the shock victim.

“ You know, I think I look pretty cool. For a raccoon at least.” He shrugged as he made his way forward.” I’m going to have to hand in my resignation though. Or we could just say I died. Not sure how I could do that without you being a suspect or revealing I’m a furry. Literally.”

Wally snorted as he looked down at his black fur,” I’d say it’s pretty soft though, so fair deal I guess. Say, didn’t Disney offer you a job? You should take that. It’s better than here.”

Sammy started to doze off, and Wally shook him slightly as he said,” Nope, can’t have you dozing off just yet. You still need to listen to my Mickey Mouse impression after all.”

This finally got a soft huff of laughter out of him, and Wally couldn’t help but let a shaky one of him own escape him.

They would be fine, he realized.

Wally felt a few dark tears drip from his pie cut eyes as he said,” Yeah, and you never got around to watching those Disney movies with me. You still have to watch it with me, no getting out of it. Even if I am a giant fluffy raccoon.”

Finally Sammy began to calm down. His body became a limp noodle in his arms and Wally felt his own icy fear dissolve.

They would make it, Wally could feel it.

-—-

Sammy sighed as he drove up to his house, tired after a long day of work. Despite him being a musician, he often got sought after for help with the lyrical part of the songs. Adding that with his admittedly middle wage pay, he felt drained.

When he noticed the blue light that flooded out of his living room window, he couldn’t help the smile that tugged at his lips. He unlocked the door, and entered the small hall.

He recognized the sound of Bippity Bobbity Boo almost immediately. Heaven knows that he’s heard it enough already. Oddly enough, instead of it annoying him it made him smile.

He quickly entered the living room to find Wally dozing off in a pillow fort. His snores drowned out the fairy godmother’s tune, and Sammy couldn’t help but smile down at his brother. With a click he turned off the tv and the lights. He undid his tie after that and made his way into the fort.

Maybe things weren’t exactly perfect, but as he curled up next to his brother, he knew there was nothing better than this.

[harcourtholmesii]

In This Here, Beautiful World (Part 2)

Fandoms: Team Fortress 2

Pairings: Medic X Heavy / Scout X Miss Pauling / Scout’s Ma X Spy / Soldier X Zhanna / Engineer X Original Character / Saxton Hale X Maggie

Warnings: - Threats of Violence - Violence - Gore

Words: 1849

Summary: When the world goes to shit, in order to survive, you need to be ruthless, and you need to be prepared to do whatever it takes. When nine strangers and their families come together to fight back the zombie plague, tensions will rise between them all, threatening to pull them apart and kill them from the inside-out. It’s a shitty summary, I know. ^^

Enjoy!

The afternoon lecture had always been a slow trek to the day’s end. By this time, most students were far too exhausted and unmotivated to continue their work. Majority of them just wanted to return to their dorms or go out with friends; have some time to relax and recuperate from a long day of studying.

 Mikhail didn’t often sympathise with his class, but the sluggish pace of the day had weighed him down over the hours. He felt just as tired as his class appeared to be, and beneath his eyes, he could feel the stress sinking his expression and morphing his voice to a deep mutter. He was thankful none of the class seemed to care, as it would have been an embarrassing moment of weakness.

 He cleared his throat; only a few heads turning to pay attention.

 ‘Well, it seems the day has left us behind.’ A few of the students seemed sheepish, hiding their red faces behind their books or hands. ‘Perhaps, we will end this session early, and we can pick this up tomorrow.’ He offered the way out to his students with a tired smile.

 Those that were awake, eagerly accepted.

 Students hurried to gather their notes and books, tucking them away in their bags and beginning to dart with newfound energy to the exit. They offered Mikhail a hurried ‘thank you’ as they took off, or a wave if they were too lazy to speak.

 The Russian stood up and rounded his own desk, heading up the line of pitched desks, beginning to awaken those that had crashed. A few leapt up, fuelled by the fear or worry of being scolded, but were relieved when he allowed them leave. Others took their time to awaken, dragging their whole weight out the door with his prompting.

 It wasn’t long before the lecture hall was quiet and empty, save for Mikhail himself.

 He had some paperwork he needed to complete, but he could just as easily take it home with him. He glanced up at the clock on the wall, the one that had ticked by at a snail’s pace for the last hour at least. The hour alone had felt like 12; glaringly cruel whenever one had sought comfort that the day’s end was approaching.

 The time read 3:37pm.

 He still had plenty of time before his engagement with a friend.

 He pulled his phone out of his breast pocket; the electronic seemed frighteningly fragile in his hands. It reminded him of how his students had stared at him when they first attended his classes. His size, stature and gruff, accented voice seemed to intimidate most of them when they first met him. Many had stared at his hands in particular; scarred and calloused from Mikhail’s years of work and abuse.

 Despite being a professor of literature, Mikhail seemed more the part of a hardened war veteran. It had been commented on many a time, mostly behind his back when they thought he couldn’t hear. Apparently, he scared people. Mikhail didn’t necessarily mind the thought, as being feared meant he had a modicum of respect from his students and fellow staff members.

 He tapped carefully at the little buttons on his phone, watching as the screen was lit up with numbers. Finally, he pressed the call button and brought it to his ear. He waited.

 One ring…

 Two rings…

 ‘Misha!’ He felt the air in his lungs release with his relief. He was always scared of the potential that his mother or sisters would not answer the phone. Too much had happened in their family history that he was relieved when another day went by without hassle.

 ‘мама.’

 ‘It is so good to hear from you, and so soon!’ She seemed happy. That was good. ‘You don’t normally call until you are on your way home.’

 ‘да, well, I ended class early. Students too tired to continue.’

 ‘That is a shame.’ He could almost hear the pout from the other end of the line. ‘You are very smart, Misha, and I know how you love to discuss your passion.’

 ‘I am not upset, мама. Just frustrated. Day has been going on for far too long.’ He said, running two, thick fingers across his eyes. He could feel the dry tears in the corners of his eyes, and felt an itch as he attempted to rub the sleep away.

 ‘Hm… I can agree with that. Yana and Bronislava have been out all day and…’ She trailed off, his mother seemed hesitant to speak. He felt concern rise and clench deeply at his heart.

 ‘What happened?’

 ‘It’s Zhanna…’

 ‘Is she hurt?!’ He felt panic rising, not bothering to grab his classwork but making a move to the door so he might hurry home. Or to the hospital. Or to wherever his sister might be.

 ‘нет, she claims she is not hurt, my son. Not physically.’ He slowed a little, felt the panic lessening, but he kept moving. He didn’t bother to lock the lecture hall behind him, as he expected the janitors would notice in their nightly routine.

 ‘I’ll come home.’

 ‘нет. Misha… I don’t think she wants to see anyone right now.’ He stopped, and instead of worry, he felt fury beginning to boil his blood. He kept his voice low so he couldn’t be heard.

 ‘I will crush him.’

 ‘Ah, Misha, you know we cannot be doing that.’

 ‘He broke Zhanna’s heart.’ His eyes glanced about for any other sign of life. Apart from his own class, that he had released early, all other classrooms were still shut tight and not a soul was in the halls. ‘Little man will pay.’

 ‘да, he will. However, we cannot be the ones to make him pay. Zhanna loved him, and this is more than just him breaking it off with her. Mikhail…’

 When she used his full name, it never meant anything good was going to be said next. He prepared himself, expecting to hear what he had heard before. The man Zhanna had taken an interest in thought her too loud, perhaps too overbearing. Maybe he was intimidated by a woman just as strong as he was and potentially taller too. Maybe an insult had been hurled her way; not uncommon but still unforgivable.

 Zhanna had always been a hopeless romantic, and had sought out someone that suited her well. Instead, she tended to scare even the kindest men away, and Mikhail just didn’t understand it. She was beautiful, strong-willed and loyal to a fault.

 ‘She told me Peter had been feeling unwell. She had gone to see him, taking some borscht with her to liven him up.’ Always a good choice. ‘Oh Misha…’

 ‘What happened?’ He repeated again.

 ‘He hurt her… He attacked her, Misha.’

 ‘что?!’ He felt himself seething, clenching his free hand in rapid succession, as if squeezing an invisible stress toy. ‘He dare hurt sister?!’

 ‘He didn’t do much, but she came home with bruises on her arms. He even bit her hard on the hand when he grabbed her.’

 CRUNCH!

 He didn’t mean to break the phone in his grip, but how dare someone do something so cruel to Zhanna! She who wore her heart open, on her sleeve for all to see. She was a sensitive soul who didn’t deserve the cruelty that wicked men had lashed out with.

 He didn’t have the time, or the ability, to call Dell and let him know their afternoon coffee was off. Dell knew not to worry if Mikhail was unable to come, the Texan always patient with the ups and downs the Garin family had faced over the years. He was a constant kindness in Mikhail’s life, always polite enough to just sit and listen when he could afford it.

 Dell would have to wait.

 He stormed quickly and with purpose through the halls towards the exit; those rare students and staff that he passed parted ways for him quickly when they noticed the oxen man move towards them. By the time he was in the parking lot, he nearly tore the door off the car itself, taking a seat within the tiny vehicle.

 It creased his body and forced his spine into a hunched position. He filled up the front window almost comically, but the deathly glare in his eyes shut up any laughs from onlookers. He reversed, peeling out and into the middle of the lot, and then begun his drive home.

 Through it all, the radio was tuned to the classical station; the fine sound of an orchestra helped to soothe his anger, but not deplete it entirely. The violins, by far his favourite of the instruments, almost massaged the pulsing, burning ache in his head with their lulling choir. It helped, if only a little, and if only for a short time.

 As Mikhail continued his drive deeper and deeper into city streets, he started to notice an unusual hustle amongst the pedestrians. There was an unending ring of sirens as police cars and ambulances cut through the traffic, and officers attempted to redirect it down different streets.

 Through it all, there was a sudden cacophony of gunshots, and screams ripped through the pedestrians as they took to the road. They hurried between the crawling automobiles, banging on windows and attempting to open doors in their haste to escape whatever was happening. One woman had latched onto Mikhail’s own car, a large, red gash across her cheek. Her lip was bleeding and her hands were scratching at his passenger door desperately, creating a fine line of white scratches across the metal.

 He went to unlock the door, to allow her safety, when another person (man or woman, Mikhail couldn’t tell) half tackled her to the floor. He opened his own door, about to pull the figure off of her. That was, until they turned their head, revealing their chin and mouth stained with blood, teeth tight around a piece of flesh. The woman was still gasping, reaching out to him, eyes half-lidded as sleep threatened to take her.

 ‘Help…’ He could hardly hear her, especially after that creature suddenly turned on him. He leapt back, in time for the creature to miss planting its own teeth in his arm. He gripped the back of its head, large fingers tangled through its mess of hair, and planted its face to the concrete with as much force as he could muster. It was like a watermelon was crushed under his weight, as the head came apart with ease.

 Blood ran down his hand and wrist. He looked down at the woman, who now laid there, unmoving. Beyond the traffic, a crowd had formed of people racing to escape the chaos. More gunshots. More screaming.

 Mikhail didn’t return to his car. At the rate the traffic was moving, he wouldn’t be able to get out in time before more of those creatures came. He abandoned his vehicle, and turned to follow the road out of the city.

 He had to get home.

 And he had to get there soon!

[burnedbyshoto]

Revenge

Kinktober Day 28 ~ kink: voyeurism

pairing: bakugou katsuki x fem!reader

warning: smut, cursing

word count: 4,825

a/n: .........so this is a part two from my other bakugou piece entitled Tease because why not :) as seen from the title, you get your revenge :)

✩✶✩❇✩✶✩

Bakugou Katsuki did not enjoy being teased.

Never once in his life did he enjoy having the lower hand. He hated feeling powerless, unable to act on things he needed. Bakugou was a dominating person and no one on this planet could say otherwise.

Bakugou was also eighteen years and very much in love -- shocking to everyone -- with y/l/n y/n.

You were the ray of sunshine to his bitter lightening and grey clouds. You were able to calm him with a simple touch of your hands. Your words a prayer to him that always switched his worst of days to the best of days. You completed Bakugou and he completed you. Bakugou made you more reassured with yourself. Always helping you commit to your opinions and didn’t let others overpower you. He helped you study for tests and you were not assaulted as Kirishima told you he was. Hell, he even helped you go to bed at a semi-normal time! Eleven at night instead of three in the morning.

But oh god, what Bakugou could not bring himself to understand was why you were sitting on Midoriya’s desk.

His eyes kept glancing back as he heard you talking with Midoriya and Sero. He couldn’t make out what you were saying because your hand was on his shoulder. Your fingers massaging soft circles into his skin. Your body leaning on his every other minute as you laughed. Bakugou didn’t think of himself as needy or desperate. He was a strong-willed individual who didn’t succumb to dumb needs.

But there was something that he didn’t like about the fact that you were laughing prettier than tiny bells. The way you pressed the side of your breasts into his back whenever you laughed. The way your fingers dragged his shoulders and back as you talked as if you were unaware of what you were doing to him.

Bakugou felt like he was under your spell despite you not doing anything.

His hand reaches up to grab your hand, and you slip your fingers through his. It warms Bakugou’s heart feeling your soft and smaller hands between his own. He can't help it as he presses a kiss to the back of your hand; your lips press against his cheek.

The classroom door slams open, and Aizawa walks in. He informs everyone to head to Ground Gamma while in costume for Hero Training class. Bakugou stands up to move, Hero Basics was for sure his favorite class, and he was punctual. So, it surprised him as he felt you hold him to his chair as everyone else filed out.

“What the hell are you doing?” Bakugou questions as the two of you are now the only ones in the room.

You slide off of Midoriya’s desk and wrap your arms around Bakugou’s lean waist.

Bakugou wishes he could glare at you, but can only get himself to roll his eyes and look away.

“Kiss me, ‘Suki.” You say as he feels you lean up onto your tiptoes.

“Shitty woman,” Bakugou groans, but still, his head leans down to press a kiss to your mouth. It’s short and sweet, but it’s enough for you it seems as you sigh contently as you pull away. Bakugou lets you slip your hand back into his as you walk to the wall. His eyes trail down to the slightly opaque black tights you were wearing. It wasn’t the standard stockings you normally wore. “Those tights are new.”

You glanced back at Bakugou who pulled his box from the wall. His vermillion eyes were now locked on you as you walked backward to your own box. His eyes narrowed at the coy look in your eyes.

“They’re actually stocking.” You say, as you turn around and bend over to grab your issued box.

Bakugou Katsuki could count on his hands the number of times he’s lost his breath. So far, you made up eight of eight times he forgot how to breathe. This made nine.

As you bent over, the small skirt that barely passed the curves of your ass exposed to Bakugou what exactly you were wearing.

What he thought were black opaque tights, were, in fact, black opaque stockings. They ended centimeters from the swell of your ass. They connected a lacy black garter, the thick material running up both legs. They smoothed over your ass. Disappearing to what Bakugou could only imagine being a high waisted garter belt. Then in between your delightful ass was the laciest black thong that Bakugou had ever seen you in.

Bakugou recovered quickly, as he always did, and his eyes flashed over to yours. You were still bent over, looking over your shoulder and grinned.

“Pervert.” You say as you arch up, and you swear you can hear a whine in Bakugou’s throat. You saunter over, your lips pressing a lip gloss stain against the corner of his mouth. “I do need to go, the girls will worry, and well… I need to get changed without them noticing my little treat for you.”

Now there was nothing in the world that should have Bakugou Katsuki speechless. But all he was able to do was stare after your retreating figure as you ran out of the room.

Bakugou Katsuki felt like this day had just gotten terribly longer.

✩✶✩❇✩✶✩

Bakugou groaned as he was launched onto his ass by you again.

For some goddamn reason, this class was not going his way.

You laugh as you rise above him again, your arms pinned to your sides.

Today was leg day.

Leg day meant you were only able to fight with your legs.

Bakugou was a bit dependent on his arms and fists, so you were -- to put it kindly -- killing him out there.

You were smaller than him and were often forced to use your entire body to even battles, so it was no big surprise. It just didn’t make him feel all too great. There was also the fact that whenever you would duck under his kick, his mind remembered the terrific panties you were wearing. Then he’d choke up.

Grunting, he got back up, sweat pouring down his face as he glared at you. Thankfully, everyone was running through these exercises or else he would have felt a million times worse. Bakugou groaned as he saw you sink low, his own stance lowering as he tried to not fall for yet another trap of yours.

Unfortunately for him, you sprang towards him suddenly, your body outmaneuvering his own. All Bakugou could feel was your feet pressing into his gut and then he was on the floor. Your ass landing hard on his torso as you had him pinned to the ground. Now Bakugou was always grateful for the calm head-- at the very least when it concerned you-- on his shoulders when placed into situations like this. But you shifted back to stand up and your ass dragged against his crotch and he stiffened completely.

“Y/n…” Bakugou hissed as you snapped your attention towards you. Your face feigned innocence, but he saw the spark in your eye that told him you knew exactly what you were doing. “Don’t. Fucking. Do. It.”

“I can’t get up, Ground Zero.” You look offended by his words. Bakugou trembles slightly at the sound of his hero name expelling from your lips like that. “My legs are stuck in a weird position.”

As if to prove this horrible detail, you shifted again. Your ass further grinding into his crotch.

“Shitty woman!” Bakugou yelled. His sanity slowly crumbling as you continued grinding into him in your attempt to stand.

“Bahaha! Aizawa-sensei, Bakugou and Y/l/n are stuck!” Kaminari yells and Bakugou feels as if his skin is on fire as he pants.

Bakugou glares at you as you've been helped to your feet by your teacher, and Bakugou stumbles to his own feet. His breathing erratic and not at all calm.

“I need to go to the fucking bathroom!” Bakugou snarls as he storms off, the earth quaking with every stomp.

You stare at his retreating form. A coy smile on your face as he yells at Kirishima for asking about the binds still around his arms.

Phase two was complete.

✩✶✩❇✩✶✩

Bakugou sighed as his hands shoved deep within the pockets of his pants. Nothing new at all.

His eyes low and head down as he walked through the busy hall. It was after lunch and he had eaten alone on account that you had ditched him today. He didn’t mind, Bakugou enjoyed eating alone!

After becoming friends with people like Kirishima and Kaminari he was never allowed to be alone. Those two idiots were always near him! Then when you became his girlfriend, the two of you always ate together. Of course, it was not the same as Kirishima and Kaminari; he enjoyed having you by his side as you ate. But today, you had run off with the other girls in the class leaving him alone.

Wanting to get back to the room to relax his mind for a bit, Bakugou had eaten quickly and walked back to the classroom.

What he expected was to walk through the hallways. Avoid people as normal, ignore the scared squeaks of first years as he passed them. Finally, get into the room and place his head down. What he didn’t expect, when rounding a corner into an empty hallway, was for a pair of hands to wrap around his wrist. The hands pull him into the janitor’s closet.

Bakugou's quirk went off immediately. His mouth pulled back into a pre-rage scream before a pair of lips pressed themselves over his own.

Bakugou knew every little thing about your body, and he knew exactly how you kissed.

“Shitty fucking woman!” He growled into your mouth.

While explosions still emitted from his palms, Bakugou kissed you back. The darkness of the closet and the oddly pleasant smell of bleach sinking into his nose as he kissed you.

“What? Expecting someone else?” You tease as your lips trail kisses up his neck.

“Like I want anyone but you.” Bakugou groans as your tongue licks against his skin.

“Good answer,” you murmur as you pull away before crashing your lips back against his own.

Your fervor lips press against his. Your fingers tangling into his unruly hair as you shoved him into the door. Bakugou’s eyes widened in pleasant surprise, he did enjoy the few moments where you were dominant. Allowing you to keep him by the wall, Bakugou’s hands settled on your waist. His fingers trailing down under the skirt. Bakugou grunted at the feeling of your supple skin and the lacy lingerie you wore.

What a fucking minx.

Bakugou hates how reactive he is to you. His lips moving with vindication against yours. His fingers pulling at the string and letting it snap against your skin. The resulting moans from your mouth make it worth it.

Your mind spins slightly at what you’re doing. Making out in the janitor’s closet was the most cliche thing you’ve done with Bakugou. Yet it makes your body numb with pleasure from the shivers running down your spine. Bakugou’s hands move to grope your ass. Your flesh molding under his hands as you shove him even further into the door.

His lips are a drug to you, addicting and have you longing for more as your tongue trails his bottom lip.

Bakugou growls as he opens up his mouth, his tongue shooting out and entering your mouth. You let him take control of your mouth, the dominance alluring as your hand trails down his chest.

Bakugou's eyes fly open as your hand palms him through his baggy pants.

“Y-Y/n!” He snaps as your lips reattach onto his neck.

“Yes, Ground Zero?” You sigh softly as your hand slips through his waistband.

Bakugou’s head slams back onto the janitor’s door as your hand grasps onto his cock.

It’s not erect or hard, but feeling your hot hand around his girth has Bakugou expelling harsh breaths through his nose. Trying desperately not to be affected.

“Fuck, Ground Zero...” You whine as your mouth peppers hot and wet kisses against his neck. Trailing down to his exposed neck as he still chose to keep the top button undone and wore no tie. Bakugou curses as your mouth sucks against his chest. Your hand stroking his length as he becomes harder with every touch. “You’re getting so hard for plain little me.”

“I’ll show you just what else you do to me,” Bakugou growls as your teeth nip at the same spot you had been sucking at.

“You don’t have it in you to fuck me in school, you fucking nerd,” you tease as the bell rings.

Bakugou’s eyes widen as you stare up at him, your eyes fluttering with unseen emotions.

“Y/n, don’t you fucking dare.” Bakugou threatens, his eyes wide.

He could get you both to come in less than five minutes if he tried his best. It would be the amount of time needed to get the two of you back to class.

“Sorry.” You apologize with a faux pout that he felt against his chest.

With a small pop, you disappeared.

Fuck your fucking teleportation quirk.

You shuffled between the crowds of students, your sudden appearance having gone unnoticed. But you swore you could hear the most guttural scream coming from the janitor’s closet as you scurried away.

Phase three was complete.

✩✶✩❇✩✶✩

Bakugou was stalking back to the dorms.

The top button of his shirt was fastened because you had left a fucking dark hickey on his chest that was very, very visible.

Worse yet, you had left the classroom before he could stop you. Only seeing your retreating figure holding onto Uraraka’s hand as the two of you raced away.

You had left him needy, desperate, and horny.

It had been a miracle no one noticed his boner. It was a miracle he had even managed to sit through the rest of school, his body on edge as he looked over at you by your desk. You sat diagonally in front of him, and he swore -- no he knew you were shifting as often as you were on purpose.

Then stupid fucking Raccoon Eyes talked to him for twenty minutes. She had gone off on a nineteen-minute tangent to see if she could wear his gauntlets one day. All because she wanted to see if she could create an “Acid Bomb” and of course Bakugou denied the thought.

But now, Bakugou was feeling completely insane. He would go as far as to say that he would fuck you in the common room if that’s where he found you.

So as he stepped into the dorm, everyone looked over at him as the door slammed open.

“Where the fuck is y/n?” He growled.

They all pointed upwards.

You were in your damn room.

Bakugou didn’t even hear their pleas to not explode on you as he stormed up the staircase. His quirk going off to get him to the fourth floor as quickly as possible.

Bakugou didn’t wait to even knock, choosing instead to throw open the door and storm in. His eyes locked on your form. You were by your desk. Your body now out of your uniform, wearing the same damn lingerie but you also wore as his fucking black t-shirt.

It flowed down your body, his shirt enveloping you within its fabric as you merely glance over. As if you didn’t know what was wrong. Bakugou snarled as he locked the door. His jacket throwing off his shoulders and backpack on the ground.

You turned towards your angry ash-blond boyfriend, welcoming his impassioned kiss as he had his way with your lips. His lips clashing against yours without mercy.

His hands trembling with suppressed emotions, with a greater need as he shoved you towards the bed.

“I’m going to fuck you until you can’t fucking walk,” Bakugou snarls against your mouth.

“Really?” You ask, sighing softly as his mouth attacks your neck. His teeth sinking into your flesh in multiple areas without mercy.

“Making me fix my outfit to look like some fucking dumbass extra!” Bakugou hisses as your fingers ghost over the exact area where you sucked his skin.

“I wanted every person to know you’re mine.” You laugh as his hands grip your ass as he picks you up and he sits down on the bed. You smirk as he forcefully grinds your hips against his.

“Like hell, I’d ever want anyone of them!”

“I know.” You giggle as your hands press against his chest.

While pulling away from his assaulting lips, Bakugou can only watch in horror as you teleport the two of you towards the corner of the bed. Bakugou’s head spins slightly from your quirk. In that moment of his disorientation, your hands snapped forward. Handcuffs snapped around his wrists.

“Y/n!” Bakugou yells as you roll off his lap.

You watch as Bakugou thrashes against the handcuffs. You grin as you sit out of his grasp. His chest heaving as he continues staring at you, desperation in his eyes as he continues staring at you. Your eyes travel over his body, how fucking good he looks with his hands over his head, how vulnerable he looks.

“I’m mad at you," you admit as you crawl back over his lap.

“Why the fuck are you mad, shitty woman?!” Bakugou snarls as you press your ass against his crotch. You slightly moan as the friction you desired from him was finally there. His own anger dissipating with your rolling hips.

“You had me on edge for the entire fucking day,” you sigh. A sadistic grin overcoming your face as Bakugou’s mouth flattens. You lost a competition and now, here the two of you were, now exacting your petty revenge.

Bakugou watched you, his nostrils flaring as you removed his shirt from your body.

“You know,” you sigh as your hair falls down onto your collarbones. You wear a black lacy bra that is most definitely showing off your aroused nipples. “I think the best part about you being into the entire voyeurism is that this is going to be the best, most painful thing for you to watch.”

Bakugou can feel his cock twitch at the meaning behind your words, and he watches as you lean in close again. Your lips press against his again, your hips rolling in a large circle against his hips. You smirk as you feel Bakugou resist his moan, his jaw trembling as you grind your cunt into his hips.

“I really love that you’re always so responsive to me.” You sigh as you pull away, your ass brushing against Bakugou’s hardening cock. “Now, you’re going to watch me fuck myself, and maybe… just maybe you’ll get to fuck me when I’m done.”

“Y/n…” Bakugou’s voice is low, it's a warning, and it only stirs you further.

Your hands move behind your back as you scoot back onto the mattress. Bakugou’s vermillion eyes are locked on you, his pupils blown open as you drop the bra from your breasts. His tongue licks his lips as your fingers trail down your breasts. They stop below the curve of the tissue as you sigh. Your fingers tease the bottom of your breasts as you close your eyes.

You imagine instead of your hands that they’re Bakugou’s. Strong and weathered, but unbelievably soft against your skin.

Your fingers tug at your nipples, rolling the skin between your pointer finger and your thumb as you moan. Soft electrifying sensations shooting through your body as you shift. Your hands continue massaging your breasts. Groping them between your fingers as a possessive groan escapes Bakugou’s lips.

Your eyes snap back open, amusement heavy in your eyes as your hand cups your right breast. Bakugou’s boner is restrained through his pants, but his arousal is very evident. Keeping your eyes locked on him, you lower your mouth to press gentle kisses against your supple flesh. His eyes flash in fury and lust as you do so, and the smile on your face only widens as he watches your tongue push out. Teasing the skin of your breasts as all he can do is watch on.

Dropping your breast from your hands, you feel it bounce, and you see Bakugou’s eyes follow the movement. His stare is so intense you could have thought he was trying to figure out the calculus behind your bouncing breasts.

“I was really excited to show you this new set,” you inform Bakugou as you remove the high waisted garter belt. The stockings on your legs immediately sag, and you take your time in removing the fabric. “I’m trying to find the perfect orange, black, and green set. But they only really have black,” you fake pout as you toss the stockings to the side. Your bare legs coming into contact with the cool material of your comforter. “I mean, I guess it’s okay that I can’t find any lingerie related to Ground Zero when I got him wrapped around my finger.”

Bakugou’s eyes narrow as your fingers hook around the lace thong.

“I’m just so happy that you’re going to enjoy watching me fuck myself.” You say as the thong comes off, joining the rest of your clothes on the floor. “Now, I hope you won’t tear your eyes away from me.”

A giggle erupts from your mouth as Bakugou whimpers softly as you lean back. Your legs spreading out to expose your dripping cunt to him. Your fingers run down your abdomen, your nails teasing rises against your body. All while looking at Bakugou you sink two fingers into your awaiting cunt.

“F-Fuck!” You gasp, your head already leaning backward from the intruding sensation.

It had been a while since you’ve last masturbated, and you sure had not had your fingers in your cunt in awhile. Your walls are hot against your fingers, your walls contracting softly against them as you pump in and out at an easy pace.

“‘Suki, you make me feel so good,” you whine as your hips rut against your fingers.

A needy sigh forms in your throat as you curl your fingers.

The new angle makes your body tremble as your fingers pick up their pace within your walls.

In and out.

In and out.

Your fingers brush against your walls making you fall onto your back, your chest arching off the mattress as you imagine it’s Bakugou doing this to you. That it’s Bakugou’s teasing fingers curling inside of you as you cry out his name.

Faster and faster your finger pump into you.

Your moans and cries are melodic as your other hand trails to your clit to rub circles into your puffy bundle of nerves.

The smallest touch to your clit nearly sends you off the high end. His name coming out as a harsh curse as you sob. Your legs nearly snapping together as you continue your assault on your pussy.

“Y-Yes, Bakugou -- ahhh that feels so fucking good -- I’m so close,” you sob. Your hips are coming off the mattress at this point as your juices slather against your hands. Your clit throbbing as you apply even more pressure. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

The sounds of your fingers driving into your soaked pussy is unbearable for you. The shooting pleasures ramming throughout your entire body as you quiver uncontrollably on the bed. Your jaw wide open as your eyes are screwed closed. Your fingers are not yours but Bakugou’s and you jerk up as the pressure within you snaps.

You come hard around your fingers, your body twitching in its wake. A resulting stammering breath rattling in your ribcage as you try to get your breathing back to normal. Your eyes heavy as you stare at Bakugou who’s staring at you. His eyes nearly emotionless as you chuckle.

Sighing you pushed your still twitching body off the bed, and walk to your desk. You grab the key and unlock Bakugou who is slow to rub his wrists that are somehow red and bruised.

Was he trying to get out the entire time you were doing that?

You squeak as Bakugou grabs your wrists and puts them into the handcuffs now. His uniform covered crotch grinding into your wet pussy as he snarls in your ear.

“I hope you had fucking fun imagining that it was me fucking you,” He snaps, his fingers sinking into your cunt and you cry out. Your pussy is still sensitive from coming off of your high. “I’m going to fuck you so well now, you’re never going to be able to use your goddamn fingers or toys again. I’m going to ruin you from everything else in this world except for my cock.”

“I -- shit ‘Suki -- find that hard to believe.” You challenge as your eyes lock onto his angry red ones.

His lips are over yours, possessive and angry. His fingers leaving your cunt as you hear his belt unbuckling and before you know it, his cock is teasing your entrance.

“I’m motherfucking Bakugou Katsuki,” your boyfriend hisses at you. “What I say is the goddamn truth.”

Before you could think of something witty to say, his cock slams into you and your eyes roll to the back of your head as he begins ramming into you. Your head throwing back as you cry against his throbbing hard length.

“And you better be fucking quiet,” He warns as his hips begin hammering into you without a second thought.

Unforgiving and relentless you stayed handcuffed for the rest of the evening. Bakugou Katsuki kept to his promise and made sure to permanently ruin everything entering your damn pussy for the rest of your life.

[haileyyanneupton]

❄ small - one chicago au ❄

Hailey Upton and Adam Ruzek have been friends for as long as they can remember. When Hailey leaves her prestigious private school to be with Adam in her junior year, she’s introduced to a new group of people who feel strangely like home. 

pairings

jay halstead x hailey upton adam ruzek x kim burgess kevin atwater x vanessa rojas kelly severide x stella kidd

masterlist | series masterlist

❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄

❄ one ❄

Hailey let out a loud huff as she hung upside down off of Adam’s bed one afternoon. She had been at her new school for two weeks and so far, she had spent one lunchtime locked inside a toilet cubicle, two in an empty classroom, three wandering the halls with a sandwich in hand and the rest in the janitors closet. She had attempted to talk to some people in her biology class but when they had ditched her in the hall, she had been too embarrassed to search for Adam and ask if she could sit with him. In the end he had managed to find out anyway — Hailey wasn’t very good at lying to Adam — leaving him to insist that she meet his friends.   

“Are you sure they’re not going to mind, Adam?” Hailey asked nervously, her hair strewn across the ground of his bedroom floor. “They seem really tight knit and —“ 

“You need to stress less, man,” Adam chuckled, glancing down that the girl from the head. “You also should probably sit up before all the blood rushes to your head.” 

“But hanging like a bat is fun.” 

“So is being conscious.” 

Hailey sighed loudly as she pushed her legs off of Adam’s bed and instead starfished out on the ground. She was nervous, but covered well — if she wanted to make Adam’s friends to like her, she was going to have to. Adam had always spoken highly of them, making Hailey worry that maybe they were too good for her. After all, she was just Hailey Upton. Plain old boring Hailey Upton. A knock sounded at Adam’s door as his mother pushed it open far enough for her to poke her head through, a warm smile on her face as she looked between Adam and Hailey.   

“Are you two hungry?” Pamela asked gently, brushing a piece of hair behind her ear. “I can fix something for you both if you want a snack or something.” 

Hailey looked to Adam who shrugged, his eyes tearing away from the textbook he had been pretending to read for the last hour. “I mean if you’re making something, I don’t think we’d be opposed.” 

“Well what do you want?” Pamela had an amused smirk on her face as she tutted playfully at her son for a moment. “Hailey?” 

“A hash brown.”

Pamela chuckled, nodding her head up and down. “Hash browns. I can do hash browns. What about dinner? What do you both want for dinner? I’m in a good mood today, so I may be inclined to make you whatever you want.” 

“Actually — I can’t stay for dinner tonight, Pam,” Hailey interjected with yet another sigh. “I promised my mom I’d help her this apple pie that she’s found the recipe for. She’s really excited about it — it’s kind of adorable.” 

Pamela smiled, though Hailey could see the fondness mixed in with worry in her eyes. They didn’t address it — they never addressed it — it was more of an unspoken fact at this point. In their neighbourhood, when things happened everybody locked their doors so that they could have plausible deniability — nobody wanted to get involved directly. Adam’s family had been the first ones to ever offer up a place of solace for Hailey, who was now the only child left at home after her brothers had left for college or to go and work — the first ones to ever actually acknowledge that something was going on. Hailey didn’t know if it was because Bob was a police officer or if it was because they were nice people breaking away from the sense of conformity that had been forced upon everybody on the street, but either way she didn’t mind. She liked it at Adam’s house. Hence why she spent most of her time there. Hell, she even had a key hanging off of her keychain for the Ruzek’s residence — she was family. 

As Adam’s mother went off to put on some of the frozen hash browns she had in the oven, Hailey pushed herself back up and off of the floor and made her way back up onto Adam’s bed as she picked up her math textbook and stared down at the problems on her page. They were just that — problems — problems that Hailey wanted to set on fire so that she didn’t have to deal with them. Unfortunately for her however, she had been informed by her mother earlier that week that apparently that wasn’t how pre-calculus worked.   

“Sometimes this stuff makes so much sense, and other times I feel like this sigma guy is going to try and eat me,” Hailey huffed angrily as she skimmed over the page and answered the very few problems she knew how to do. “Look! See? Doesn’t he look like he’s going to jump out of the page and try to swallow me whole?“ 

Adam chuckled at Hailey. “You’re doing better than me, at least. I’ve been staring at these chemical equations for days and if I don’t get them done tonight, Mr Ramirez is going to kick my ass. All I’m seeing is a bunch of letters — they mean nothin’ to me.” 

“Let me see.” Hailey peered over at the boy’s book, using her finger to scan over the words. “Those are easy. Give ‘em here, I’ll do them.” 

“You’re the best, Hailey.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” Hailey grinned up at her friend. “I’m disappointed that it took you this long to work that out, doofus.” ❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄ 

The next day back at school, Hailey waited anxiously out the front of her English classroom for Adam to come and find her and bring her to his friends. She drummed her fingers against her thigh as she looked around for the boy, about to chicken out and retreat to the janitor’s closet for yet another lunchtime when she saw the face of her best friend walking alongside a brunette girl. Hailey vaguely recognised her but couldn’t seem to put a name to the face, waving a hand politely in their direction as she pushed herself off of the wall. “Hailey, this is Kim. Kim, this is Hailey.” 

Kim grinned widely, waving hello to the blonde. “Hi! Sorry it took us so long to get here — Adam got himself locked in the lab and I had to come and rescue the idiot.” 

“Of course he did.” A small smile of amusement came onto Hailey’s lips as she rolled her eyes playfully. “Where — uhm — where are the others?” 

“They’re waiting in the art room,” Adam answered, putting an arm around Hailey as they began to walk, the man squeezing her into him comfortingly. “Quit being so nervous.” 

“Wow, Adam. I’m cured.” Hailey quipped back monotonously. “Thank you so much.” 

Adam smiled back at Hailey with an over-enthusiastically proud smile as Kim snickered from the other side of the man.   

“I like you already, Hailey.” 

As the three of them walked into the art room, closing the door behind them, Hailey was faced with a group of people all staring over at her. She instinctively moved a little bit closer to Adam as her heart skipped a beat, the girl clutching her books to her chest as she forced a smile. They seemed nice — they seemed really nice — would that mean that they wouldn’t like her because she didn’t always come across the same way? They seemed really close too, which worried Hailey. She wasn’t the type to gossip and she for sure wasn’t ever going to be able to have people over at her house in the situation that they’d want to hang out there. What would she tell them if they asked to have a study date at her house? Would any of them— 

“Hailey,” Adam hummed in the girl’s ear as she snapped out of her oncoming vortex of overthinking. “I promise they won’t bite.” 

Adam gave the girl an encouraging smile as she stepped further into the room, following Kim who naturally fell into place between another boy and an empty spot that Adam soon filled.   

“Guys, this is Hailey,” Adam introduced lightly as she found a spot on top of one of the tables, her books being placed down behind her as she smiled shyly. “She’s got this crazy idea that you guys aren’t going to want her around.” 

Kim gasped dramatically. “What? No! The more the merrier, girl!” 

Hailey’s smile remained but her gaze dropped to her hands which were sitting in her lap as she tried to make herself seem less rigid. It had been so long since she had really tried with anybody that she had forgotten how to, the prospect overwhelming her just a little bit. She was used to accepting that things usually didn’t work out — she really didn’t want to get her hopes up.   

“This is Kevin,” Adam pointed to the boy beside him as he gave a friendly nod. “You know Kim. Then there’s Jay, Kelly, Vanessa and Stella.” 

Hailey noticed that she was beside Vanessa who held a hand up for a high-five which she happily returned, her smile widening just a bit further. On her other side was a dark haired boy with green eyes that were impossible to miss, the colour of his shirt only bringing them out more — she was pretty sure she had caught his name as Jay.   

“I gotta go wash my hands in the bathroom,” Stella announced suddenly, looking at Vanessa and Kim who immediately stood up. “You wanna come with us, Hailey?” 

Hailey nodded gently, she too rising to her feet as she glanced back at the textbooks she had placed on the table. “Yeah, sure. Um — Adam, can you —“ 

“Don’t worry.” Jay placed a hand on the books, nodding once in the girl’s direction. “I’ll watch ‘em for you.” 

Hailey smiled gratefully at the boy before following the other three girls out of the art room and down the hall to where the bathrooms were. To her surprise, they were relatively empty — that was almost unheard of — with just the few freshman walking out after touching up their lip gloss.   

“Ugh,” Stella groaned as she turned the water on and ran her hands beneath it. “Man, I love Hot Cheetos but they stain my fingers so badly.” 

Kim chuckled lightly at the girl as she made some witty remark that earned another groan out of Stella while Hailey and Vanessa leaned up against the wall. Hailey had a leg propped up as she pulled her phone from her pocket, searching for something to do so that she didn’t feel so — uneasy. 

The feeling of someone kicking her foot lightly bought her attention back to the girl standing beside her. She had a warm smile on her face as she looked up at Hailey with a knowing look, her arms folded loosely together.   

“I get it, you know,” Vanessa started, causing Hailey’s eyebrows to knit together curiously. “I’ve been the new kid before. Twenty four times to be exact.” 

Hailey’s eyes widened in shock. “Twenty four times?” 

“Yeah,” Vanessa nodded with a light chuckle — it was obvious to Hailey that she had expected that reaction. “I’m a foster kid. Been in so many different homes at this point that I’ve lost count.” 

“That’s rough,” Hailey’s voice was light and sympathetic. “I’m sorry.” 

“Nah, don’t be. It’s alright. I just mean — you don’t have to be so nervous with us.” 

Hailey shot the girl a smile as she settled slightly, feeling better about the whole situation now that she had connected with Vanessa. By the time they had gotten back to the art room, the boys were throwing skittles across the room and trying to catch them in their mouths like idiots.   

Hailey resumed her position beside Jay once again, snorting lightly to herself as Adam nearly ran into a table after tripping over his own feet. When a skittle was thrown in Jay’s direction, he missed catching it in his mouth but instead managed to catch it against his chest with his hand, grinning as he turned it over. 

“Green,” Hailey observed, her lips curled upwards. “My favourite.” 

A certain sparkle could be seen in Jay’s eye as he held the skittle up by Hailey’s mouth, chuckling as the burst of flavour bought a beam to the girl’s features. As the rest of their lunch break came and went, Hailey felt much more at ease. For the first time in years, she finally had someone else she would be able to smile at in the halls — someone to say hello to in class. Even though she had only known them for an hour, she could tell she wanted to stick around. Besides — she could see how happy Adam was having all of his friends in one place.   

Maybe it was about time things started getting better for Hailey after all.

tag list: @ruzek-halstead @lissethsrojas @sammywiths @butterflies44 @upsteadheart @shawnscheeks @puckluck28 @karihighman @thetwit @azu1ang3188 @juu-series @justanotheronechicagofan @stinaax @stayupton @fullwattpadmusictree

[duckapus]

The Syndicate: MRU Edition

I said the Nicktoons games are canon to the MRU version of Fairly Oddparents and I meant it. And, given that Timmy now has powerful new allies and an entirely new type of multiverse lies before them, Crocker proposes to the rest of the Syndicate that they recruit some villains from these new worlds, as well as bring some villains from their own universes and the Nickverse into the fold.

The O.G.s

Professor Finbarr Calamitous

Vlad Masters/Plasmius

Denzel Q. Crocker

Sheldon Plankton

Karen Plankton

Beautiful Gorgeous

Tlaloc the Shaman

Nicolai Technus

Dib Membrane

Nicktoons Villains

Jimmy Neutron

King Goobot (+ Yolkians in general)

The Junkman

Eustace Strych

Grandma Taters

Baby Eddy Neutron

Dorkus Aurelius (I know he's from Planet Sheen it's in the same universe leave me alone)

Fairly Oddparents

Dark Laser

Foop (+Anti-Cosmo and Anti-Wanda when they find out)

Vicky (sort of)

The Nega Chin

Danny Phantom (note: all of these are on a scheme-by-scheme Basis, as Vlad and Technus are not on good enough terms with other ghosts to do long-term team-ups)

Skulker the Hunter

Ember McLain

Johny 13, Kitty, & Shadow

Warden Walker

Desiree

Penelope Spectra & Bertrand

Fright Knight

Spongebob Squarepants

Probably a few of Mermaid Man and Barnacle Boy's many, many archenemies.

Other Nick Shows

Queen Vexus (+Cluster Loyalists) (My Life as a Teenage Robot)

Kilgore (MLaaTR)

...there should probably be some El Tigre villains on here but honestly I don't know enough about the show to know who would work with these guys

Doctor Blowhole (Penguins of Madagascar)

Hypno-Potamus & Warren Stone (Rise of the TMNT)

Skrawl (ChalkZone)

Verminious Snaptrap (+D.O.O.M.) (T.U.F.F. Puppy)

Swiper (Dora the Explorer) (This is a meme-fueled multiverse he totally counts)

Tak and Zim don't get any new villains because Tak doesn't have any other villains worth a damn and all of Zim's enemies are either also Dib's enemies or have never met him but probably would be his enemies if they did.

MRU Multiverse

Master Kohga The local version, not the one that's currently Director K.

Ganon The version from the 80's cartoon, since he's both Not Currently Dead and has the right personality to work with these weirdos.

Vaati

Chancellor Cole That one leprechaun-looking dude from Spirit Tracks.

Tingle We don't know why he's here. He shouldn't be here. We don't want him here. Here he is anyway.

Lady Maud From Triforce Heroes.

Professor Incisor The mad scientist who created the Hamtors in an attempt to make his own personal army to take over the world with. Instead, Doc led an uprising, and the two are now rivals in World Domination.

Queen Lokoko Of course she'd be here.

...Janitor of Heart doesn't have any reoccurring villains yet apart from The Stain, and that's really more of a corruptive mystical force than an actual sentient being. The Syndicate could probably acquire a sample and study it to see if they can harness its power but that's about it.

[curiousconch]

Escape

Chapter 8 of Ricochet (An Open Heart AU)

Catch up here: Series Masterlist

Chapter Synopsis: Heather attempts to escape her captors. But will she succeed?

Pairing: Rafael Aveiro x MC (Dr. Heather Song) | Bryce Lahela x MC (Dr. Heather Song)

Words: 1.5k+ | Genre: Crime, Suspense/Thriller, Romance

Rating/Warnings: Mature (16+) / violence, language

Author's Notes: This chapter took me too long to complete, since I hit a creative block. Grateful for @eleanorbloom for giving me tips to overcome it (thank you! 🥰🥰🥰)

Thank you so much for taking time to read/comment/reblog this series. Please let me know if you want me to include/remove you in the tags list. Also, disclaimer: Majority of the characters are owned by Pixelberry, except the main character Heather Song and an OC Jordan Anderson.

Heather held her tears at bay. Frankly, all she wanted was to let herself go.

But she can't. She didn't want to give her captors the satisfaction of seeing her break. When Declan Nash removed her blindfold, he thought it was enough to pulverize her will. Heather was determined to prove him wrong.

"I'll pick up the second dose. Start on getting rid of the pretty doctor first," she heard Nash say to the other man, right before he left.

She watched closely as another man approached her, his features slowly revealed by the dim light surrounding them. The hair at the back of her neck stood up when she recognized the face of her kidnapper.

Jordan Peter Anderson, the Edenbrook janitor. Pete, as he was mainly known.

Suddenly, it all made sense. That's how he had access to her things, how he can easily know her home address, her schedule, all details of her life without suspicion. He was just another face in the sea of people that came in and out of the hospital. A fairly common and trusted face, at that.

She just wondered how Declan was connected to him. She wanted so much to find out. But now, she had to focus on preventing herself from whimpering as Pete violently dragged her to sit on a chair. He tugged her wrists free before slamming them on a metal table. She instantly winced with the impact.

That was when she saw the back of her hand, where an IV cannula was attached to an exposed vein.

What the hell was he planning?

She found the answer sooner than she thought.

She followed his movement with her eyes as he picked up a syringe from a nearby table. It was filled with a clear liquid.

"I take it you're familiar with potassium chloride, Dr. Song?" The janitor sneered as she gazed in terror at what he was holding.

She knew. Potassium chloride overdose can cause cardiac arrest when administered via IV, and in overdose, was fatal. Her mind raced with comprehension.

He's out to kill. He's not going to spare me. This isn't just a game. Her mouth went dry, refusing to accept the possibility that she may not live another day.

Her hazel eyes can only stare at the man who was about to murder her. For a moment, she was filled with helplessness, the tiny semblance of hope in her quickly dwindling out.

No! I'll overcome this. This won't be the end of me. She willed herself to think. Heather Song is one hell of a woman and she won't come down without a fight.

When he was just a single step away from her, inspiration struck.

As he reached for her, she leaned her head back, waiting for the perfect timing. Once he was near enough, she braced for impact and gave him a headbutt. He fell down to the ground, howling in pain. Heather took the opportunity to flee, liberating herself from the chair.

As she tried to take off, a struggle ensued. She was instantly dragged backwards, the force nearly knocking her out. She felt a sharp prick on her neck before she turned and kicked the man on the groin.

He wailed. Heather didn't wait for him to recover and ran for her life, fear and desperation egging her on. Her bare feet heavily hit upon the concrete floor, as she removed the gag from her mouth.

"HELP! Someone, please help me!" she shouted at the top of her lungs, sprinting. Her bruised arms pushed back against the plastic tarps and navigated the narrow corridor blindly.

Soon, she saw an open threshold nearby. She decided to aim for it. When she was almost there, someone grabbed her from behind, making her scream. She strained to break free from the hold, only to be pulled back again.

"Heather," a voice urged. "Heather, it's me!"

She recognized the speaker, making her stop in her tracks. She turned around and looked back into the dark brown eyes of the man in front of her.

Rafael.

At the sight of him, an overwhelming sense of relief flooded her being. She leaned onto him, feeling his strong presence encapsulate her in a tight embrace.

As the panicked adrenaline to fight for her life slowly dissipated, a rush of tears stained Heather's cheeks like an overflowing dam. So she clung to him, convincing herself that she wasn't imagining him and that her whole ordeal has ended.

"It's okay, love. I'm here, you're safe." Raf whispered, his lips kissing the crown of her head.

But she wasn't.

She felt her knees begin to buckle, her whole body shook. There was a sharp pain in her chest, while her vision of Rafael slowly blurred.

The last thing she could remember was the gentleness of his touch, before her world whirled and faded into darkness.

***

He can only watch the helicopter that airlifted Heather to Edenbrook Hospital. When she was found, a syringe was stuck on her neck, and the paramedics suspected a type of poisoning. Her sudden collapse and the  unknown nature of what caused made the situation urgent, so the response team decided it was best course to fly. 

Even though he yearned to accompany her as she fought for her life, he was hastily denied that right. Rafael seized that away from him, taking it upon himself to stay with her instead.

He wanted to be the first person she sees when she wakes up, to hold her hand, to assure her that she will never have to face horrors like this anymore. But fate wasn't on his side this time. It never was. 

So Bryce chose action. He first called in ahead to give Dr. Ramsey the few details they have on hand. He couldn't bring himself to follow her to the hospital. His mind dictated that he wasn't useful there. Instead, he made himself useful somewhere else. 

And there he was, standing in the middle of the crime scene as he hang up his phone. 

Here is where I can help Heather, he thought. I have to find what was in that syringe. It might be her only hope. 

His tired eyes scanned the floor, trying to pick up any detail that may be valuable. He walked around looking down, flashlight in hand, determined to find just about any kind of clue. 

He winced when he saw blood. Heather's. His chest tightened, anger rising within him. That fucking sicko, I swear I'm gonna give him hell. 

Bryce continued prodding around until he heard a soft jingling noise, making him stop. It felt like he just kicked something. He knelt down and found a torn plastic case and a clear glass bottle. He put on his rubber gloves and picked it up, reading the label. Realizing what it was, he quickly dialed Sienna's number and waited for her to pick up. 

"Bryce?" he heard a familiar voice on the line, but it wasn't Dr. Trinh. 

"Jackie?" he felt an immediate pang of worry, hearing the frantic exchange of voices in the background. But he quickly shook the feeling away. He had to focus.

"I found something that might help Heather. There's a bottle of potassium chloride where she was taken, it's empty. I think that's what the suspect injected Heather with."

"Gimme a second," Jackie said. Bryce waited as he listened to Dr. Varma ask for Heather's blood workup from a nurse. "Her potassium levels are elevated, and she's in cardiac arrest. This makes sense, Lahela." 

"She's in cardiac arrest?" A lump in his throat formed, his grip almost slipping from the bottle he was holding. 

"Yes. But we're trying to get her out of it. Your intel's gonna help us figure the rest out," Jackie said, and he sensed her hesitation before he heard her next words. "She'll pull through. So quit yapping and get your ass over here."

The line went dead. 

It took him five minutes to scale down the building, get into his car and hit the road.

***

The environment in the ER was charged by the frantic beeping of the machine, signalling Heather's ongoing cardiac arrest. 

"We've got suspected hyperkalemia," Jackie sprinted to the doctors surrounding Heather's limp body as she got off the phone. 

"Of course," Dr. Ramsey nodded, as he referred to the latest lab results. "A potassium chloride overdose would've caused her coronary infarction. It may have also caused her temporal paralysis, making her lose consciousness. Do we have her weight?" 

"Yes, Dr. Ramsey," Sienna dictated Heather's latest weight to the senior attending, allowing for him to compute for the correct dosage for the prescription. 

"Calcium bicarbonate for the IV, Kaley please," the male doctor handed a piece of paper where he scribbled the dosage needed. 

"Don't we need to do haemodialysis?" Jackie stood beside him, as she prepared a tourniquet and tried to find a vein where the saline solution can be injected. 

"No, we aren't too late, the potassium haven't bound to the cells yet. Watch out for other symptoms though," Like a well-oiled machine, Heather's mentor gave instructions rapidly, taking the lead role in her treatment. 

The nurse went back with the prescription and Jackie setup the insertion. As the liquid began to flow, they waited and watched the heart rate monitor overhead. 

It took a few seconds before the beeping slowed down into a steady rhythm. There was a collective sigh of relief.

Heather Song just narrowly escaped death. 

Tags: @eleanorbloom @ramsey-lahela @choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics

[fifteenleads]

osamu arrives at the hospital at six AM on the dot.

ever the 'brilliant but lazy' one, he'd always been notorious since clerkship for his habitual tardiness, but with age comes wisdom and a change in values— or, at least, that's what the rest of the staff know for now.

what they do not know is that he could never bear to make his boyfriend wait a minute longer than his twelve-hour night shift, and chief yosano, the sneaky, brilliant witch that she is, took full advantage of that, and then some.

osamu still thinks yosano is too heartless for never putting him and chuuya on the same shift, but putting their shifts next to each other on the schedule makes up for it— sort of.

the critical care wing is quiet, for once, with a couple of janitors mopping away the signs of a previous carnage that had taken place. must have been a rough night, but definitely nothing chuuya couldn't have handled.

chuuya had always been pre-endorsed since clerkship as that one 'harbinger of destruction,' for bringing in floods of patients to whatever rotation he is in until they break beyond full-capacity. unlike osamu, however, he had always reveled in that notoriety every time— "the more patients, the more learning opportunities."

how on earth he had managed to win the heart of someone his complete opposite in almost everything is way beyond osamu, but he need only remember the fireworks on graduation day and barely-heard love confessions shouted at the top of their lungs to make his heart flutter every time.

the call room, too, is quiet, like the aftermath of a typhoon, with everyone's things haphazardly strewn around like no one owns them anymore. osamu makes a mental note to have everyone clear out by endorsement hour— it's an OSHA disaster waiting to happen, and he doesn't feel like dealing with that today.

for now, though, he tiptoes his way to the eye of the storm, and gives his little tempest a wake-up kiss on the cheek. "rise and shine, chibikko; time to switch."

chuuya sleepily uncurls himself from his fetal position on the ruined couch, and nuzzles into osamu's waiting chest. "wha... endorsement already?"

fifteen minutes left, to be precise, but osamu turns back the clock for his monster princess, like always. “in thirty minutes. i'll take things from here, so go home and shower. i like my boyfriends nice and clean."

chuuya makes a face at this, but wordlessly clambers off the couch anyway. he returns osamu's greeting with a quick peck to the lips and saunters off, taking his blood-stained coat and backpack with him.

"by the way," chuuya turns back to him at the door, "is coffee and toast okay?"

"character bento," osamu calls out, hanging his coat by the window, "with a big chuuya-shaped heart in it."

"okay, no breakfast then." the door slams shut, just like that. the one time this happened while the new interns were being nervous wrecks, they immediately fled the call room for dear life, only to return two hours late for their first shift. yosano hadn't been happy with the both of them back then, but teasing chuuya has, and will always be, more than worth it.

endorsement hour starts at six-thirty AM, on the dot, and osamu gets strawberry milk and cookies for breakfast. his good mood lasts the entire day.

[hournites]

A Feast Worthy of Heroes 

Summary: Sir Justin needs to buy food for his new friends before the morning's battle. (1x12) 

~.~ 

The time has come. Sir Justin gripped tightly onto his mop, counting to ten, once, twice, thrice, then again. His breathing quickened as he prepared for the night that would befall them. The dragon had been lurking in the water for far too long. It was time to destroy all that was evil in pursuit of justice. Order needed to be restored and the heirs need to properly claim their rightful rule.

The Queen, her family, and her friends. It was time for them to rise.

Cleaning the halls of the castle that cultivated the queen’s company gave him peace. The job was nothing exuberant, but Justin was used to tasks for every day, forgettable people. It was important to learn to serve and report to others. It was important to remember what it was like to aspire for more so that the appreciation is true after rising above thy station.

The dirty water in his bucket sloshed over its edge. He bent down, his joints tired from his exhaustion, emptying the rest down the drain. Stripesy was so kind to let him rest in his abode, but the truth was he needed this grim janitor’s closet to collect his thoughts. And his monies.

War requires sustenance. He knew from experience. A warrior with a grumbling belly would sooner wind up with the sword of his enemy slashed through his side. It was a common mistake to forget that human necessity before the battle.

Winged Victory was still lost, perhaps only alive in the depths of his mind and the will of his heart. But this car parked in Blue Valley High’s lot would do him good to reach Stripesy’s fortress. Justin looked at the map that Stripesy had so carefully detailed out for him, spreading it across the steering wheel so he could memorize it one last time, then set out for the adventure to find the proper feast worthy of heroes on the way.

Thirty minutes into his drive, he heard a choir’s chorus ring in his ears. The clouds parted above the massive tower with Kentucky’s colonel smiling down at him.

Sir Justin flicked on his indicator and turned left for the parking lot.

“Excuse me,” he greeted once inside, removing his hat to bow in servitude from one lowly worker to another. There was no line, the restaurant was empty. “May I trouble you for some of your greatest meat for feasting? Fit for the strong-willed and brave-hearted?”

One of Colonel Sander’s knights stared back at him, his face stiff as stone. “You want a bucket combo?”

“Yes,” he said. “Three, kind sir. Three buckets of your finest fried poultry.”

"Buckets of ten pieces, twenty or thirty?"

"Twenty?" he guessed. "Enough to feed ten men and women, who may never rest again."

The knight of Colonel Sanders blinked. “Macaroni or coleslaw?”

Justin pondered over that question for a moment, recalling the dishes he used to eat with his eight dear friends, the seven soldiers of victory.

“You ask such profound questions, my lad.” He scratched his beard, taking a little more time. “Which one leaves you with the courage to defeat your greatest foe?”

“Me?”

He smiled. The lad’s lack of courteousness attitude was but a minor weakness in his character. Those with great destinies often display deep doubt before they venture on their life’s path. While Justin was still a page, he had belittled his importance when others addressed him. It was not until King Arthur himself gave him Excalibur and looked him in the eye as though he deserved the semblance of worthiness bestowed upon him did he learn to embrace his own value.

“Yes! What do you fancy?”

His new friend looked taken aback. Although he vowed to give this lad a chance, perhaps he should’ve gone to Taco Bell instead. He has made a few friendly acquaintances there and time was of the essence. There was still another hour of driving to do according to Stripesy’s map.

“The coleslaw, I guess. Unless you’re allergic to mayo. Because that’s slathered all over it.”

“I shall take one of both, then!”  

“And the third one?”

“Coleslaw, for it is your favourite.”

The man tapped the order on the cash register.

“Would you like gravy with that?”

He nodded and fumbled for the bills in his pocket to pay. He put away his change, then sat at one of the plastic tables, since the server of the colonel said there was not enough chicken made yet to deliver his food instantly.

Justin had no problem with that, used to the hours of anticipation for a simple loaf of baked bread. A moment passed, and he noticed all the cobwebs in the corners of the room. The broom was sitting there, resting against the wall with colourful portraits of crispy chicken sandwiches.

He drifted over, picking the broom to clean.

“Hey, man. You don’t gotta do that.”

He chuckled, looking back to find the colonel’s servant with his bags of fried poultry, steaming with condensation. “What’s your name, lad?”

“...Greg? Greg Paymour.”

“Gregory, never cease being true to you. I may look like a janitor, a wageworker, like yourself, but years ago I was chosen for knighthood.” The memories swept Justin away much like the dust in his red pan. “And tonight we prepare for battle.”

“Uh...Okay?”

“Knights serve for their land. In any way they are able. Your master, Colonel Sanders. Do you serve in memory of him to provide for thy family?"

Gregory nodded. "I have a baby at home actually. Never got to finish college, but my girlfriend's working really hard to become an interior designer. "I do it all for those two."

"Ah. You have a princess! Well I too, serve, with soap and water the stains of the foe, in honour of my fallen friends.” He emptied the dustpan into the waste and passed the broom like a baton, taking his bag of food in exchange. “Do you understand me, Gregory?”

“I think so?” He cleared his throat and dusted the grease off on his soft clothed armour. “Yeah, actually. I do.”

Justin shook his hand and fastened his cap again. “Your time is now, my dear fellow. Be well, and thank you.”

The door chimed as he exited, and Sir Justin climbed back into the car at twilight.

[sarcastically-defensive17]

Warriors - Niklaus Mikaelson - 1.

Part 1. Hope you like it! Make sure to check it out on Wattpad, or let me know if I should post updates on here as well!

The golden haired woman snaps her eyes open, her position face-down on the ground proving to be uncomfortable. Her wide brimmed hat discarded long before and as she pushes herself onto her knees, she looks upwards to see it placed on the point of the fountain.

Her eyes pull to the side where she sees Elijah. The room is full of moaning vampires and, despite their assault on both herself and her friend in the hours prior, her heart yearns for her to assist them. Unfortunately she lacks the means to. The well dressed man rises slowly, blood still wet on his neck and covering his crisp white shirt. She knows that the shirt will later be discarded rather than cleaned.

She stands, her hands leaving blood stains on the ground below her. Her feet move her towards her friend who is still looking around dazedly, and she extends a red hand towards him, patiently waiting as he accepts.

"Darling, the house was never in this state when I lived here," she chastises mockingly, her maternal eyes fixing him with a playful gaze. "You boys really must do something about the mess you leave behind. We're you raised in a barn?"

"A small barn-like house actually," Elijah answers, still looking around. "I need to find her, and you must get somewhere safe. The moon is rising." He trails off, starting to wander throughout the compound all the while ignoring Loup's pleas as to who he was looking for.

Her small hands reach out, grabbing harshly on the lapel of his jacket, spinning the vampire around so that his gaze was on her.

"Never-mind me Elijah. Who are you looking for?" She releases every word slowly, a condescending tactic that she would use on her son when he would not listen to her either. Despite the age difference between the two, the woman still holds a sharper focus than the man.

Elijah breathes out one word, "Hayley."

The woman's heart beat picks up drastically. For the past nine months she has kept track of the wolf girl, Hayley, both because of who she is and who she is carrying. His child. "She was here?" The woman gasps out, her mood starts to shift as the moon begins its effects.

"Yes, and now I can't find her." He drags his blood stained hands through his already unruly hair, messing it and disturbing his permanent formal facade.

Their conversation is interrupted by a feminine voice coming from the main room, the sound traveling through the mainly stone compound and sending Elijah's anger skyrocketing. The man stalks towards the doors each step heavier and faster than the last, leaving the woman, shorter by only 5 inches, to jog to catch up to him.

"Marcel!" A small smirk works its way onto Loup's face, "Where is she?" Loup watches as Elijah slows his movements, only to push a chair towards the younger man, most likely an attempt to intimidate him. "Where's Hayley?"

A tall blonde woman walks towards Elijah, obviously human but showing no fear towards the angry vampire, "He doesn't have her. Please, I know you don't trust him but you know I wouldn't lie." Loup stalks towards the woman, getting a closer look at her.

She has a long mop of blonde hair, curled to perfection as it always is, striking green eyes to match her spitfire personality and appears to stand at around the same height as Loup, with the exception of the heels that both wear. Camille O'Connell.

The older woman smiles and steps into view for the two newcomers, one of them paling at the sight, and the other a look of pure surprise.

"Loup?"

Before she could answer, the woman is pulled away and brought face to face with the younger man, Elijah's hand clasped around her shoulder, "Where's my brother?"

Marcel's eyes dart down to Loup, allowing her to watch as a wave of conviction flashes over his dark obs. For a second, she could have sworn that he looked somewhat sympathetic for his actions, all of which Loup heard while she was making her way towards her compound.

His eyes move back to Elijah, his voice deep and almost menacing, "I left him in the street." He looks back towards Loup, almost as if to explain himself, to plead his case, "He was gonna kill me, and then he got jacked up by some witch's spell."

Loup stares back at the younger man, willing herself not to show any emotion. Not for him. Not anymore. She keeps her gaze strong, not faltering and the emotion she had long since buried, stay where it remained for almost fifty years. She barely hears Elijah voice the name of the witch who cursed him, Genevieve.

Loup pulls her arm from Elijah's grasp, almost like a finger clicking she changes. The wolf takes over and her eyes change to a vibrant yellow, before she rushes from the room.

She should have listened to Elijah.

<><><><><><><><><><>

The woman paces the streets of New Orleans, her wolf nose picking up on the many scents. Heavy bourbon, the blood covering her meticulous outfit, the tart scent of witches, and the one incredibly familiar scent. One so intoxicating, one that sates her wolf much like an addict eagerly welcoming their next hit.

The full moon blazing down upon her skin, mixed with the almost rush of the wolf taking control, had Loup looking a sight for sore eyes. Werewolf fangs bared uncontrollably, blood coating her mouth, hands and dress, and her eyes, glowing a bright yellow. The curse of sorts that sets her apart from other hybrids, before they all failed unceremoniously. The power of the full moon causing a sudden change and stripping away her stone faced demeanor, replacing it with a personality not entirely Loup.

Unbreakable and unknown.

A sharp scent catches in the breeze, dancing across her nose, filling her head with the heavy scent. She speeds toward the street where she heard him arguing with Marcel, and casts her yellow orbs on the spattering of blood on the ground and across a car. A growl escapes from her lips.

The blood trail leads towards a bar, one that she did not stop to check the name of, and once she sees the annoyingly familiar red headed witch bitch leave, she makes her entrance. Slumped against a stool next to the wood bar, he sits, the body of a janitor mere metres away from him and blood coating his chin. He holds a look of self pity and anger, scowling at both nothing and everything.

Her sharp heels click on the ground, causing the man to release a deep rumbling groan, either of pain or exasperation. He looks weak, and despite Loup's reservations and reasons to despise the man, the wolf aches. Almost a century of longing, betrayal, and heartache only released once a month after Loup built her walls up, come crashing down on her shoulders once again, and the blonde has no idea how to handle it now that she is face to face with the man.

She steps closer cautiously, unsure if she is cautious of him, or herself. He doesn't look up at her, still taking his anger out in one heated stare pointed at the ground, the blood on his chin beginning to dry along with that coating the neck of his meal.

"Enough of the games, Genevieve. You've had your fun, leave me be," he grunts out, still not looking up at Loup.

She remains quiet, the wolf remaining mute in the presence of one man who Loup had sworn to herself that if she saw alive again in her millennium of life left, she would not back down from. Like she used to. He grows more agitated with her lack of response, both in words and by leaving.

"I said leave-" he begins to hound at her, his dark blue-green eyes snapping to her yellow ones. His breath catches in his throat in an almost audible choke, leaving the woman to scramble towards him. "You... you are not real," he diverts his eyes away quickly, only bringing them back when she places her hands on his face, "I haven't seen you in years, it must be the stones. It has to be the stones..." he trails off.

"Niklaus," her voice is quiet, the slight southern- french accent slipping through if one were to listen closely, "My darling."

Klaus' eyes bore deep into hers, the wolf seeming to retract at the action. Tears well in her eyes although she pleads for them not to fall.

"Genevieve, stop the mind games," Klaus stubbornly orders, ignoring her fingers softly brushing against his cheekbones and underneath his eyes, clearing the tears that he did not know had fallen. Genevieve must be in his mind,  it must be the stones weakening him. He quickly clasps his large hands over her smaller ones, holding but not moving them, still staring deep into her eyes.

Her mind travels to Hayley and her baby, Niklaus' baby, about to face god knows what at the hands of the witches, and she retrieves the caution which she had previously thrown to the wind.

She tightens her grip on his face slightly, forcing him to snap back to reality, "Niklaus, your baby is in danger. Hayley is in danger."

"What?" He attempts to sit up straighter, a pained expression blanketing his features as he does so, and drops her hands almost reluctantly.

"The witches. They've taken Hayley and your baby. Genevieve is behind it."

"Where is she?"

"I caught Genevieve's scent by the church. My darling, you must save your baby."

A quick but soft kiss is pressed against her lips, only lasting for a few fleeting seconds and when she opens her eyes both the pressure and Niklaus are gone leaving her sitting alone in a dank bar. In her city.

[prkcr]

hey there demons, it’s me, ya girl...again. and if you don’t know who i am, then my name is sam, she / her, 21, est timezone and i’m so excited to be here! i wasn’t feeling very inspired with luna so i decided to switch her out with an old favorite muse of mine! ( truly i......love this garbage can SO MUCH. ) that being said, let’s look at the theories! aka i’m a buzzfeed unsolved stan and parker’s intro will be under the cut, so feel free to give that a look and message me if you would like to plot!

「 DANIEL SHARMAN, CISMALE, 27, RISE AGAINST. 」┈ did you read that latest viral gossip issue on RILEY PARKER?  he is the LEAD GUITARIST in RENEGADE, one of my favorite HARDCORE PUNK groups. they’ve been releasing music for FIVE YEARS now, but viral gossip has only been talking about them for the last MONTH. get this, i think i heard HE COULD BE FACING JAIL TIME DUE TO AN ALTERCATION WITH PAPARAZZI. they’re known as the MISFIT of the music industry, since they have a rep for being DAUNTLESS but TEMERARIOUS, but who knows. maybe that will change once they become #1.

so, this guy right here...riley ignatius parker...will throw hands if you call him anything other than parker. it’s what everyone calls him. you gotta be really special to call him riley and not immediately get decked for it

parker was born to a wealthy family in a small but affluent village called alderley edge in cheshire, england. his family is stupid rich, hails from a long line of architects and business people. he spent his early years sheltered and pampered and homeschooled by tutors and nannies, so his parents never spent much time with him, but that’s okay because he never really got along with his parents anyway.

has an identical twin brother named rian who he never ever talks about mostly because they absolutely DESPISE each other. rian thinks parker is a disgrace to their family name, parker thinks his brother is a sheep who turned out exactly like their parents because he always did whatever they said without question. they haven’t seen each other in ages and for the longest time all their interactions have ended in ( usually physical ) fights anyway.

parker’s always been a HUGE TROUBLEMAKER with a restless nature and desire to ~be free~, so his wealthy, uptight, lowkey shady af parents who are obsessed with the family’s image could never really deal with him and eventually resorted to sending him off to boarding schools all over england, just one after the other bc ofc he kept getting kicked out for one reason or another. 

about the only thing he enjoyed about his childhood and schooling were his music lessons. he was taught to play piano, violin, and even the harp. other things like math and history and science didn’t come easily to him at all, but music? he was great at it, and he’s always loved it. during his teen years while away at boarding school was when he first procured an electric guitar and learned to play. along with that, he also discovered punk music, aka the greatest thing in the entire fucking universe if you ask him. far as music goes, he'd found his calling in his early teenage years, but it would take a while for that to really feel legitimate to parker.

he was basically that rebellious kid in all the movies who wore doc martens with his prim & proper school uniform and carried around a pocket knife and cut class to go smoke while vandalizing school property and would absolutely fuck up some prissy pretty boy’s face just for looking at him the wrong way.

literally the only reason he actually graduated rather than flunking out or getting kicked out of every fancy boarding school in the uk was because his father was able to pull some strings aka bought his very last boarding school a whole new library wing. parker did actually consider running away a few times, but there was a part of him really reaaaaally deep down that actually enjoyed some aspects of school ( though he very strongly believes many education systems across the world need a serious overhaul and blahblahblah don’t ask him unless you want a lecture ). anyway, the moment he was done with school, he did finally skip out on...well, everything and everyone and ditched the country altogether, heading out first to new york city for about two years, then california for the last seven.

he’s been completely independent of his parents since the age of 18 and hasn’t had any access to their money since they cut him off for basically running away from home and since renegade only recently hit it big, he’s probably still a little poor tbh.

and since moving to california he’s been jumping from disgusting apartment to disgusting apartment and from shitty job to shitty job. played in various bands on the side, mostly for fun and even sometimes as a frontman himself, but when he joined renegade about five years ago as the lead guitarist, he immediately knew that this was his place. parker absolutely loves being in the band and wouldn’t trade it for anything at all. that being said, the fame that’s sorta popped in out of nowhere in the past month ( ever since renegade signed with a major record label ) has been...something else. being that he’s from a prominent and wealthy family he’s quite used to attention, but he’s also one of those everyone in hollywood is so fake where’s the real people making real music types and seeing as he has a very very short temper...well, parker’s already got a reputation for being a bad boy and yeah, he actually kind of is. he’s especially not a big fan of the paparazzi and is known to be very rude with them and get into actual physical fights with them he will throw hands with a n y o n e i’m telling you. his most recent run - in with a photographer who wouldn’t leave him alone even after parker told him to fuck off a few times ended in him being charged with assault and battery. long story short, he beat the guy’s face in with his own camera. parker’s...eh about it. he doesn’t really care? if you ask him, the guy should’ve just left alone when he told him to and it’s not like parker hasn’t been to jail before. he’s a vandal, a thief, gets into fights more often than he breathes but hey he usually wins so there’s that

i think that’s all i have for backstory atm though i will update this post if i ever feel it necessary. anyway, onto personality!

looks like he could kill you and could actually kill you

that’s it that’s all you need to know

nah jk there’s actually a few more things! first off, he’s basically the living breathing personification of the jerk with a heart of gold tv trope. so, he seems like a major jerk most of the time and that’s because he kind of is. especially around hollywood people, he’s standoffish and snide and just all - around has a bad attitude. he’s very short tempered and impulsive af, but underneath all of that he’s actually an observant and caring person. like, he’s not very book smart but he’s good at reading people and WOW DOES HE FEEL EVERYTHING SO DEEPLY. he’s a ridiculously passionate person. he feels everything all the time. every emotion is felt in extremes and the one that’s usually most prominent? ANGER.

see, parker is just a very angry person because he’s seen the way things are in the world. he’s lived a life of wealth and unimaginable opulence, but then he’s also been so poor that he’s slept beside dumpsters in alleyways. there are so many people out there who need healing in so many ways and he’s seen it for himself so he knows it’s true. yet, nobody really seems to wanna help. so many people seem to be involved in activism for show or for good person points and he just he HATES it. he constantly wants to scream about all of the unfair things going on in the world and how much he wants to just make them better because he is actually a rather compassionate person when someone is in need.

like, he’s the type of guy who says thank you to waiters and janitors and average, working class people — though i imagine anyone who doesn’t know him very well would be surprised by that.

thinks robin hood was a guy with some great ideas

feminist af

extremely sarcastic

also extremely english. he talks with a very thick accent ( similar to how daniel sharman talks actually if you wanted that point of reference for some reason ) and yeah, he’s fulfilling a stereotype here but he doesn’t care — he loves a good cup of tea.

not usually one to initiate conversations but once he actually gets into talking he can be a pretty cool person to talk with. he actually has a lot to say about many different topics and if you can handle his constant like every other word swearing, then parker might just be your guy to have a deep af conversation with at 3am

along that deep af vein, he enjoys the songwriting process a lot and i imagine he’s very involved in it with renegade. he totally doesn’t seem like the type, but he’s got this old messy notebook that he takes with him everywhere and it’s just full of song ideas and other random things. it’s basically a physical manifestation of parker’s brain, so he’s probably not about to just hand it off to some random person. if you want notebook privileges then he’s gotta trust you that’s just how it is

also, a total lovesick fool when he's got a thing for someone — a soft but only for you type and it’s highkey cute af

doesn’t care much for wealth at all. he’s lived that life before, didn’t like it, and these days he’d rather wear his favorite old band shirt stained with motor oil and eat greasy diner food ( mostly french fries ) than have some grandiose celebrity experience. 

not the easiest person to befriend or be friends with, but if you do have him for a friend then guess what? you have him FOR LIFE. parker is super loyal — a true ride or die but don’t fuck it up with him because if you do he will hold a grudge forever

which reminds me: he’s got a motorcycle and HE LOVES IT. he pretty much built it himself from scratch and it’s just...it’s literally his child ok he will FREAK IF YOU TOUCH HIS MOTORCYCLE OK /F R E A K/ LIKE DON’T EVEN LOOK AT IT THE WRONG WAY

i feel like his reputation precedes him even though he hasn’t been around very long and that’s definitely thanks that messy altercation with the paparazzi. like, he literally beat this photographer up with his own fucking camera?? word has definitely gotten around and i think some people might be wary or even afraid of him?? 

though really aside from his short temper he really is and really tries to be a decent guy. anyone who knows him well would see that very clearly and honestly, that’s probably why they stick around even though he can be very difficult.

i think that’s probably enough from me for the moment, right? there’s probably some stuff i’m forgetting, but if i don’t get to a bio page then i’ll just edit this with anything else. i also don’t have a plot page yet but i definitely want all of the connections, so please do feel free to message me if you would like to plot! i’m so excited to write with you all!

[ernmark]

prompt: Juno finds a fake military uniform in peter's bags and is Into It

I had a little too much fun with this one.

NSFW ahoy~

The stress of a long day and a rough case melts off Juno’s shoulders when he opens his front door. Instead of the daunting quiet of an empty apartment, he’s met with the soft noise of running water in the shower and the barely-distinguishable sounds of Peter’s humming echoing off the tile.

He walks past the pile of luggage on the living room floor and lingers in front of the bathroom. Thin rivulets of steam are escaping under the door, spiced with Peter’s ridiculously overpriced body wash, and every inhale leaves Juno feeling a little more human.

He knocks at the bathroom door. “Hey. Mind if I come in?”

Peter’s voice is mostly obscured by the rush of water, but Juno catches enough of the tone to know it’s a yes. He slips inside, shutting the door behind him fast so the heat doesn’t get out. 

The bathroom is hazy with steam. Peter’s long body is stretching underneath the spray of water, kneading white lather out of his hair. The shower curtain that divides them is transparent, but between the folds of the plastic and the rivulets of water on its surface, Peter’s body is more a suggestion of nudity. Even so, Juno’s pretty sure he’s got the clearer view between the two of them; Peter’s glasses are on the bathroom counter by the sink.

“Enjoying the show?” Peter asks, his voice as soft and hazy as the air.

“Always.” Though it’s less the titillation of a shower curtain than it is the comfort of Peter’s presence– the sound of his voice, the second-hand warmth from water turned up past what Juno can stand, the planes and angles of Peter’s body that are so very familiar even when they’re half-hidden. Just sharing this space with him eases away the hurt and headache of today’s case. “God, I missed you.” 

Peter hums warmly, turning off the water and pulling aside the curtain. “Why don’t you come join me, and I’ll show you just how much I missed you?”

It’s a tempting offer, but Juno knows better. Peter fumbles the hot water knob in a way that has nothing to do with his poor eyesight; he’s swaying as he stands, less because he’s trying for sultry and more because he’s having trouble staying upright. Probably the only reason he took a shower instead of going straight to bed is that Peter hates the smell of the spaceport decontamination chemicals. 

“Later,” Juno promises, pulling a towel off the hook and wrapping it around Peter’s shoulders. “Maybe after you’ve had some rest.” A second towel is thrown affectionately over Peter’s head. 

“That does sound–” However that sentence was supposed to end, it’s lost in a yawn wide enough to show off his molars. “I should take care of my things first, though. I’m afraid I left my luggage all over the living room.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Juno offers him his glasses, though they’re too fogged to be much use. “I’ll put everything away.”

Peter leans in, sweet and sleepy. “Only if you put me away first.” 

By the time Juno shuts the bedroom door, Peter is already snoring gently, cushioned on half a dozen pillows and wrapped in as many blankets and kissed so thoroughly that he’ll be finding second-hand lip stain until his next shower. 

It’ll be hours before Juno’s wound down enough to sleep, and so he busies himself with the four oversized space chests on his living room floor. 

Usually Peter travels light; he knows better than to bring his latest prizes home with him. He rarely ever travels with more than a single carryon and whatever he can fit in his pockets.

Bringing back this much all at once? That’s unusual. 

(”It’s evidence, mostly,” Peter had said, nuzzling against Juno’s chest with still-damp hair. “I caught wind that one of my old safe houses was slated for demolition. Those things are old, but some of them are still incriminating. I probably should have sorted through them all back on Trappist 1B, but...” He paused as his lips found bare skin. “I was in a hurry to get back.”)

He taps in the code that Peter gave him before he drifted off and opens the first of the chests.

He has half a mind to call Rita over-- between his eyepatch and the chests of mysterious treasure from a space-faring rogue, she’d be squealing about pirates for the rest of the week-- but Peter deserves his privacy as much as his rest, and Rita won’t give him either. Best to leave her out of this.

Besides, he’s too curious to wait for her to come over.

In the smallest of the boxes are piles of passports for confederacies that no longer exist, and stacks of money that are barely worth the paper they’re printed on, except maybe to a collector. He remembers some of these names; he was still in the HCPD when the news hit that these systems surrendered. The passports he sets aside to be properly destroyed. 

In another box he finds little knickknacks-- jewelry and statuettes, little pieces that might have looked at home on a rich person’s coffee table, puzzle toys and technology so out of date that even Juno can recognize it. Nothing in this box is so large that it couldn’t be squirreled away in one of Nureyev’s pockets, which suggests that these are the little souvenirs that Peter took without thinking, carelessly picked up and just as carelessly discarded. There are a few items in there that might be worth keeping; the rest can probably be pawned, after Rita’s had a chance to dig through them.

The next contains real pirate treasure, by Rita’s standard. These are the kinds of things Peter would have gone out of his way to steal, art and artifacts carefully wrapped to protect them from time and unsteady hands. He knows enough about art to recognize the skill that went into some of these pieces, and he’s worked with Vicky long enough to know that she wouldn’t mind fencing these on Peter’s behalf. 

And in the last, clothes. They’re old and a little musty, but otherwise they’re in good condition. Some are the kind of clothes that Juno might see in a vintage shop, but most of them are uniforms of one variety or another, along with the little props that sell the disguise. A janitor, a delivery person, a health inspector, businessman, and a few other odds and ends. And there, buried among the rest, is a military dress uniform.

He quickly shuts the lid of the trunk, looking around to make sure Peter isn’t lounging in the door. It’s a stupid thing to think-- Peter’s exhausted; there’s no reason why he’d wake up just to watch Juno rifle awkwardly through his luggage. 

He tells himself he’s being an idiot, but his face still heats as he opens the trunk again.

It was just a phase, and it was a long time ago. Mick had (infuriatingly, accurately) guessed that it was just the natural extension of Juno’s childhood fixation on a certain Chainmail Warrior. As a teenager, Juno couldn’t decide whether he wanted to be someone like Andromeda or be with someone like her-- and in a world without dragons or talking lions, the best place to find both was in the Solar military. 

So maybe there had been some fantasies. Maybe, in the last years of the war, he’d hooked up with more than a few people in uniform. Maybe all of that is rushing back to him right now. And maybe, just maybe, he’s imagining what Peter Nureyev would look like in a uniform like this, with the sharp lines and the broad shoulders and the classy boots that you could see your face in.  

Maybe Peter had the right idea with that shower.

Juno never thought he would see this side of Peter.

His willowy thief is gone, replaced by straight lines and hard angles. When he moves, all that slinking elegance is replaced by measured, precise motions.His back could be used as a straight-edge. His slender shoulders are made sharp and broad by a captain’s epaulets. The tailored uniform clings to his body the way Juno wants to, the gold trim leading Juno’s eyes on a tour of Peter’s chest, his hips, his thighs. Peter wears it like a declaration, every inch of the uniform conveying absolute power and unquestioned control. 

And Juno does what anyone would, faced with a sight like that: he sinks to his knees and surrenders. 

Peter’s boot comes down on Juno’s shoulder, heavy and imposing and just threatening enough to make Juno’s heart pound. He tips his head, pressing his lips to the lab-grown leather. The scent of the polish is so sharp and acrid that it leaves him dizzy. 

A rigid hand catches Juno under the jaw and forces him to look up. Even bending over him, Peter’s posture is perfect. 

“Juno.” His voice is clipped and hard, two syllables of pure command, and all of Juno rises to attention.

[huffnpuffsheriff-blog]

Contraband Curses: Fables/Shadowhunters RP

Murder cases in Fabletown were rare. It went hand in hand with the fact that Fables, by their nature, were a hardy lot and difficult to kill on the worst of days. They weren’t indestructible, however - and the sight of the woman’s body on the floor of her tiny apartment was a harsh reminder of that fact. She’d been a pretty thing, in the way that the women of Fabletown were, by majority, uncommonly beautiful, with a cropped, tomboy haircut and angled face with high cheekbones that, the longer one stared, the more reminded they were of a Siamese cat. She’d been of petite build, though it was hard to tell from what was left of her.

“Did you know her, Bigby?” Flycatcher was looking at him a little too keenly under that shaggy mop of red hair. He was dragging his heels a bit, not looking forward to having to start the cleanup process. It was a gory task. “She looks familiar.”

“Kat Maiden. I’ve had her in a couple times for eating mice and reverting to her feline form.”

“She used to date Puss in Boots,” Boy Blue added, which seemed to ring a bell in the janitor’s memory. He nodded in recollection.

“Right… I remember they had a huge spat when she got her curse reversed and moved down here from the Farm.” He looked between the body and Bigby. “Should— maybe someone should tell him—”

“Blue will pass on the information to Weyland,” Bigby Wolf rumbled. “I need you to get started on making this place spotless, as soon as the body is moved to Dr. Swineheart’s examination.”

“She looks… chewed on…”

“Fly.”

The janitor fell silent on Blue’s unspoken warning, looking between his friend and Fabletown’s sheriff.

Bigby could practically feel the hair on his neck standing on end. It was an understatement to say the situation was unsettling. One of their own had been killed, violently, in her own apartment, inside Fabletown’s borders. He could smell the stagnant stink of fear and pain, even hours after her death; it was soaked into the carpet and furniture as much as the now-dry blood was. Her large, blue eyes were still open wide, her mouth open in a silent scream. That was upsetting enough, but there was something else in the air, something that had his hackles high and made the wolf in him want to snap and claw its way to the surface, made his lip curl against his will.

She’d hissed at him when he’d arrested her, the first time. He’d had to resist the urge to growl back.

An overpowering scent hung in the air, something acrid and foul, like someone had set rotten eggs on fire. Even his cigarette smoke couldn’t dull it out. “…Is that …sulfur?”

Swineheart’s autopsy didn’t reveal anything Bigby couldn’t tell from first glance - the unfortunate woman appeared to have been eviscerated, the method appearing to be an animal attack. Parts of her right thigh and much of her gut and her heart were gone, likely eaten judging by the method of removal. He knew all of that. He didn’t need to know the how - it was the what that was bothering him. And he didn’t like the looks he was getting from the Fabletown residents, as word of the murder got around.

Girl gets eaten by an unknown, monstrous beast, who does everyone suspect first? Why not the guy with the M.O. for eating young women? Never mind that he’d been out of that practice for centuries…

There were a few residents on the list that could have pulled off this sort of brutality, though none of them had a recent record of violence. And it didn’t account for that smell, or for the odd substance that Swineheart’s tests were turning up from closer inspection of the wounds.

“You were right about the sulfur,” the Doctor said lightly, as if he were commenting on the ingredients in a drink than the remains of a dead girl. Once a war surgeon, always a war surgeon - very little rattled the good doctor. “She’s practically bathed in the stuff. As for this viscous substance on the wounds - my first instinct is saliva, though it’s not from any creature I’m familiar with. I suggest having them on the 13th Floor take a look at it.”

“Great,” Bigby muttered, taking the proffered vial. The contents looked greasy and stuck to the sides, stained pink with Kat’s blood.

The magical residents didn’t have any better news for him. They looked the contents over, cast uneasy glances between them, and handed it back as if it were diseased.

“Demonic. No doubt about it.”

Bigby looked at the vial with a sinking feeling in his stomach. “….Shit. Hang on, aren’t your wards supposed to be keeping that sort of thing out?”

“They are. And none of us have been summoning such things.”

“Then how—?”

“We will be running our own investigation, Mr. Wolf, make no mistake.” Frau Totenkinder looked up from her ever-present knitting needles. “Curious, though, Sheriff. The young woman that was killed - the cat girl? Her curse was triggered days ago but she was never brought in to have it fixed.”

Bigby frowned. “What are you talking about? She was still human when she died.”

“She wasn’t a few days ago. Probably couldn’t resist pouncing on a pigeon or licking herself in public - whatever the case, I know when one of my curses are tampered with. She was a cat again, yet clearly someone saw to fixing that. And if it wasn’t one of us…”

Bigby’s frown deepened. He didn’t like where this was going at all. “The only other magic users in New York are Downworlders, and we don’t deal with them.”

“Yes, we law-abiding citizens, with no worries of losing our homes and getting sent off to the Farm for not maintaining a human form. We would never consider cheap and desperate measures to avoid punishment.”

The Sheriff glared at her, but didn’t rise to the bait. If Fables were making deals with Warlocks in exchange for glamours or gods knew what else, that was a problem all on its own. Now there was a dead woman in their morgue and in all likelihood some form of demonic creature on the loose.

It had been against his better judgement to tell Snow, who insisted he tell Crane, who’d fallen into a panic over the notion that there may be a breach in the Agreements. Fabletown existed outside of the Accords, an ancient pact between Shadowhunters and Downworlders. They were neither of angel nor demon blood, and it was not a fight they had any part in, but their very existence had been troubling to the self-proclaimed supernatural protectors and nearly ended in an outright war in the Old World. It was only due to finding themselves virtually powerless against the Fables - their runes and weapons were made to harm demonic creatures, not Fables - that the Shadowhunters had finally comes to the conclusion they were better off striking a deal: Fabletown was off limits, and in return, they were not to knowingly harbor any Downworlders attempting to escape justice.

Demons, or at least a strong indication of them, in their midst meant they had a Warlock lurking about - at least, Crane was convinced of it, and insisted they approach the Shadowhunters of New York preemptively. A show of good faith, he said, to prove that if a Warlock was illegally summoning demons in their midst, it certainly wasn’t with their knowledge or blessing!

The kid they’d sent to help him with his investigations couldn’t have been more than a year or two out of his teens. He was tall, blond, handsome enough he could have passed for one of Fabletown’s many prince residents, and carried himself with too-confident of an air. It automatically put Bigby’s nerves even more on edge.