#name me another one that can fill their own special attack

[purestblue]

[kitten4sannie]

middle of the night

pairing: boyfriend! san x fem! reader

genre: pure smut

summary: these days, san can never seem to get a good night’s rest, that is, until he’s able to completely unload himself inside his pretty little girlfriend. good thing you‘re laying right next to him.

w.c: 2.1k

warnings: mean dom! san, subby painslut! reader, both of these mfs are nymphos, somno that turns into full blown sex (they have an established agreement and there is strict consent involved), san’s got a big curved cock as per usual, pet names/name calling, praise/degradation, manhandling, tit play, spit, finger sucking, pussy slapping, marking, possessiveness, spanking, vaginal/anal sex also known as the two for one special <3 (psa: never switch from ass to pussy irl btw), rough altered missionary/doggy/back to missionary, san puts reader in a headlock (muahahahah), creampies, squirting, breeding kink, bulge kink, dumbification, brief oral, san eats his own cum out of reader, this is really filthy btw i should be locked up :3c

a/n: i literally can’t stop writing bc of the horneee that is constantly brought upon me against my will 😞 it’s all san’s fault </3 also i realized i’ve only written one fic about somno like two thousand years ago even tho it’s in my top ten kinks so i gotta fix that <3 *screams* i hope you enjoy this as much as i enjoyed coming up with it~

song recs: angel by massive attack - beware by deftones (GRRRRRRRR BARK BARK)

San couldn’t seem to stop tossing and turning in bed, forcing his eyes shut and waiting for one side of his pillow to grow far too hot for comfort, before letting out a frustrated groan and rolling onto his other side, his cheek squished against the feathered pillow. Squinting at the glowing analog clock on the bedside table across from him, San blinked a few times, his eyes getting used to the darkness inside the room. It was already nearing dawn and he still hadn’t gotten a wink of sleep. There had to be some kind of solution.

It was then that you shifted besides him, emitting a soft moan and rolling onto your back, your loose tank top lowered just enough so that one of your tits had popped out of it, creating another obstacle for San to overcome, one that wouldn’t let him fall asleep until he confronted it.

“Fuck,” San whispered to himself, pushing the covers down far enough to confirm his growing problem. With half-closed, tired eyes, your boyfriend watched his cock repeatedly throb upwards against his loose black sweatpants, as if it was begging him to do something, and quick.

Hs thought back to a conversation you had earlier that week, one you brought up after he had just got done fucking you all over the house in every position imaginable. Like many of your sex marathons, it was initiated because of something simple — you being bent over the washing machine to fill it up with a load of detergent, which, of course, led to San filling you up with his own load in every possible area of your house, including the back patio when you tried to water your poor succulents.

“Sannie, you might as well fuck me when I’m asleep too, at this point,” you giggled, running your fingers through San’s soaked hair, admiring the way he looked in between your legs, with his mouth and tongue exploring your leaking, cum-filled cunt.

“You mean that, angel? My dumb slut wants me to fuck her even dumber in her sleep?” he asked in between licks, humming softly as he continued to languidly clean you up after the destruction he caused to your used hole. It was his favorite pastime, besides rearranging your insides and painting them white with his seed, of course.

Moaning at his mean words, you tugged on his hair, rubbing your soaked pussy in his face like you always did. “Yes, I mean it, baby. Now, shut up and clean up your mess.”

Before San knew it, he was hovering over you, your thighs wide open and resting against his own, your loose, nonexistent sleep shorts tossed to the side so that he could eagerly rub his slick cock along your plush folds, his thick, calloused fingers exploring every inch of your heated skin, groping at your soft thighs, your hips and waist, eventually getting distracted by your tits, rolling your tank top up over them until they spilled out into his greedy hands. He squeezed and rolled them around, bringing his drooling mouth down to your chest to drag his hot tongue up and over your tits until they shined with his spit, pinching your puffy nipples in between his teeth until you whined out in your sleep, feeling your arousal leak out onto his pulsing cock when he finally pushed inside.

“Mmn, my angel is such a good little cocksleeve, so fucking wet for me even in her sleep,” San sighed lovingly to himself, sucking one of your tits into his mouth, spitting on it for good measure, before exchanging it for the other, moaning around your soft flesh, his eyes never leaving your pretty flushed face, even though you weren’t even awake to look down at him.

Unable to hold himself back, he began to buck his hips wildly into you like he always ended up doing when your tight, warm cunt sucked him in the way it did, the headboard beginning to bang loudly against the wall behind it. Grunting, San licked up from your spit-laced chest to your neck, sucking and biting into it, leaving his mark on you. “My baby, my sweet girl, you’re mine, all mine, even when you’re dreaming,” he whispered against your slick skin, slowly pulling back when he heard the breathy gasps you were letting out turn into full-blown moans.

“S-sannieee, I’m so full,” you voiced in a sleepy tone, reaching up to rub your tired eyes, studying your boyfriend’s rosy cheeks and lips, the way his drenched hair stuck to his forehead, a few drops of sweat landing on your face, unable to look away from his intensely dark, lust-filled gaze. “Is my pussy making Sannie go crazy?”

A low growl erupted from San’s throat, a vein starting to grow taut against his skin, now that he was pounding into you with abandon, reaching up underneath your thighs to forcibly fold you in half like you were nothing but a doll for him to use. “Your slutty cunt always drives me crazy, princess, so be good and take responsibility, hm?”

Barely able to breath now that you were akin to origami, your brain grew delightfully fuzzy from the lack of oxygen, encouraging the hazy, half-asleep state you were still in and the oversized cock that was being driven relentlessly into your cervix to work in tandem until pleasure overtook your body to the point of orgasm. “Fuck, Sannie, baby, fffuuck, I’m cumming…!”

“Oh, my dirty girl, creaming yourself so soon?” San mused with his lips quirked into a shit-eating grin, his dimples and canine teeth on display. Just as your eyes begin to disappear underneath your fluttering eyelids, San suddenly grabbed you by the chin, reaching down in between your sweaty bodies to smack his hand down roughly against your spasming cunt. “Look at me when you’re squirting on my cock, baby. You know better.”

“S-sannie, it’s so, oh my god–” you cried out, opening your mouth to moan and instead feeling his thumb slide over your tongue, your lips closing around it. You continued to suck on his thumb as he fucked you through your first mind melting orgasm of the night, biting into it when he smacked your cunt again with his free hand.

“Owww, bad girl.” San watched you lick and suck on his thumb with a lecherous smile plastered on his red, sweaty face, rubbing his other thumb roughly into your puffy clit, rolling it in circles until he felt your thighs trembling nonstop against his moving body, suddenly stopping his movements to sheath himself fully inside you, groaning heavily as he flooded your pulsing cunt with his hot load. “Mm, you feel that, princess? I’m pumping all my cum into this slutty womb of yours, so I can get you nice and knocked up for me…You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

Just as he pulled his thumb out of your drooling mouth, you clasped your hands onto his cheeks, looking up at him hearts in your teary eyes, and begging, “Yes, Sannie, I like it, love it so much. Can I have more?”

And there it was. You might’ve been the love of his life and his beautiful angel of a girlfriend, but you were still his personal breeding bitch at the end of the day — and in the middle of this hazy, sleepless night.

“Oh, yeah?” San hummed, slowly pulling out of you and running his fingers through his wet hair, just for it to fall back into his half-lidded eyes, watching as his cum began to flood out of your gaped, fluttering hole. He wanted nothing more than to eat it out of you, his mouth watering at the thought of tasting the warm saltiness mixed with your sweet squirt on his lips, but he still had to pursue his mission of pleasing his baby. “My little slut still hasn’t had enough?”

“No, Sannieee, I need your cock in my other breeding hole. Please?” you whined softly, pouting up at him, hoping you’d get your way now that you were fired up and desperate for him to fill and own as many of your holes as he could before the both of you fell victim to drowsiness.

San closed his eyes to ground himself for a second, not even fully prepared for the filth that you exuded, despite being quite the pervert himself. When he opened his eyes back up, he looked down, his curved cock now painfully stiff and twitching upwards into his heaving abdomen, somewhat winded from how hard he had been fucking you just a moment ago. “Head down, ass up, little slut. Don’t make me ask twice.”

And just like that, you were lying with your head pressed into bed, drooling heavily from both ends, getting saliva onto the arousal stained mattress, your sopping wet cunt pushing out all of San’s load and causing it to drip down your inner thighs, your weak, bruised knees wobbling beneath you, your ass being relentlessly pounded into by your ravenous boyfriend. “Gonna cum, gonna cum–”

Your warning was cut off by a sharp gasp, just as San’s hand collided with the side of your reddened ass, his fingers grabbing into the soft, sensitive flesh until you whimpered pathetically. “You’re such a filthy slut, aren’t you?” he growled between gritted teeth, smacking the other side of your ass and making you cry out before you could answer him properly. He suddenly pulled out of your ass and forced himself back into your cunt, stuffing you completely full, hunching over you so that he could put you in a headlock, loose enough so that you remained conscious, but tight enough so that you could feel deliciously dizzy. “You’re my filthy slut. All mine to fuck raw, to ruin, to breed. Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you whispered hoarsely, opening your mouth up to accept his tongue inside when he closed in on you, feeling breathless once he manipulated your body until you were back underneath him, your legs near your head, his cock so deep inside your cunt that the tip of it created a prominent bulge inside your stomach, one that San was already palming as he began to shudder, his lips, teeth and tongue attacking your neck again to leave more marks, darker ones that you would have to put concealer over before you went to work the following morning. “That’s it, that’s it, cum inside me, San, please, make me yours!”

“You’ve been mine since the beginning, angel, but I’ll make you mine again, and again, and again,” San exhaled onto your lips, wrapping his arms protectively around you, his cock completely sheathed inside you, his tip just about kissing the entrance of your cervix, your bodies so entangled together, neither of you knew where the other began. You gazed into each other’s hazy eyes, moaning into each other’s open mouths, as another seemingly endless flood of thick, hot cum claimed your womb. “I love you so fucking much, it hurts.”

“I love you too, San,” you sighed back, caressing his heated face, your fingers slipping into his hair just as he began to lower himself down, shuddering at the sensation of his lips and teeth making their mark on your chest, abdomen, hips, then gasping when he made his way to your center, his hot tongue slipping inside your pulsing cunt.

Like every time before, San ate his warm load out of you like a starved man, his nose nudging your sensitive clit as he moved his head in an up and down motion, coaxing more of the saltiness onto his tongue, reaching up to rapidly rub your clit just because he could, pleased with the way you began to cry and shake, your warm squirt pouring down his throat. He swallowed it all down with a low, pleased groan, dragging his tongue up and over your used, puffy cunt to collect the last few drops of nectar, before he finally felt tired enough to collapse down onto the bed next to you.

With the last ounce of his strength, he pulled you into his arms, pressing a kiss to your forehead, then to your lips, letting you taste your combined essence. “Bedtime?” San whispered, cradling and rubbing your cheeks with his thumbs, looking at you with a fondness that bordered obsession. He chuckled softly, giving you a dimpled smile. “I promise I won’t wake you up again.”

“You won’t wake me up, but you still might fuck me in my sleep? Huh, nympho?” you teased jokingly, cradling his face back, so close that you breathed in the same air, your eyes never leaving his, despite how heavy your eyelids began to feel. “I need my sleep, you know.”

San was in a similar state, starting to drift off, his hands leaving your face so that he could wrap them protectively around you. “Sorry, baby. I’ll try to be quieter next time,” he murmured, letting out a soft giggle, pressing a kiss to your lips just as his eyes began to close. “Just don’t be mad at me when you wake up with my cock still inside you…”

Leaving a kiss on his nose, your eyes started to close as well, completely relaxing into your boyfriend’s warm embrace. “I’ll be mad if it’s not still inside me.”

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© kitten4sannie, 2024.

[sceletaflores]

it’s the easiest thing (just love me and eat me)

pair: logan howlett x mutant!fem!reader

wc: 6.1k

anon says: nat pls speak on sub!logan...people are hating on the sub!logan agenda and someone needs to show them that they're wrong and it can be done cuz if anyone can convince them it's you mommy!

contains: 18+ SMUT MDNI, crimson! again! she's back!, slight angst, swearing, violence, light gore, somewhat dark content, religious symbolism? (idk this one got weird babes), established relationship, lowkey a toxic relationship but you didn't hear that from me, sub!logan-ish, handjob, p in v, slow sex turned rough, unprotected sex, riding, creampie, pain kink, scent kink, blood play, blood...eating (drinking? idk), porn with a tiny bit of plot, no use of y/n.

author’s note: anon i'm so sorry this took me so long...i hope it was worth the wait! it started as a short smutty drabble that somehow turned into…this? idk it got out of hand so fast. i am a proud member of the sub!logan nation but that's mostly because i think that ALL men have the potential for sub vibes like doesn't matter who he is if i want to fuck him he's probably a little subby. special shout out to my baby boo and fellow sub!logan truther @avocado-writing <3 tysm for sharing anon! xoxo mwah.

dividers by icon @saradika-graphics!

psst! want more logan and crimson? here's the to the bone au masterlist!

it’s not often that logan needs this, but you’re always more than happy to give it to him when he does…

The team had a big scare earlier in the day.

It was supposed to be an easy mission, bust a mutant trafficking ring in Albany. You do assignments like these every week, and as sick as it sounds, it’s almost routine.

But this one was different. It was an ambush, and you were compromised.

Only humans, but they were smart. Waited until the team split up to attack. They had tech, things you'd never seen before.

Big guns loaded with tiny darts full of an ominous red liquid.

It was your fault really. You didn't clear your surroundings, so focused on getting to the kids that you let yourself get sloppy.

The tiny sting in your back barely registered, you don't think you would have even noticed if it didn't kick in so fast.

You'd never felt anything like it before in your life.

It didn't hurt. The rush of pain you braced yourself for never coming.

The sensation was strange—like your body was shutting down, piece by piece. You fell to your knees, shaky legs folding under you in less than a second.

You felt empty, wrong. An eerie silence trickling in to fill your insides.

Panic bubbled beneath your skin, but you were too numb to feel it. Trapped in the mounting weight of your limbs, the slow blink of your eyes, the shortness of breath despite hardly moving.

Your hand slipped across the gritty cement, reaching for support that wasn't there.

That was when you saw it, the shock of it was enough for your heart to drop. Your skin, blanched and sallow, the veins in your arms black and spreading like spilled ink.

You tried to fight it, tried to will your body to move, to react, to do something. You had to get up. You had to. The kids.

As hard as you willed yourself, there was nothing. It was like your body wasn't your own, like it had become something completely foreign.

You could barely make out the tiny voices calling for you. Pleading, frantic yelps of your name fading into a dull hum as everything went hazy. The edges of your vision blurring into a narrow tunnel.

He stepped in front of you, the same one who shot you. A cynical grin on his face and collar in his hand. You'd seen collars like it before, used on mutants to muzzle their abilities, to weaken them.

You tried, fingers barely twitching by your. Nothing. Just another shock of that cold, unfamiliar feeling shooting through your body.

“Got a big one, boss.” The man boasted into a comm strapped to his wrist, his voice sharp and grating. He took a single step towards you, smug grin still stretched across his face. “Yeah, real nice lookin' one too. She'll sell for—“

A muddy roar pulsed through the molasses filled haze of your ears, six claws flying through the air to embed themselves on either side of the man's skull with a wet, stomach-churning sound.

The collar dropped from his slackened grip with a dull bang, shattering into different pieces that slid across the floor haphazardly. A mess of wires and metal.

There were rushed footsteps before he dropped to his knees in front of you, his torso bathed in a dull glow from the overhead lights yellow shine.

There was blood splattered across the side of his face, slicking the front of his suit enough to reflect light off the leather.

Logan, perched in front of you like an angel.

Not one with a golden halo and a harp, but a indescribable mess of eyes and wings looming over you calling 'be not afraid'.

You'd never seen him so shaken before. All wide-eyed and pale as he checked you over for any major injuries. His breath coming in short bursts, hands frantic and shaky as they skated along your body for the viscosity of blood or uneven shift of a break.

He refused to let you even try and walk on your own, swept you off the floor and cradled your trembling body to his chest as he called for help. The beat of his heart was fast beneath your cheek, strong enough that you could feel it even through the thick leather of his suit.

You buried your face deeper in the crook of his neck, the pit in your stomach barely warmed by the feel of him. His scent is strongest there, so much so that in a room full of spilled blood, you could only smell him.

He was careless stepping over clawed up bodies littering the floor like a messy maze of twitching limbs and entrails. You didn't even know there was more than one guard in the room.

The evidence of his love for you, of his devotion, oozing red on the concrete.

Logan didn't even give the carnage a sideways glance as he raced you outside, back to the jet.

Trusting Scott and Jean to take over getting the kids out. The unsteady murmurs he pressed to the top of your head the last thing you heard before there was nothing.

You woke up six hours later.

The sterile hum of medical equipment was the first thing you heard. The sharp scent of antiseptic filled your nostrils, and the faint pressure of a needle in your arm confirmed that you were hooked up to an IV. 

Your muscles felt heavy, like someone had filled them with lead. But you were alive.

You could feel your body working overtime, fixing itself. The sickening shift of your insides falling back into place. 

It took a few more moments for you to realize you weren’t alone.

A low, familiar rumble caught your attention. You turned your head to see Logan slumped in a chair by the bedside, his face buried in his hands, elbows resting on his knees. His hair was mussed, his usually sharp features softened by exhaustion. 

He looked different, smaller, as though the weight of what happened was pressing down on him, making him fold in on himself.

You’d seen him bloody, beaten, on the verge of death, but you’d never seen him like this–completely and utterly human.

Your throat was too dry to speak, but a small sound escaped you, and Logan's head snapped up. His eyes met yours, and in a heartbeat, he was at your side, his large hands hovering over you, unsure where to touch, like he was afraid you’d shatter under his fingers.

“You’re okay,” he whispered, more to himself than to you. His voice was hoarse, cracked with a mixture of relief and something else, something deeper. His eyes darted over your face, your arms, as if memorizing every detail just to make sure you were real.

“I'm sorry,” you managed, your voice barely more than a rasp.

Logan's eyebrows furrowed, the lines in his forehead deepening. "What the hell are you apologizing for?" His voice was gruff, but there was a tenderness beneath it. A gentleness he only reserved for you.

Your lips cracked into a weak smile. "It was my fault. I messed up."

A growl rumbled low in his chest, and you could feel the anger simmering just beneath his skin, not at you but at the situation, at whoever had dared to hurt you.

“Don’t,” he said, voice like gravel. “Don't start, none of this is on you.” His voice softened slightly as he leaned closer, the warmth of his presence enveloping you. “What matters is you’re here.”

The reassurance wrapped around you like a warm blanket, grounding you.

Logan’s thumb traced the line of your jaw, his touch sending a spark of warmth through your veins. “When I saw you on the floor like that…I thought—” He shook his head, jaw clenched as he forced himself to meet your gaze again. “I thought I lost you.”

Your fingers twitched slightly, managing to catch his wrist, squeezing it with what little strength you had. “I’m right here,” you said softly, voice clearer than before. “I’m okay.”

Logan’s gaze softened again as he looked down at your hand, his rough exterior cracking just a little more. He gently pried your fingers from his wrist and pressed your hand to his chest, right over his heart. “You scared the hell outta me, you know that?”

You tried to laugh, but it came out as more of a breathless huff. “Didn’t mean to.”

He shook his head, but there was a ghost of a smile tugging at his lips, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “You never do.”

You were fine an hour later. 

The color of your skin had returned, glossy and like new. The hollow emptiness inside of you long gone. Your abilities passed every test Charles threw your way with flying colors.

Fully recovered and finally excused from the med-bay after Hank and Jean checked you over one last time, you were given your strict marching orders in the form of extra fluids and bed rest, no matter how much you argued that you were fine.

Your health was the last thing on your mind, just a distant phantom ache each time your eyes would find Logan.

He was still shaken up, even after all the reassurance from Charles and Hank. He kept close the rest of the day, hovering, his presence more protective than usual, but he didn’t talk much.

You could see it in the way he moved, slower, less sure, like he was carrying around something too heavy to shake off. It lingered in the tight set of his jaw, the way his hands flexed as though still looking for something to fight, to protect you from.

It wasn’t hard to guess what it was. 

You hated seeing him like this, burdened by a guilt he didn’t deserve. 

It gnawed at you, that heaviness. The way he started to shut down, to close himself off in the face of fear. It was the only way he knew how to cope.

After seeing him like that, bed rest was the last thing on your mind.

You knew Logan. Knew what he needed when his thoughts got tangled up like this, dragging him under. He wasn't the type to sit and talk through it, not easily anyway. 

And even though you know he’d never ask for it himself, you knew what he needed—to be reminded, physically, that you were still here, still his.

Later that night, when the mansion had quieted and the others were tucked away in their rooms, you found him exactly where you thought you’d find him—in the room you shared, sitting on the edge of the bed. The yellow light from the bedside lamp cast soft shadows across his face, the tension in his jaw still there.

A frown tugged the corners of your mouth as you moved towards him, catching his attention with the rustle of the sheets as you sat next to him.

“Logan,” you say softly, breaking the stillness. He doesn't respond, only the slightest twitch in his shoulders indicating he even heard you. “Hey,” you try again, your voice a little firmer this time.

He turns his head just enough for you to catch the edge of his profile, the crease between his brows, weariness etched into his features.

But he still doesn't speak.

You shift, moving closer until your fingers brush his arm, the heat of his skin radiating through the fabric of his shirt. “Look at me,” you whisper, and finally, his gaze lifts to meet yours, guarded and pained. “I’m fine. I’m right here.”

Logan shakes his head, bringing a hand up to run it through his already messy hair. “You could’ve died,” he bites out, tone rough and low. “We should've never fuckin' split up. I should’ve been there faster, sooner. I should’ve–”

“Logan.” Your voice cut through his, sharper than you meant it to. You catch his hand in yours, thumb brushing against the pulse point of his wrist. “You saved me, I’m not going anywhere. I need you to hear that.”

He meets your gaze then, eyes dark with something vulnerable, something raw. He nods weakly, like he only half-believes it. You can still see the hesitation swirling through his eyes, the reluctance in the stiffness of his muscles against yours.

He needs something more than words, something to bring him back to you.

With that, you move to straddle his lap, your knees pressing into the mattress on either side of his thighs. His body stiffens under yours, his breath hitching slightly as his hands fall to your waist almost instinctively.

“Hold on,” Logan starts, tone hesitant and hands light as they hover over your hips like he’s still scared to touch you. “You heard what Hank said–”

“I’m fine,” you repeat, finality lacing your tone and leaving no room for argument. You reach down, taking his hand in yours and bringing it up to press flat directly over your heart. The very same way he did your first night together. "Can you feel me?”

The question hangs between you, soft but weighted with purpose.

Logan’s breath catches in his throat, fingers splaying wider across your chest. The heat of his palm sinks through to your skin, lighting a fire in you. 

The steady beat of your heart under his touch is an undeniable reminder–alive, strong, with him. You can feel him relax, just a touch.

The tension in his muscles breaking down beneath you piece by piece as the rhythm grounds him, helps to pull him out of his spiral.

“Yeah,” he mumbles, barely audible. His eyes drop to where his hand rests, his thumb absently grazing the space just above your sternum. “I feel you.”

“Then trust it,” you murmur. “Trust me.”

A deep, slow breath escapes him, and something in his eyes softens just enough. You lean closer, your fingers trailing up his arms, over his shoulders, until they thread into the hair at the nape of his neck. 

You smile softly, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead. He sighs deeply, leaning into your touch like a dog starved of attention from its master. His grip on your waist finally tightens, fingers pressing into your skin just enough to feel that edge of need—the need to let go.

“You’ve been taking care of me all day,” you murmur, scratching your nails along his scalp softly. “Now let me take care of you.”

You feel him shudder, a weak groan escaping from his slack lips. His hazy eyes search your face, pupils blown out and seeping into the warm hazel color like an oil spill over a lake.

You tilt your head, lips grazing the stubble on his jawline, moving slowly, deliberately, until you can capture his mouth in a kiss.

It’s soft at first, gentle, but you feel him melt into it, the sharp edge of his restraint crumbling as he kisses you back with a kind of hunger that fuels you.

Logan’s hands slide up your back, fingers curling into the fabric of your shirt as you take control, deepening the kiss, coaxing him further into the moment.

His mouth is warm and wet and urgent against yours, the scrape of his teeth along your bottom lip sends a thrill down your spine. 

His lips move over yours with a reverence that makes your chest tighten, as if each slick glide of your lips together is an apology, a promise, and a plea all rolled into one.

But you don’t want his apologies. You want his surrender.

His breath stutters in his chest when your fingers twist in his hair, tugging just enough to remind him who’s in charge tonight.

When your hand finds his chest, pushing him down gently, he goes without protest. His eyes never leave yours as he settles against the pillows, following your every movement as you crawl closer.

Climbing over him to perch on top of his thighs, you waste no time in reaching for the hem of his shirt, gently tugging on it in a silent question. Logan’s breath comes in shallow puffs as he nods, fingers twitching on your hips. 

You can feel the way his chest rises and falls under the tips of your fingers, the sharp intake of air when your hands ghost across the skin of his lower stomach as you lift his shirt up and over his head.

You toss it over your shoulder carelessly, it lands with a muted thump somewhere behind you, leaving his chest bare. His muscles taut and rippling as he forces himself to stay still, the dim light plays across his skin, highlighting the contours along his torso.

You take a moment to just admire him, trailing your fingers along the familiar planes of his skin. Your touch is feather light, tracing over the spots that should be littered in scars. 

The place in his shoulder where he got shot two weeks back, or where the loose shrapnel that embedded itself in his side on the last mission should be, or the skin where his shoulder meets his neck after you dug your teeth into it hard enough to bleed a few nights ago.

The way his body responds to you makes your pulse quicken—the way he finally relaxes completely under your touch, melting into the mattress. 

You continue your path down, fingers slipping through the ridges of his abs, scratching your nails through the dark hair that disappears into the waistband of his bottoms teasingly. The muscles of his stomach jump under your touch, the power of his need thrumming beneath your touch.

You drag your hand over the hard length of him, his cock thick and hot as it twitches beneath your fingers. There’s a sharp hiss bleeding through grit teeth as his hips twitch up off the mattress ever so slightly.

You lean forward, hiding a small smirk in the crook of his neck. “Logan,” you whisper, voice dripping with intent, “I want you to beg for it.”

A deep, guttural growl rumbles through his chest. It shakes your body like thunder, finding a home between your thighs. Logan’s head falls back against the pillows, exposing the tan column of his throat to your hungry gaze.

It’s almost immediate, your reaction, your bodies reaction. The pulse of your blood starts to simmer with that telltale heat, slowly bubbling beneath your skin in anticipation.

Your gaze traces along where the vein of his jugular presses against his skin enticingly, barely suppressing a full body shiver at the sight.

You slip your index and middle finger beneath his waistband, brushing against his hard cock with barely any pressure. His hips buck up again, seeking more friction, but you pull back slightly, making him chase it.

“I said beg, Logan,” you murmur, your voice low, teasing, a sharp edge to it now. Your free hand comes up, gripping his jaw tightly, forcing him to look at you.

His eyes, dark and blown wide with lust, meet yours, and you can see the war raging inside him—the urge to dominate, to take control—but then he’s giving in to you, surrendering so beautifully.

“Goddamn,” he rasps quietly, his voice rough, broken. It’s barely a word, more of a growl torn from his throat. He bites it out, quiet and foreign sounding coming from his tongue. “Please, I need—”

“Good boy,” you purr, and finally, drag the soaked fabric of his bottoms down. His cock springs free, slapping against his stomach lewdly.

You moan softly, deftly wrapping your fist around him loosely. Logan groans, you swear you can hear his teeth grind together at the first feeling of your touch where he wants it most.

He’s scalding to the touch, velvety skin throbbing in time with his heartbeat. Rock-hard and flushed an angry red, darkening even more the closer you get to the tip.

You keep the pace of your strokes tortuously slow, letting him feel every movement, teasing him. It’s addictive, watching the way he starts to unravel beneath you at the slightest touch.

His legs kick out against the mattress minutely, hands falling from your hips to grip the sheets as hard as he can in a failing attempt to calm himself.

You lean down, slick lips brushing against his as you speak, your voice soft but commanding. “You’re going to let me do whatever I want to you tonight, aren't you?”

Logan nods, his breath coming in quick pants, his sweaty chest rising and falling rapidly. “Yes,” he chokes out, eyes brimming with need. “Fuck, do whatever you want, baby. I’m yours.”

The usual dominance he carries like a second skin has been peeled away, leaving him vulnerable, laid out beneath you, at your mercy.

Your hand speeds up, grip tightening as you twist your wrist over his leaking tip. Your knuckles shine with pre-come, slick from the gratuitous amount of wetness steadily drooling out.

“You’re being so good for me, Logan,” you whisper, your voice soft and laced with praise. “So good, letting me take care of you like this.”

His response is a loud moan, his hips arching up off the bed, but you’re quick to press them down with your free arm, your thighs tightening around him.

“Not yet,” you warn, strength on display as you stop his movements. “You’ll come when I say.”

A strangled sound escapes him, somewhere between a growl and a whimper, and it sends a thrill through you. He’s right there, teetering on the edge, but he’s holding on—for you.

“Poor thing,” you mumble, idly pressing your thumb into his slit, gathering the precome there to spread it along the flushed crown. “So hard, so needy for me.”

“Jesus, fuck,” Logan whines, his head tipping back against the pillows a second times, eyes squeezing shut tighten enough to wrinkle the skin around them.

You smile, your nails digging into his chest as you shift, positioning yourself above him. The heat between your legs is unbearable now, slick all along your inner thighs as it pools from your aching cunt, drenching the soft cotton of your panties.

So desperate to be stretched around Logan’s cock, to be filled the only way he can. You roll your hips forward, the hard jut of his cock sliding through the sticky mess of your panties.

“Shit, baby,” he groans, loud and hoarse. “Fuck, give it to me, I’m ready–”

You press your finger to his lips, silencing him as you hover over him. “Not yet,” you whisper, a wicked grin on your face as you slide your panties to the side and take him in your hand, letting the tip brush against your soaked entrance, still not giving him what he craves.

Your own patience is starting to run thin, but the sound of his begging is too good.

“Tell me how bad you want it,” you say, your voice sharp and commanding as you rub the tip of him along your cunt, teasing. “Tell me what you need.”

He’s trembling beneath you, a soft whimper leaving his lips as you sink down slightly, barely letting him inside. "Please, darlin'," he groans, voice rough with need. "I need to feel you—need you so fuckin’ bad."

You finally give in, sinking down onto him in one slow, deliberate motion.

His body jerks beneath you, a choked growl spilling from his lips as you take him in, inch by inch. You don’t stop until he’s buried deep inside you, your walls clenching around him as you settle into his lap.

The feeling is overwhelming, the stretch, the heat, the way he fills you completely.

You both groan at the same time, your fingers digging into his shoulders as you roll your hips, savoring the way he pulses inside you, how his entire body reacts to every little movement.

“God, you’re so big,” you whisper, your voice heavy with lust as you look down at where your bodies meet. “You gonna be a good boy and let me ride you?”

“Fuck,” he grits, voice like gravel crunching underfoot.

His hands slide up your back, desperate and needy as they cradle the back of your head softly. “I’d kill them all,” he pants, lips messily searching for your own, desperate for more frantic kisses. “Fuckin’ all of them, all for you.”

You moan loud and unabashed, eyes screwing shut as your nails rake down his chest hard enough to break the skin. The smell of his blood breaks through the air, heady and sharp. He throws his head back, a broken gasp dragged out of him as his hips speed up.

You think back to the room in the warehouse, the floor slick with stray remains and viscera. Think back to him lifting you to his chest, of the blood spattered across his suit and face slipping against your own clammy skin.

Flashes of Logan running to you like a loyal livestock dog, covered in the blood of any wolf that dares attack his precious sheep. Staining the white of your wool red with the righteous wrath of his sacrifice. 

You roll your hips faster, bouncing with enough force to have you crying out. The tight suction of your walls pulling him as deep as he can get at this angle.

The coarse hair along his stomach drags against your throbbing clit, making white hot sparks of pleasure zing up your spine to light up each vertebrae. 

Logan presses his forehead to your chest, hot breath puffing out over your sweaty neck. You tilt your head to the side almost subconsciously, bearing more of yourself to him.

“Can’t hold back much longer,” he admits weakly, blunt nails digging into your skin sharp enough to sting. “Feels so good, so fuckin' good."

He trails off, face pinched with ecstasy as he gazes up at you. You smile, rolling your hips slowly, tiny figure eights that let you feel every inch of him pressing against your walls.

“You're not supposed to hold back," you whisper, your voice thick with need as you lean down, kissing along his jawline. "I want you to let go, Logan."

His eyes snap open, the hazel gone wild and desperate, and it’s like you can see the exact moment he breaks. The tiniest shred of self control finally crumbling under the weight of his instincts. With a low, feral growl, he surges up.

You’re on your back quicker than you can blink, stomach surging with it. You hardly have any time to react, Logan punching all the air out of your lungs as he sets a brutal pace.

The sudden intensity has you gasping, your body jolting as he takes over, fucking you like his life depends on it. 

Each thrust is hard and deep, hitting the spot inside of you, over and over again until you’re a trembling mess above him, moaning his name, your nails digging into his chest.

Logan’s grip on you is ironclad, pulling you back onto him harder, faster, his breaths coming out in ragged pants as he loses himself completely in the heat of your body.

"That's it," you pant, feeling the way your body tightens around him, the tension building deep inside you. "Fuck, Logan, just like that—"

He growls again, the sound vibrating through his chest as he slams into you harder, his pace relentless. You can feel the sweat slick between your bodies, hear the wet, filthy sounds of your bodies coming together as his control snaps completely.

“Mine,” he growls between thrusts, voice low and rough as he pounds into you, his eyes locked on yours, full of possessive need. "All fuckin’ mine."

Your body responds to his words, tightening around him as your orgasm builds, every nerve in your body on fire. "Yes," you gasp, your voice barely more than a broken moan as he hits that perfect spot again and again. "Yours—only yours."

Slowly, deliberately, you bring your hand to your mouth, biting down on the pad of your thumb hard enough to draw a thin line of blood.

The scent of iron fills the space between you, mixing with the musk of sex and sweat. Logan’s nostrils flare as he takes in the scent, his pupils dilating further, and you feel his cock twitch inside of you.

You raise your thumb to his mouth, sliding it along his bottom lip to leave behind a thin trail of red. “Suck,” you whisper softly, pressing your thumb into his mouth ever so slightly. 

And he does, without hesitation. 

Logan’s lips part, and he pulls your thumb into his mouth, his tongue swirling around the taste of your blood. The look in his eyes as he does sends a wave of heat crashing through you.

The pure devotion of the act thickening the air around you to coil the spring of pleasure winding in your lower stomach tighter.

You groan, your own restraint folding like a house of cards as you drag your nose down the column of his throat, stopping right at the base. You press a quick kiss over the rapid fluttering of his pulse before you bite down, hard.

Logan keens around your thumb, teeth digging into your skin roughly as his blood floods your mouth. 

You get lost in it, the familiar taste of him seeping onto your tongue as his cock jerks and pulses in your clenching cunt. Getting lost in the way you can feel the rhythm of his heart against your lips, each strong beat sending more blood pumping out to leak along your taste buds.

You press your chest to his, not leaving an inch of space between you. It’s still not enough, it will never be enough.

You need more, so much more.

You want to encompass him completely, to be encompassed by him.

You want to dig your hands into his skin–to peel back each layer of flesh and fat and muscle, snap each of his ribs back so you can bury yourself in the cavity of his chest before you bend them back into place. Burrowing yourself deep enough inside him to watch him heal all around you, to watch his skin stitch itself back together.

It’s a sick feeling, the need to take and take until he has no more left to give. Sick and all consuming, lighting you up like the raging flames of a forest fire that destroys everything in its path. 

When you finally pull your hand away from his mouth, he lets out a breathless moan, and you lean down to press your lips against his in a bruising kiss.

The coppery tang of your blood lingers between you, mixing with Logan’s as your teeth clash together violently, as you devour him, pouring every ounce of your control into the kiss.

You press your palm to his chest, powers surging to life over his heart. You don't need to open your eyes to see what you leave behind, the red and blue pulse of his blood lighting up beneath his skin like the neon sign hanging outside his favorite bar.

Logan moans into your mouth, tongue dragging along the point of your canines. "Don't stop," he pleads, “Please, baby, don’t fuckin’ stop.”

You can feel the energy coursing between you, a tangible thing that's threading itself between your fingers. It’s intoxicating, a connection deeper than flesh, a binding of souls fueled by blood and lust. You lean into the heat radiating from him, urging your energy to flow freely, wrapping it around his heart like a warm embrace.

“Logan,” you whisper breathily, breaking the kiss just enough to look into his wild, pleading eyes. “You feel that? You and me, we’re connected.”

“I feel it, honey,” he groans, bucking his hips, forcing you to take him deeper. “You’re everywhere. It’s all I can think about all the goddamn time, drives me fuckin’ crazy.” His words tumble from his lips, raw and unfiltered, sending another thrill of desire through you.

You whine, head tipping back to the ceiling. Drunk of the feeling of him, of his cock, of his blood on your teeth.

You've come to think that being in bed with Logan is like being in church.

There's a holiness to the way he holds you—like you’re the only thing worth believing in.

The familiar weight of his body pressing you into the mattress is the alter. The heat of him like laying in the burning flame of a candle. The strong planes of his muscles each a different scripture that you take in by touch alone, skating your hands over his skin with something close to worship.

Each bead of sweat on his skin feels sacred, a testament to the intensity between you, as though every part of him has been crafted for this moment of devotion.

The hard length of his cock carves a place for itself inside you, each heavy smack of his hips punching another desperate sound out of your slack lips. 

His breath, deep and ragged, is a chant that pulls you into reverence. It puffs against the wild beat of your pulse, his lips brushing over the fever hot plane of your skin. 

The sound of your name falling from his mouth sounds like a prayer answered.

You can’t help but close your eyes, not in exhaustion, but in a kind of spiritual surrender, like by shutting out the world, you can truly grasp the divinity of it. His blood, mixing with yours on your tongue feels like a sacrament—an unholy communion.

The air between you crackles with heat, your bodies moving together in perfect sync, each thrust driving you closer to the edge. Logan’s head tilts back, his mouth open in a silent scream as he claws at your hips, pulling you down harder, deeper.

“I’m close,” he groans, his voice strained, desperate. “Please—fuck—I need to—”

You reach up quickly, grabbing his jaw and forcing him to look at you. “Look at me when you fuck me,” you demand, your voice sharp, dripping with authority. “I want you to watch me when you come.”

That’s all it takes.

 Logan’s entire body goes taut, a strangled roar tearing from his throat as he buries himself inside you one last time, the force of his release crashing through him. The hot spray of his come floods your insides, drenching your walls in thick spurts of white. 

His hands grip you so tightly you’re sure there’ll be bruises blooming later, but you don’t care. You wish they wouldn’t fade. You want them. You want to wear his mark, to feel the evidence of this moment lingering on your skin long after it’s over.

His hips don’t stop even as he comes, a sharp cry ripping its way from his throat as he keeps fucking you, pumping you full of him like he can’t stop. 

When you feel him start to lose control like that, feel the frantic twitch of his cock inside you, you finally let go, your orgasm crashing over you like a tidal wave. The force of it rips a scream from your throat as you clench around him, your body spasming with the intensity of it.

Your abused cunt gushes around his cock to seep into the mattress, soaking both the sheets and his lower body all at once as you let out a weak mutter of his name.

For a moment, the only sound in the room is the ragged, uneven breathing between you as you both come down from the high. Logan collapses on the bed, arms circling your waist to drag you along with him. His cock stays inside of you, plugging you full of his come.

Your body trembles with the aftershocks of your orgasm, chest heaving as you try to catch your breath. 

Logan is warm and grounding under you, soft and lax. You can feel his heartbeat, strong and steady beneath your cheek, and you press a soft kiss to the skin there, a silent reminder.

His hand comes up to thread through your hair, his touch gentle now, his body relaxed in a way that it wasn’t before.

“I love you,” he whispers against the crown of your head, his voice soft, vulnerable in a way that makes your heartache.

You smile, soft and secretive in the valley of his pecs, “I love you too.”

It’s a quiet admission, the first time you’ve ever said that to each other with words. The first time you both felt the need to, because it’s nothing you didn’t already know.

Your blood dripping from his teeth lays the same claim over you as his come dripping down your thighs.

It means you're his, and he’s yours.

tags are now in the comments! if you want to get tagged for any of my works just fill out this form!

[sincerelyyuu]

"in the end, it's still you." p3. • gojo satoru & geto suguru

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ synopsis: after you made your decision to leave your jujutsu sorcerer life behind, you find yourself longing for what once was and risking more than what you bargained for. ➼ pairing: gojo satoru x fem!reader, geto suguru x fem!reader ➼ content/warnings: sfw, endless amounts of angst, sprinkles of fluff, heavy jujutsu kaisen 0 film spoilers, heartbreak, regret, unrequited love, death, blood, pet names, sorcerer!reader ➼ wc: 5.4K words ➼ a/n: this is the final part of this little angst series of mine. thank you so much to everyone for the amount of love you've given these three. as always, likes and reblogs are appreciated ♡ ➼ part one, part two, part three

Today was the day.  Suguru had coined it as the Night Parade of a Hundred Demons where he intended on releasing thousands of curses across Japan, focusing the epicenters of the attack in Shinjuku and Kyoto.

To say that your life had drastically changed over the last few years would be an understatement. Finding refuge in a grand temple located far away from the eyes of Tokyo, Suguru built himself a cult following. He spent his days collecting money from his loyal followers while also exorcising curses from non-sorcerers who sought him out, deeming him as a god for his “cleansing” talents.

Within this time, your days were simpler. Instead of waking up to the dread of having to fight curse after curse, you spent your time focusing on the little things that brought you joy. You started a little garden that was lush with a variety of flowers and greenery. Thanks to the seclusion of your new home, it made stargazing look something straight out of a fantasy, the night sky always twinkling with millions of stars. With all the extra time, you had many opportunities to curl up with a good book without having to worry about another mission.

Since that fateful night in the village, Nanako and Mimiko became attached to your hip. You became the mother figure they’ve always dreamt of. You loved the girls like your own, spending the majority of your time nurturing them from toddlerhood into the beautiful teens they were now. You were living the simple life you envisioned back in your teen years. 

You knew when you left your old life behind that life would be different. Change was inevitable. You just didn’t expect for it to manifest in the man you ran away with.

Suguru took care of you exceptionally well. He made sure you were well fed and gifted you with the prettiest clothes, occasionally leaving small tokens of appreciation for you for embarking on this journey with him. Whatever you heart desired, it was in your hands no sooner than you can think of it. More importantly, no matter how busy he was, he always found time to keep you company. You, as well as the twins, remained his main priority. His beautiful girls.

You watched Suguru slowly become consumed with the idea of jujutsu sorcerers being the superior race. On the outside, he put up an amiable persona in front of normal humans who came to him for guidance in order to collect their curses. On the inside, he loathed their very existence, finding their presence alone to be unbearable and swearing they filled the air surrounding him with a disgusting stench. 

Monkeys, he would call them. You hated the term. 

He had come to you in the kitchen one day with the biggest grin on his face. It was the happiest you’ve ever seen him in your entire time of knowing him. Pouring yourself a glass of water from the faucet, you leaned your back against the edge of the sink in interest.

“The time has finally come!” he proclaimed as he walked up to you, hands behind his head in a relaxed manner.

“Oh?” you raised an eyebrow at him in curiosity. “And what time may that be?”

“My sources tell me that there is an interesting first year student by the name of Okkotsu Yuta at Tokyo High. He is cursed by a special grade spirit by the name of Orimoto Rika,” Suguru goes on to explain.

You felt an unsettling feeling in your stomach, not liking where this conversation was going. You hummed in response and raised the glass to your lips which he took as his cue to go on.

“I plan on retrieving her. The power she holds is the exact thing we need to put an end to every non-sorcerer in existence,” he sighed happily at what he believed was the light at the end of the tunnel.

Frowning, you replied, “...And how exactly do you plan to do that, Sugu?”

“By killing anyone that gets in my way starting with Tokyo Jujutsu High.”

The glass of water immediately slipped from your hands, seconds away from shattering onto the floor if not for Suguru’s incredible reflexes. Placing the still full cup on the counter, he observed the immense shock displayed in your eyes at his declaration. You wished that he was just pulling your leg and that he wasn’t really considering taking on such a risky and incredibly dangerous task. But a man of his word, you knew better than anyone that when Suguru said anything, he truly meant it.

“Geto Suguru,” his name leaving your lips in a slow drawl, “What in the actual fuck are you talking about?”

Leaning against the counter next to you, he crossed his arms and closed his eyes in thought. “It’s simple really. I will unleash the thousands of curses that I’ve meticulously collected over this past decade into the city. Two cities, in fact. While they send their forces to try and save as many pathetic monkeys as they can, I’ll go after the Okkotsu boy. If he decides not to join our side, that’s fine. I’ll just kill him for Rika instead.”

The more you listened to him explain in detail his plan, the more you found yourself looking at a complete stranger. This couldn’t possibly be the kind Suguru that you’ve known throughout your teens and entire twenties. 

Had you really known him at all?

The incredulous look of concern and flash of fear across your face must have been hard to take in because Suguru’s demeanor immediately took on a more serious stance. 

“(y/n),” he started to say your name and reached for your hand. This time, it was his turn to be shocked when you immediately yanked your hand away from his as if his touch burned you. 

“Don’t,” you demand, taking a step away from him as you felt your blood begin to boil. “What the hell, Suguru?”

The man sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose at your hostile reaction, “I had a feeling you’d react like this.”

You scoffed at his reply, “Did you honestly expect for me to just be peachy about this idea? You’re talking about murdering millions of people! This isn’t what I agreed to when I decided to go on the run with you.”

“I was very upfront with you about my goals. I don’t know why you’re acting like this is something new,” Suguru argued, not liking the tone of your voice. “You made the big girl decision to come with me. Don’t tell me you’re regretting it now?”

You clenched your jaw at his audacity. “You didn’t give me a choice! I’m not the one who decided to go on a murderous killing spree at seventeen on a mission we were both assigned to,” you retorted in exasperation.

“But I stayed with you because I care about you, Suguru. If I didn’t, why would I leave my entire life behind to be here with you now?” you asked, feeling the anger in your veins shift to deep hurt. “You forget that I sacrificed a lot, too. Excuse me if I don’t agree with every choice you make along the way, especially this one.”

Running his hand through his dark locks, Suguru exhaled deeply. He rarely fought with you and he hated every minute you were anything less than happy with him. He angled his body to face you once more and placed his strong hands on your shoulders. When you didn’t instantly pull away from him, he tugged you closer to him and wrapped his arms around your shoulders.

“I’m sorry. I didn't forget how much you’ve sacrificed to be with me and I’m eternally grateful every day I see your face. I know this situation hasn’t been completely fair for you and I only have myself to blame for that,” he apologized sincerely.

“That being said, I’ve made my final decision. I won’t ask you to fight on the front lines nor do I expect you to do anything you don’t want to. You can stay here without needing to get involved or lift a finger. The decision is yours.”

Back to the present, you couldn’t shake the premonition that something really bad was going to happen. Your anxiety in your heart refused to dissipate with the uncertainty of what's to come looming over you. You hated this. You hated how this is what it all came down to. 

You made it clear to Suguru that you weren’t going to take any innocent lives. However, you refused to sit still and play the waiting game while everyone was out fighting for their lives. Naturally, you set your heart on protecting your girls.

“Nanako, Mimiko,” you said to your phone via video chat, “Are you girls doing okay?”

“Everything is good so far, (y/n)-sama,” Nanako replied back and adjusted her phone so that she and her sister fit into one frame. “Where are you? Geto-sama said you’d be here.”

You responded, “I’m here. Just standing out of sight but still keeping an eye on you.”

Standing atop of some miscellaneous office building, you observed the large curse that housed the twins safely inside its mouth. You focused on manipulating your cursed energy to lower it to extreme minute levels in order to hide your presence, blending it with the large amount of cursed energy permeating in the air. Doing so made it difficult to pinpoint your exact location. 

“How come you aren’t here directly with us?” Mimiko questioned, feeling slightly anxious but relieved to see your face even if it was through a screen.

You paused, taking a few seconds to think before answering carefully, “It’s complicated.”

How do you exactly tell them that the reason you were hiding to begin with was because you were hiding from the man of the hour?

Gojo Satoru.

You would be lying if you said a part of you didn’t long to see him. You did everything in your power to cut all ties with the strongest sorcerer a decade ago, although it hurt more than anything. You didn’t know if you could ever face him again, especially not now considering the circumstances with Suguru’s plot. 

Did he even want to see you?

A pair of sweet voices called out to you and snapped you out of your thoughts. Looking back at your phone, you saw the looks of anticipation on the twins’ faces.

“Sorry, what did you girls say?” you sheepishly asked.

Nanako pouted adorably, repeating their question, “We asked if we could go to that crepe shop on Takeshita Street with you. Geto-sama promised he’d take us last time but it was closed by the time we got there.”

Chuckling, you nodded to their request. “Of course. When this is all over, we’ll take a girls trip together.”

“Promise?” they said in unison, holding their pinkies up to the screen.

You held your own pinky up and lightly tapped it against your phone. “I promise.”

On the other end, you heard Nanako’s notification sound go off. “They said they’re stepping up the plan and telling us to engage,” she informed you.

Biting your lip in apprehension, you sighed. “Please be careful, you two. Do not hesitate to call me immediately if something happens. Do you understand? I'll catch up with you in a few.”

The pair nodded, holding up their pinkies for emphasis promising you of their safety. Just as you were about to hang up the call, their soft voices caught your ears.

“(y/n)-sama?”

“Yes, my loves?” you answered with concern in your eyes watching them fidget nervously.

“I love you.”

You felt your heart squeeze at the declaration, warmth spreading in your chest as you smiled fondly at the two. They looked at you shyly with pink cheeks looking slightly embarrassed after voicing their affection together. When did they grow up so fast from the little five year olds they once were when you first met them?

“I love you, too. Both of you. See you soon,” you reciprocated, blowing a kiss to the camera.

The twins mirrored the gesture before hanging up. Focusing your eyes back to the curse they were inside, its mouth opened to reveal your precious girls. You waved goodbye to them despite them not being able to see you. Just as you were about to trail them, that unsettling feeling increased tenfold in your stomach. Something was wrong. 

Suguru.

You dialed his number on your phone, pressing it to your ear only for the call to go straight to voicemail. This only made your anxiety worse. He never missed a call from you. Wracking your brain on where he could be, his previous words echoed in your mind.

“I’ll go after the Okkotsu boy. If he decides not to join our side, that’s fine. I’ll just kill him for Rika instead.”

Cursing under your breath, your legs began moving on their own.

Run faster.

You repeated the two words in your head like a mantra as you weaved through alleyways and every shortcut you could remember. Your lungs burned with the intensity of it demanding oxygen, but you refused to slow down the pace of your sprint. You were determined to make it back to Tokyo Jujutsu High.

You had to make it to Suguru.

Scanning the black veil that you knew Suguru had casted over the school, you managed to locate a hole that was made by something, or rather someone, else. Slipping through the opening, you finally stepped foot onto the grounds that you once called your home. You hurriedly followed the trails of blood and wreckage of what looked to be the after effects of a lethal fight. 

You nearly collapsed as you felt the ground quake beneath your feet, the force of it catching you off guard. The air felt electrified with the sheer amount of cursed energy surrounding you. It terrified you. Despite your fear, you steeled yourself and ran towards where you felt the cursed energy was strongest. 

Careening around another corner, you were relieved to see the backside of the man you were searching for. However, your relief was short-lived when you looked just beyond his figure down the path to see a young teenage boy. 

There was no mistaking him as Okkotsu Yuta with his special grade curse Rika suspended beside him protectively and looking every bit as deadly as you heard. He was exchanging words with her that you couldn’t hear from where you stood. You saw the way Yuta  intimately held her monstrous frame close to his face. The interaction was so full of tenderness and devotion, the kind that would risk it all in the name of love.

But that’s when you realized what was happening. He was sacrificing himself to Rika to release the limit on her cursed energy.

Hearing Rika passionately declare her love for Yuta, you looked in horror as she began gathering all of her raw cursed energy in full force. Flashes of purple and pink coalesced into one massive deadly black orb, a symbol of Rika’s eternal love for him.

And it was aimed directly at Suguru.

“SUGURU!”

You didn’t even hear yourself scream for him, your voice coming out in terror-stricken screech. It was like your body went into overdrive. In your moment of panic, you didn’t have time to think or feel, only running towards him with your heart beating loudly in your ears. 

For Suguru, it all happened so quickly. 

The moment he heard your voice, he whipped his head to you with eyes widened in alarm. You weren’t supposed to be here. He needed to figure out a way to get you as far away as possible from Rika. 

Time almost stopped for the next few seconds.

There was a flash and a strong hand that shoved Suguru’s body back from where he was positioned. A waft of a familiar perfume. The feeling of soft tresses tickling his cheek. A blinding blue glow. He realized too late that it was you moving at an supersonic speed to stand in front of him, safeguarding him as you channeled all of your cursed energy to brace and harden your body for impact.

Then, Rika charged.

Destruction. Suguru’s curses were no match to the power of Rika’s concentrated cursed energy beam. Her attack left devastation in its wake, buildings blown down to their bare infrastructures, dust and debris clouding the pinkened sky, and a deep crater of the battlefield permanently indented into the ground.

For a moment, all you felt was searing pain enveloping your body. You didn’t even register the way Suguru seized you by the waist, jerking you away as he made a narrow escape with you just a second away from death’s door. Your vision faded to black as you closed your eyes.

When you next opened your eyes, the first thing you saw was the back of Suguru’s head. He was carrying you on his back, your arms around his neck and your body swaying in small jerky motions as he limped down the pathway with growing difficulty.

Good. He had made it, you thought to yourself in ease.

‘Made it’ was an understatement. The man was officially missing his entire right arm, the same arm he used to safely pull you away from Rika. Long black hair haphazardly let down, black yukata torn in half to reveal his bare toned torso, right eye swollen shut. He was lucky to have gotten away with just this. 

He was only this lucky because of you. You had taken Rika’s attack head on. Even with you using your cursed energy as a shield, it wasn’t enough to stop the negative repercussions. Your injuries were severe. The strength of Rika’s blow left a gaping hole in the center of your chest a hair’s away from your heart, feeling sharp pains with every shallow breath you took. You could feel yourself bleeding out onto Suguru’s back, soaking his robe with crimson. Unable to feel any sensations in your legs, you suspected you were paralyzed from the waist down. 

“Suguru,” your raspy voice croaked out.

“You finally opened those eyes, pretty girl. You had me worried for a moment there,” Suguru chuckled quietly.

The two of you fell into a calm silence, only the sounds of Suguru’s footsteps and your ragged breathing to be heard. You wanted to ask him so many questions. Where did Yuta and Rika go? What happens now? No matter how hard you tried to focus on moving your mouth you simply couldn’t, not having the strength to do so. Suguru was the first to break the silence.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” he said tiredly. His haggard face looked absolutely spent with his voice coming out no louder than a murmur. Only loud enough just for you to hear the regret and guilt in his speech.

You chuckled weakly, “Can you really say you were surprised?”

Suguru sighed in defeat, “I suppose not. Although I would have preferred if you had stayed with our girls. Now look at you.”

“That’s not very ‘Thank you for saving my life’ of you, Sugu,” you huffed, gently pinching his cheek in retaliation causing him to laugh lightly.

You felt your heart swell seeing Suguru smile and banter with you so freely. It reminded you of your earlier days back in high school when it was just you, him, and Satoru.

Satoru.

As you leaned your head on Suguru’s good shoulder, your mind drifted to the snowy haired man. It always did. You often wondered if he had changed much since you last saw him. Was he still that confident man that would give his all for the world? The same man that would have burned the world for you? What would your life be like if you had decided to go back to him that day in Shinjuku? So many questions that you would never have answers for. You knew that when you left Satoru that day, you had left your heart with him too. 

If only you had the chance to tell him you loved him in person.

Feeling something rise in your chest, you were only able to squeeze Suguru’s shoulder in warning before you leaned to the side to vomit blood, the bodily fluid coming out in a viscous consistency. By the time you were done, you felt extremely weak. Your head felt fuzzy and the severe pain in your chest was beginning to subside the more you bled out. 

“I’m dying, Suguru.”

Suguru’s grip on you faltered for a quick second before hoisting you upright on his back once more. He already knew it. He knew you were dying by the faraway look in your eyes and the way you could barely keep them open. You were losing too much blood too quickly. He had exhausted his cursed energy supply on Rika, only having the physical energy to carry you through pure willpower.

“Do you regret running away with me now?” he asks solemnly, slowing his pace down to not rock you too much.

You shook your head, “I don’t. I promised you that I would be there for you until the end.”

“Thank you for keeping your promise,” he expressed genuinely.

When you didn’t say anything else, he turned his head slightly to see you with your eyes closed. He momentarily panicked before he was consoled by the rise and fall of your back that indicated you were still here.

“(y/n)?” he calls, looking straight ahead and walking with no real destination in mind. You hummed in response to let him know you were listening.

“I love you.”

Despite living the last ten years of his life with you, this was the first time he had verbally expressed those three words to you, opting to show his affections for you through actions. But in your dying moments, he needed you to hear just how much he loved you, even if he knew you would never say them back the same way he meant it.

“I know. I always knew,” You smiled guiltily. “I do love you, Suguru. You’re always going to be my best friend. I’m so sorry. I’m sorry I couldn’t reciprocate your feelings no matter how hard I tried.”

Suguru nudged his head against yours in a comforting manner. He whispered, “It’s okay. I still love you regardless.”

Feeling exhaustion settle in your bones, you could barely fight the growing heaviness of your eye lids and a sense of calm lulling your senses. Resting your chin on Suguru’s shoulder, he felt your faint breath fan against his neck.

“Sugu,” the nickname sounding so painfully loving on your lips, “I’m sleepy.”

Suguru couldn’t bring himself to watch you die, staring straight ahead so you wouldn’t see the tears pooling in his eyes.

“Sleep, baby. I got you.”

With that, your eyes closed as you took your last breath, your arms around his neck slipping to fall at his sides.

Trudging down the narrow alleyway, Suguru shifted your frame to his front in order to rest your head against his hard chest. Your body was still warm as Suguru held you tighter against him, albeit a bit awkwardly considering the effects of the battle left him with only one arm. You looked so peaceful. If anyone didn’t know any better, they would have assumed you were just in a deep sleep. Only, you were forever in a dream that you would never wake up from. 

Suguru felt like a failure. Despite his elaborate plan, he was unsuccessful in securing the special grade curse Rika from Okkotsu Yuta. Experiencing her power first hand, she was truly extraordinary. If he had gotten her, there would be no need to sneak around swallowing curses. He would have had the power to change the world like he wanted.

You wouldn’t have had to die for him.

If only he had a little more time. Hearing footsteps approaching him, Suguru smiled at the familiar presence. With great effort, Suguru carefully lowered you and himself against the wall and held you close.

“You’re late, Satoru,” he announced, his words devoid of any real malice. “To think you’d be the one here at my end. Is my family safe?

“Every last one of them managed to escape,” the special grade sorcerer replied in monotone.

Except you. Satoru took in your lifeless form that was brutally beaten and bloodied by what he assumed was the aftermath of Rika. Your hair was longer than when he last saw you in Shinjuku ten years ago. Your delicate hands that used to hold onto his so dearly were now battered. Bruises adorned your face, crimson from your wounds beginning to dry against your skin.  Even after all these years of not seeing you, even in this state, you were still beautiful to him.

“Unlike you, I’m a kind man. You sent those two assuming I’d defeat them, didn’t you? To set Okkotsu off?” Suguru questioned the male, referring to the panda and cursed speech user.

Satoru answered, “I trusted that a man as principled as you wouldn’t kill off young sorcerers without a reason.”

Suguru tiredly smiled at his words. “Trust, huh? I didn’t think I still had any of that left.”

Gaze hardening, Satoru coldly responded, “I also trusted you to keep her safe.”

He knew he was being hypocritical. He spent years trying to seek you out and to bring you home. Once he did, he even considered quitting the sorcerer life to give you the normal life you wanted. Yet you didn’t want to be found and made it incredibly difficult to track you (and naturally Suguru.) The fact you survived this far to begin with was with Suguru’s help, which is more than what he had done. At least Suguru was able to give you some form of happiness. Although he never gave up looking for you, Satoru knew he should have done more to protect you. 

And now he has to live with the fact that he couldn’t bring you back home anymore.

“It was always you, you know that?”

Tearing his eyes away from your lifeless form, Satoru wordlessly looked at his best friend who had a ghost of a smile on his lips.

“All of these years away, there wasn’t a day that she didn’t think about you. No matter how hard I tried to get her to reciprocate my love, to open her heart to me, her heart was always set on you,” Suguru admitted bittersweetly.

Satoru could only stand there stunned at the revelation. If Suguru was telling the truth, had you always loved him the way he loved you? Flashbacks of you played back in his mind like an old movie. 

The way you would tenderly treat his wounds after he went a little too hard after a mission…

“I swear to god, Toru, you better not come back looking like this again,” you sighed, lightly dabbing the soaked cotton ball of antibiotic on the small gash on his forehead.

“You mean looking this good~?” he smirks, flexing his bicep proudly. Only for his bottom lip to jut out into a pout at the way you playfully roll your eyes at him, not exactly denying his words but also not wanting to feed that big ego of his.

Turning around to grab a clean bandage for his wound, he misses the way a light pink hue blooms across your cheeks.

…making him a bento box of his favorite foods after scolding him for skipping meals…

“Oh?” Satoru chirps, “What do we have here?”

He watched you unravel the prettily wrapped package to reveal the lunch you had prepared for him. Based on the smell alone, he knew you had made his favorite. “A little birdie told me you skipped breakfast this morning,” you sighed.

“Did this birdie happen to be a six foot three tall man with a man bun? What a snitch,” he sighed dramatically.

Tsking, you pushed the bento closer to him. “Don’t be mean. Eat before the food gets cold or else the last hour and a half of me cooking would go to waste.”

Didn’t you just come back from a mission this morning? The thought crossed his mind as he considered how tired you must be but still mustered the energy to cook for him. The delusional side of him imagined if this was what it would be like if you were his pretty little wife.

Grinning, he takes a bite of the food and savors the delicious flavor that hits his taste buds. “Thank you, sweets.”

…and leaving little cute messages in his notebooks to read during class.

Hearing his sensei drone on about something related to cursed energy, Satoru leaned back in his chair with his head tilted back in a silent groan. He swore this boring class had a higher chance of killing him than dealing with a special grade curse. Feeling someone kick his shoe from under his desk, Satoru looked over next to him to see Suguru giving him a disapproving look, gesturing with a nod to the sensei to pay attention. Satoru merely stuck his tongue out at him causing his best friend to roll his eyes. To be fair, he was equally as bored but someone had to pay attention to take notes, right?

Leaning on his hand, he aimlessly flicked through the pages of his notebook, the pages mostly bare since he rarely took notes. Satoru’s interest quirked when his eyes landed on an adorable doodle of a kitty cat wearing black round glasses much like the ones he wore. Beside it was a little speech bubble written in your handwriting that said, “You got this, Toru! I’ll always be here to support you ^o^.”

Chuckling, Satoru turned his head to find you sitting a few desks away from him. Unlike him, you were completely engrossed in the lesson and taking notes like the good student you were. You had your hair tucked behind your ear as you gnawed on your lower lip in concentration. All Satoru could think was… ‘pretty.’

Feeling eyes on the back of your head, you scanned your surroundings before making direct eye contact with Satoru. Despite being caught red handed staring at you, Satoru shot you a flirty wink, snickering at the way you gaped at him in shock. He made a gesture of him pretending to be on the verge of falling asleep, feeling his heart palpitate at the way you couldn’t help but giggle at him.

The next class, he found another doodle in his notebook of that same little Gojo kitty along with the words, “All eyes up front instead of me, Mr. Gojo >.<.”

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. How could he have been so blind? 

Or, maybe, he did see all of the signs. Perhaps he chose to actively ignore them because he knew getting involved with you would only put you in danger. He was okay with admiring you from a distance if it meant keeping you safe.

But if he knew things would end up this way, he wished he spent all this time telling you he loved you instead.

“Do you have any last words?” Satoru offered, feeling his heart aching at what was next to come.

Looking to the sky in resignation, a peaceful look graced Suguru’s face. “I never held any hatred for those in Jujutsu High. I just couldn’t wear a heartfelt smile in this world.”

“But she made it worthwhile,” he continued, his voice lowering in remorse as he studied your tranquil face, ingraining every little detail that he loved about you in his mind. “I don’t regret taking her with me. My only regret is not being able to give her the life she deserved.”

Suguru cradled your face in his hand and leaned down to kiss your forehead tenderly, his lips lingering on your skin for the last time. He didn’t react when he heard heavy footsteps draw near.

Satoru brought himself closer to the two people he cherished most in his life. Crouching down so that he was eye level, he reached out to brush the hair away from your lids, wishing so desperately for you to open them so that he could look into those eyes that he first fell in love with. Just as Suguru did, he pressed his lips to your temple, feeling a tear slip from his eye.

Goodbye, my sweet girl. To the only girl I will ever love.

🏷️: @urcutetozier @sad-darksoul @alisoncdariel @paprikaquinn @jjk174 divider credit: @/saradika-graphics

[abbeym28]

Clarisse La Rue - Between the Breaths

Clarisse x gn! reader

An- Over 3.4k on this one!!! It didn't really take me that long to write it either! Thank you for all of the notes on I'm Your Man, it means a lot to me! Also, if anyone has request for any Clarisse or Luke fanfics, I would be happy to hear them even though I have no clue on how to do requests lol

Warnings- Training, weapons, somewhat gruesome part but really at all, Clarisse being friends with most of the Aphrodite cabin, reader can be from any cabin!! Pls let me know if I missed something!!

Clarisse La Rue had been at Camp Half blood for awhile, and it's safe to say that she has seen a lot of things. Good things, pretty things, but also gruesome things, things that would break a normal person if they weren't strong.

But she was strong.

Just not as much when it comes to you.

You, who the moon and sun seemed to shine on in a whole different light then it did on the rest of camp. You, whose kindness had reached almost every demigod, each of which likes you in their own way for their own reason. You, who was the most beautiful person Clarisse has ever seen.

Except she couldn't ever get too close to you, or have a conversation with you that was long, for she was Clarisse La Rue, child of Ares, the favorite daughter of a man who didn’t like his kids. And you, you were just too good for her. But she would never let a crush like this weigh on her the way it had started to, so she found a good way to regulate it all.

It was fighting, of course.

She let out a battle cry as she stabbed her spear into the ground, getting annoyed at how the other camper had rolled out of the way instead of letting her stab them. Sounds of other kids also fighting in the training ground filled her ears and she could distantly pick up the smell of food. She could thank the instincts she got from her god-parent as she went in for another attack (this time one that would actually hit), but a yell stopped her before she could go through with it.

“Hey! Anyone who wants a snack can take one!” Luke Castellan stood off to the side with his arms crossed, and standing right next to him holding a tray, was you.

Younger campers ran over to the two of you, while older ones opted to walk or to pick up dangerous weapons that had been discounted to the ground.

Clarisse scoffed and began to walk the other way, clenching her gifted spear tightly in her hand. She was stomping down the path through the forest that led to her special spot, her favorite tree, but the sound of running footsteps from behind her made her slow down and lighten her steps.

She twirled around, spear at the ready to go through a neck, but it was your neck in which the spear was now pointed at. And, surprise surprise, your neck was attached to the rest of your body.

The back of her neck and the tips of her ears began to feel hot, the type of burning she swore she could only feel whenever she entered the Hephaestus cabin to complain about her faulty armor. Or whenever she was close to you at the bonfire nights. She lowered her spear a bit and her stance faltered.

“Oh, um, I was just.... Is this a bad time?”

“No, it’s not.” She dropped the spear from the attack mode and turned around, continuing down the path. You followed after her, balancing the last few snacks still on the tray you were holding as you awkwardly stepped over tree trunks and discarded branches.

“Well, I was just wondering if you wanted anything to eat, considering that you're, like, the most hard working person in training and stuff. You definitely need substances so you can keep your muscles. ” Wow, you definitely knew exactly how and what to say to a kid of Ares.

“I don’t need a snack from you.” Gods, she hoped you picked up more on the sarcasm and not the accidental longing that had slipped out.

“Clarisse-” -she almost melted with how you had said her name- “-You were training really hard for a pretty long time. You should- you need to eat something!”

“I don’t need to do anything that you or anyone else tells me to!” She whirled around, getting very close to you as you halted, but taking a few steps back as a precaution. She glared at you, and you could feel her heavy breaths on your neck. You were looking down on her thanks to the hill, but despite that she was still pretty intimidating.

And just pretty.

Her eyes flickered to the snacks, and then they flickered back up to meet yours.

“If I take one, can you leave?” You brightened at her question.

“Of course!” She hesitantly took one, and before she turned around, you could have sworn that you heard her whisper a “Thank you, angel.” Your cheeks felt strangely warm as you made your way back to camp.

Throwing down another broken dagger, Clarisse groaned. The dummy she had destroyed was laying in shreds on the ground in front of her, and she was beginning to feel bad for whoever would have to stitch it back up. Someone began to clap behind her and her eye twitched.

“I think you got ‘em!” Selena Beauregard, daughter of Aphrodite, called from the sidelines.

“What do you want?” Clarisse called back, grabbing another dagger from the closest weapons rack near her. Silena watched as she twirled it around a few times.

“I’m here to ask you about something.” there was a strange sly smirk that situated on Silena’s face, that no matter what reputation the Aphrodite kid was, other campers knew that was the universal sign to run away.

Clarisse sighed and crossed her arms, the dagger she was holding pointing to the ground. She quirked her eyebrow as a way to say “go ahead”.

“We know you have a crush.” All of the sudden, at least six other kids that Clarisse could recognize as from the Aphrodite cabin jumped out of the bushes and came rushing towards Clarisse.

That was how she died.

Okay, so she definitely didn’t die, but dying was definitely better than being forced onto a pink chair inside the even pinker walls of the goddess of love's cabin.

Could’ve Clarisse fought of all of them and then report them to Chiron? Yes. But she just really didn't feel up to using that much energy on a bunch of perfect haired people. And besides, the amount of strength they had did impress her, so she was going to give it to them just this once.

A twelve year old girl was holding onto her right hand, delicately and perfectly brushing on a coat of black nail polish onto her freshly buffed nails.

Clarisse tried to pay attention to everything that the girl was doing, but the distracting amount of sets of eyes on her made it hard to do so. Even so, this was the first time someone had ever painted her nails for her.

“Got the ice cream!” Mitchell, one of the only sons of the love goddess came through the cabin doors, and he was met with cheers from every magenta cabin corner.

It took a minute or two until a bowl was eventually passed to Clarisse, but it was snatched away by the girl doing her nails. She wrinkled her nose at her, and the girl stuck out her tongue as response.

“So,” Silena started off, pausing to take a bite of the ice cream. “Want to talk about it?”

“I don’t know what your talking about.” Clarisse stayed stubborn, but she most definitely knew what she was talking about.

“Girl, we see how you get whenever they are around. Do you for real think that we are all stupid?” Another voice piped in from a random bunk bed to Clarisse’s left.

“Who?” She paid hyper attention to how the girl had finished working on her ring finger and was now moving onto her middle one. Shouts of your name rang out under the tall ceiling and Clarisse immediately tensed up.

“I do not have a crush on them.” She scoffed, but everyone else noticed the shakiness in her voice and they all exchanged knowing glances and smiles.

“You soooooo do! And that's why we’re helping you!” Voices of agreement chimed in with their two senses.

“We see how you look at them!”

“Yeah, and there's, like, a certain tension that comes around whenever you guys pass by each other! It’s soooo cute!”

“With our help, there's gonna be no way that they aren't in love with you!” Clarisse glared at the direction the voice came from.

“You don’t think they aren't already in love with me?” It didn’t seem to far of base, since Clarisse herself didn’t believe you were, or that you would ever be. But hearing a bunch of Aphrodite kids practically admit to it hit a bit different.

“I think they like you.” Silena said. Some other kids quickly agreed.

“They get pretty nervous when you're around, and they seek you out whenever there's gatherings. Even when they don’t go up to you, they get more relaxed whenever they see you.” A girl, no older than eight, spoke up from a lower bunk. She was laying her stomach and coloring on a piece of paper while kicking her feat. Everyone turned towards her, questions in the air. The girl looked up and shrugged. “We make paper stars together.” And then she went back to doodling.

Clarisse chuckled. She was not going to underestimate an Aphrodite kid again.

Then, there was a knock on the door. You poked your head through the cracked open door and smiled at everyone.

“Hey, I was just wondering if- Clarisse!” You got more fidgety once you had noticed Clarisse in the chair.

She jumped up and rushed past you and out of the cabin. Shouts of “hey!” rang out from behind her, the most prominent one coming from the girl who was working on her nails.

The next morning while getting breakfast, Clarisse could admit to herself that she was most definitely a fool.

With one hand of painted nails and the knowledge that she had run away from you, she would much rather stay in her fathers dedicated cabin and not anywhere where the kids from last night could find her.

She set her breakfast down at Ares’s assigned table, making sure that her manicure stayed unaffected. A flowery scent passed behind her, and a note was softly dropped onto the spot in front of her. Once she opened it, the note on the inside read : ”Try flexing at training today! ~ Silena + Aphrodite cabin” Followed by a winky and kissy face.

The last thing Clarisse wanted to do was make a fool of herself in front of more than just you and one cabin. She was for sure going to look stupid showing off the muscles she had gained over the years, but maybe she was always a fool after she caught you looking at her while she stretched.

Training seemed to go by fast that day, and by the end of it she was sweating hard under the sun's glare. She placed her spear down on a bench and sat on the ground, trying to catch her breath from all of the extra moving she had done.

“Clarisse!” Oh boy, she knew that voice. You jogged over to her, a water bottle and towel in your hands. She got up off of the ground, making sure to purposely move her arms in just the right way. While she couldn't say that she was an expert on your expressions, she could say that you looked almost breathless.

“Oh-um, these are for you.” She smiled at you and took the two things from you and in an instant gulped down almost half of the water. You tilted your head to the side a bit.

“Only one of your hands is painted?” She raised her eyebrow before realizing that you meant her nail polish.

“Oh, yeah. I… I don’t really like sitting down for that long.” You nodded your head.

“That makes sense. That happens to me a lot.”

“Sooo, I’ll see you later?” Her simple question seemed to make you brighten up, and you watched as she picked up her spear and moved to go in the direction back to camp. She looked over her shoulder and winked at you, all while making sure to hold her weapon in a way to bring attention to her biceps and back.

The fire in the pit got higher as Clarisse poked around in it to make sure that it would keep burning. You were across from her on the bench on the other side, talking to two of her brothers and sisters, and whenever she would catch a glimpse of you she would take it as a sign to add to the fire.

The way her siblings were getting close to you, and the way that you would laugh and allow them to touch your arm. It left a burning feeling in her heart, and a sinking feeling in her stomach.

She focused on running her fingers over the thick stick that was used to help the fire.

“Clarisse?” Gods, your voice saying her name had to be her most favorite thing about her life, and for her to just hear like, you must really have a tight hold on her- her eyes flickered up, and there you were, standing in front of her, fidgeting with something small in your hands. “I got some black nail polish from Silena, and I was- I was wondering if I could paint your other hand?”

Clarisse was taken aback. But still, she sat up straighter and moved over a bit. “Oh, yeah, sure.”

You excitedly sat next to her and reached over for her hand. She put her hand into yours, and it felt as if the fire had gotten hotter, and as if fireworks were going off over your heads.

She watched as you focused and delicately worked on her left hand. Your work wasn't as precise as the other girl had been, but for some reason she enjoyed this more, with how your hands would shake and a deep frown would mark your lips in that way that if Clarisse knew that you liked her as she liked you, she would lean over and kiss you until you couldn't even frown.

Clarisse La Rue was most definitely in love with you.

Over the next weeks, you and Clarisse had gotten closer, but never close enough.

Whenever she wanted to hold your hand, she opted to fix your sleeve or to situate her hand on the small of your back.

Whenever you wanted to grab her and then kiss her till you couldn’t breath, you opted to fix her armor.

But despite all of the things the two wanted, you continued to dance around each other in a way that even Luke was getting tired of. But things changed after Clarisse had that dream.

The sky was clear, and it was a perfect night to have a picnic on the beach. Clarisse had provided the blanket and the food, and all you had to do was show up and give her the attention that she had been craving while she was too busy.

Things were getting more dangerous around camp, monsters getting closer to the barrier and less new kids showing up for that reason.

Clarisse could fight monsters all day everyday, but it was these nice nights that allowed her to get back the drive to do so. She was close to convincing you to just spend the night sleeping with her in her cabin, not caring how many rules that could potentially break. But if she wouldn’t get that, then she would have to love this. It wasn’t a hard task, considering that anything that had to do with you was something that she would love.

She felt you snuggle in closer to her side, and her heart soared as her arm tightened around your waist.

“It’s pretty cold, isn’t it?” you whispered, and she could feel your breath against her neck.

“Yeah, but the moon looks beautiful, right?” She whispered back and you grinned.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.” She gently pulled off one of your arms that was around her to take your hand in hers, leading you into a simple type of slow dance waltz. She had never danced before, nor had she ever been taught, but she would do anything for you.

The two of you laughed gently, especially once one of you accidentally stepped on the other's foot. When it was nearing the early hour of one, she led you to sit back onto the blanket.

“I'm gonna find you a pearl.” She promised against your lips as you held her closely to yours. You brought her into a kiss, the best and most slow and sensual kiss she would probably ever experience. Once you drew away from her, you laughed a bit.

“Okay, good luck my love.” And so she bounded towards the water, wading in right at the spot she knew clams and oysters were.

Right when she was bending to pick one up, a scream peirced through the darkness.

Your scream.

You were yelling her name, and Clarisse dropped everything to try to make it to you faster. A cyclops had you in its grip and you were struggling greatly.

She wanted to shout that she had no weapon, and that you would have to use the power in which you had gotten from your godly parent.

But she didn’t shout, and she didn't move.

She just watched as you got eaten.

Clarisse woke up with a start, sweat clinging to what felt like every cell of her skin. She flipped off the blankets of her bed and jumped up.

Nobody else had woken up because of her yet, thank the gods. She wanted to see you, to take you in her arms and know that you were alright, and to tell you that she was sorry that she was so weak. But that wasn’t something she should do, and she knew that.

She sighed and sat pack onto her bed, running her hand down her face. There was no way she could be around you right now.

It was later that night in which you were finally able to track Clarisse down as she was sitting outside of her cabin.

“Clarisse, you skipped all of our meals together. Are you okay?” You were about to go sit next to her but she got up and began walking towards the forest.

You followed after her, speed walking to keep up. “Clarisse, wait! If something happens, we can talk- woah!” You were going down the path that you had followed her down so long ago, and while you weren't paying attention to where you were walking, you tripped over an arm of a tree that had fallen to the ground.

Clarisse whirled around and caught you before you could touch the ground, and you held onto her arms tightly to ground yourself.

“Wow it was a good thing you were there, Clarisse, or else-” but once you met her eyes, they looked watery. “Oh, honey, what happened?”

No tears had fallen, no matter how hard it looked as she was holding it all in. You reached out your hand and gently caressed along her cheek.

She then pulled you into a hug worthy of a bear, and while you couldn't hear her crying, you could feel the damp that had started to soak through the fabric of your shirt. She held you tight;y as you began to softly draw shapes onto her back, mostly hearts.

“I, I had a dream, and you died, and I love you, and I’m sorry I'm this weak and-”

”Shhh, shh, it's okay, hun. You are not weak at all, and you are justified in whatever you're feeling, okay? And… I love you too” You whispered the last part as she sniffled and pulled away from you a bit.

You looked into each other's eyes for a bit, and you found yourself falling into and appreciating her gorgeous brown eyes. She pulled you closer, and then she pulled you into a kiss.

Your arms moved to be around her neck as her hands that grip your hips loosened the more you both melted into each other. As you pulled away, doubt seemed to fall across her face.

“Are you sure you-” But before she could say anything more, you grabbed the front of her shirt to bring her into a second kiss, one that was just as good as the first one, if not better.

“I love you. And your muscles.” A grin broke across Clarisse’s face.

“I love you too.”

And then going in for a third kiss, she made a mental note to give thanks to the Aphrodite cabin kids. 

[mushies-stories]

involuntary experiment

Jonathan Crane X F!Reader

Summary: Scarecrow uses a new toxin on himself and the reader, a hero who decided to seek him out alone this time in hope of bringing him down. this is literrlly porn and some plot aha

Wanrings: SMUT 18+, no use of Y/N, dubcon, Drugged, Dom/sub dynamic if you squint, multiple orgasms, dacryphilia, pnv, unprotected sex, cream pie, oral(Mreceiving), fingering(Freceiving) pet names, over stimulation, No use of Y/N, over all soft Crane? Squirting, mild science experimentation, claiming? Kinda… I think that's it XD

word count: 4564

You had been after Scarecrow for a while now but his dumb little henchmen always seem to buy him just enough time to pull some kind of toxin out, forcing you to retreat or suffer in fear. So you figured this time you would catch him off guard, you knew who he really was and his face wasn't a secret unlike yours. 

Follow him after his deal with some other low life, remember that low life, then follow him back to whatever hole he thrived in. easy.

It really was easy. You followed him down to the basement of some abandoned building on the out-skirts of gotham. You waited silently as he unlocked the rusty metal door and slid it open then made your move. In an instant you were kicking him into the room that turned out to be a basic lab. You thought the kick would have knocked him on his ass, instead he stumbled a little and dropped his briefcase but managed to collect himself rather quickly. Quick enough that when you went to attack again he was swinging his body around and stopping your arm from hurling your fist into his jaw. 

You were stunned for a moment, surprised that he was even able to block you. His henchmen normally did the heavy lifting. His free hand was reaching into his jacket pocket and pulling something out. Shoving him you freed your arm and backed up. You stayed alert just in case but you knew he wouldn't hit himself with his own toxin. His mask was in the briefcase across the room. 

You eyes him as he pulled the canister out, he stared back with a tight smirk. “Oh, you decided to give me a house visit? How special.” He snorted. The liquid in the canister wasn't normal, this one was a pale pink. 

“Well I figured it was time to put an end to your madness, Dr. Johnathan Cran.” you said and shrugged. 

His smirk grew. “That so? Growing tired of chasing me then?” He took a step closer and straightened up in defense. “You know, I was waiting for an opportunity to try this new toxin out.” he said, shaking the canister with another step and taking his glasses off in the process, placing them in his jacket pocket. 

You stepped back, wanting to keep space between you. “That so? How are you gonna do that without your mask?” you said, glancing at the case that sat on the ground between you both. “Because I can bet I'll get to you before you make it to that mask.” you stated, ready for him to make a move.

A low chuckle left the man. His piercing eyes staring into you with no regard to your threat. “See, the thing is.” he began, taking another step. “I don't want the mask this time. I've seen this on people alone, how they suffer alone in their cells at arkham. I want to see what happens when two people are under the influence together.” he said, undoing the cap and tossing the smoking can between you. 

Smoke filled the room immediately and during the coughing fit the smoke caused, you watched him. He was clearly affected by the smoke, coughing along with you but stayed perfectly skill in place. You weren't sure why he wasn't making a move.  “What is this?” you choked out. 

You both slowly composed yourself as the smoke settled and fresh air became available. “It’s an aphrodisiac, laced with a little truth serum.” he said, a grin growing on his face as your eyes winded at his words. “The more sexual desire creeps in, the stronger the effect.” Jonathan said factually.

You shook your head in disbelief. “That's insane.” you said quietly.

He stood straight, cocky. “Perhaps. But tell me this, have you ever thought about how id fuck you? Late at night have you ever thought about how well my cock would stuff your pussy?” His words were sudden, lewd and they had an instant reaction on your body. 

You shook the feeling of heat on your face away. “What are you talking about?”

He chuckles and steps closer, leaving only a couple feet of space left. “Does your pussy ache at the thought of me fucking you?” he stepped closer when you didnt flinch back and then closed the gap when you only continued to stare at him in disbelief. The toxin was making you more compliant, more willing to let him be closer to you. A hand came to cup your cheek, the skin there felt like it was on fire from the contact. “Tell me, how do you feel?” his head tilted with an almost knowing grin as he looked down at you. 

You blinked slowly, your brain starting to fog up. You wanted to fight back, say something to wipe the smirk off his face but those thoughts swirled with the ones just like he was saying. You had the occasional thought about him, knowing what he looks like helps. It was a few times and everytime you felt disgusted by it, he was a deranged madman who drugged people. You looked up at him with pleading eyes, wanting nothing more than to hide as you felt your body tip more into desire for the criminal in front of you. 

“Well? Speak up. Is your pussy getting wet for me right now? Feeling hotter and needier, need me to fuck you all better?” he asked softly, almost caring while his thumb stroked your cheek. 

A small whimper escaped past your lips. Every word he spoke awoken a new spark in your brain that killed off all logic and left only a scorching burn of desire between your legs. You nodded slowly. “Y-yes.” you whispered, eyes barely keeping focused on his own that watched you with eyes that must look similar to your own, blown out and full of growing lust. 

“Good girl.” He cooed. Stepping away he dropped his hand from your face and nodded once. “Undress, and don't forget to take the mask off.” He ordered. 

You hesitated a moment, you started with your shoes but your hands froze before they could move to your shirt. feeling embarrassed now at the order as your brain attempts to wrap itself around what's happening. But he was watching you so intently and the gleam in his eyes was enough to push your brain to move your hands to the button and zipper of your pants and undo them. You slowly slid them down along with your belt and tools with shaky hands and kicked them aside. Then you went for the shirt and tossed them in the forming pile next to you. “Dr. Crane… my head feels…” you tried to express how you felt as your body and mind gave further in, the hesitation leaving you as you exposed yourself to him, now taking your bra off and sliding your panties down and subconsciously rubbing your thighs together. 

He smirks at how you now called him by his title “Oh sweet girl, I know.” his hand came back to cradle your cheek, this time thumbing the hem of your mask. “Why don't you take this off as well, clear your head up a bit.” His smile could have been mistaken for sincere. He slid the mask over your head and his smile grew when he saw your full face. “Well, I've been missing out huh?” 

Before you could even register just how exposed you were, his lips were on yours. The kiss wasn't harsh but it wasn't gentle, it was needy and hungry. His hands found your hips and pulled you flush against him. You clutched the front of his suit jacket as his lips worked against your own and you could feel just how hard he was with his bulge tightly pressed between your bodies. You couldn't help the small gasp you let out that became an invitation for Jonathan's skilled tongue to work its way into your mouth to further the pleasure. Even a kiss was making your sex pulse. You peered over at the canister at your feet but before those thoughts of the toxic’s involvement could form in your head you were swept away by Jonathan biting your lower lip. All desire to fight was lost and replaced by the need for Johnathan to fuck you untill your pussy was ruined. 

When you pulled away with shaky breaths Johnathan didn’t look as composed as he had before. It looked like the aphrodisiac was finally taking its full effect on him as well. He brought both hands up to cup your cheek, forcing you to look up at him. “I want to feel these lips, pretty girl, can you do that?” he asked. You nodded and he let you sink down to your knees. You wasted no time undoing his belt and pants, pulling them down enough to let his cock spring free before you. You couldn't help but rub your thighs together at the sight. You took him in your hands and pumped a few times, causing the man above you to let out a few shaky breaths. Pre cum adorned his cock head and was slowly dripping down his length. “Like it sweet girl?” he asked, looking down at your blown out eyes. 

You nodded and leaned in to lick a fat strip along his cock before slipping your lips around the leaky tip and sucking it like a lollipop. I deep groan rumbled through Johnathan. “Been wanting to taste your cock.” you confessed breathlessly before sliding down his cock and hollowing your cheeks around him, immediately starting a slow pop of your head.

Jonathan brought a hand to tangle in your hair, making sure it stays out of his view as you sucked him off. “Fuck baby.” he groaned “iv thought about your mouth on my cock so many times.” you moaned softly around his cock, continuing to suck him, the need to taste him and make him cum driving you to bob your head faster. “Just like that sweet girl, oh fuck just like that.” he leaned his head back, hand lax in your hair as you worked him. 

One hand fisted pumping his shaft while the other went to gently grope his balls. You moaned around his cock at the heavy set and squeezed them. Jonathan groaned and gripped your hair. He  pushed you down further until you were gagging with the tip of his cock hitting your throat. You struggled around his massive girth and you had to bring both hands up to hold into his pants to keep steady. “Fuck, baby..” he grit out between breathy groans, his seed shooting into the back of your throat. “So good baby, make sure to take all of it.” you struggled to maintain focus while he rutted himself into your mouth. “Fuck this aphrodisiac makes everything so sensitive.” he huffed.

You swallowed and began coughing and gasping for air as soon as he pulled out and released his hold on you to rake through his own hair. Regaining a little brain function you noticed his dick was still hard and still leaking precum. Then you felt the tingling in your core increase and you could feel just how wet you had gotten with hardly any touching. “Dr. Cane… will you fuck me now?” you asked, looking up at him with doe eyes. 

His hair was now disheveled and red tinted his cheeks. He brought you up with a hand on your chin while the other traveled to your hips, rubbing circles on the hot flesh with his thumb. “But I wanted to taste your dripping cunt and taste your cum sweet thing.” He said, his eyes showing how much he really was affected by his own desires right now. Letting go of your hip, his hand traveled to run a slender finger through your folds.

You gasped as the sudden stimulation. His fingers continued to work through your folds and soon started teasing your entrance. “Bu-but I want to feel you inside.” you whined out as his fingers pushed into your tight pussy.

He pumped into you a few times before pushing his palm down against your clit, adding to the stimulation and causing your pussy to clench around his digits. “If I can't now then you'll just have to let me after I’ve cleaned you up and the toxin wears off because if i fuck you now im filling you with my cum over and over until I have nothing left to give you.” he voice was low, filled with meaning and truth.

With the mix of his hand fucking your pussy relentless and his dirty words, you were reeling, hanging onto him as your legs began to shake. You tried to nod between soft moans while trying to keep your eyes open, the pleasure starting to feel too good as heat pooled in your stomach. 

“Tell me sweet girl, want me to fuck you full of my cum, want to wake up still stuffed and leaking all over?” he said, digging his palm into your cunt. “Use your words, let me hear you.” he said, moving closer to your face as you quickly came undone in his hand.

You nodded faster and let out a shaky breathless moan as his motions of pounding his fingers and grinding his palm into your sex intensified. Tears pricked the corners of your eyes as you tried to maintain focus on his blown out pupils. “Yes, yes please. Just fu-fuck me Dr. Crane!” you squealed out as your orgasm hit you. 

His hand wrapped itself into your hair, bringing you to rest your head against his chest. He let you grind into his hand while you settled from your high.

He listened to your moans dye into soft whimpers as your hips stilled with his fingers still buried in your cunt. “So good baby, you sounded so good for me.” He praised, finally pulling his hand away from your leaky hole. You flinched when he brought his index and middle fingers to your lips. “Open up and taste yourself.” he encouraged. You parted your lips and let him press his slick fingers against your tongue. 

You moaned around his fingers as you sucked your own release off of them. Then you looked up at the mad scientist with needy eyes. “Now? Please Dr. Crane? Will you fuck me now?” you asked though you were already pulling his jacket off his shoulders and unbuttoning his shirt. Your brain could only focus on him, your need for him to stuff your pussy.

His eyes softened and he allowed you to tug the shirt off. You began to kiss and bite his exposed flesh along his collarbone and jaw. “Fuck, alright baby. C’mer.” he grunted, picking you up by the thighs and within a few long strides he was laying between your legs on the couch that sat along the back wall. “Gonna be a good girl and take my fat cock?” he asked, rubbing his cock along your folds.

You gasped as he smeared your slick on his cock. “M’ready! Please put it in~” you begged and wrapped your legs around his hips to bring him closer. “Need you so bad, please.” 

His cock twitched against your heat. “Fuck, so needy for me.” he smirked and poked your tight hole with the tip of his cock. “Dripping wet and begging for my dick, what a dirty girl.” He teased and slowly sank into you. His hands held your hips in place as he bottomed out and you shook gently under him, legs squeezing his hips. You let out a loud and needy whine as he stretched your pussy open. He stilled inside and came to lean over you, arm next to your head caging you in. “don't worry, I'll take good care of you.” he cooed, rolling his hips into you and smirking at the face of Ah it caused you to make.

You hadnt had sex that felt this good before, his dick felt like it was made for your pussy. When he started a moderate pace to allow you to adjust a moment you could feel the slight curve of his cock. The veins on his cock dragging along your inner walls had you practically mewling under him with how good you felt. 

He chuckled and started a faster pace, making sure to bottom out with every thrust. Your pussy was sucking him in and squeezing him just right he could tell he was already close again. His thrust picked up so he pounding into you with precision and where it felt best and you were a moaning mess on his cock. Your hands came to hold his shoulders as he fucked into you. With your head pressed back into the couch cushions you lost yourself in his movements, so good you couldn’t tell that you were building to another orgasm until it was right there and the only warning you gave was a desperate moan and jumbled words. 

Johnathan groaned and leaned his head between your shoulder and head, his cock twitched before his hot load filled your gummy walls. “So tight baby, your pussy’s so good baby.” he praised as his hips rocked into you, making sure to fuck his cum deep and keep it there. He leaned up to look at you, a soft smile played at his lips. “Like my cum filling you up?” he asked, stroking some hair away from your face.

You smiled at him. “Feel so good. m’ warm and full.” you admitted. Your legs tugged him closer, not wanting him to pull out, you still felt so needy, you needed more. “Can I have more Dr. Crane?” you asked sweetly. 

His smile turned darker, more mischievous. “Oh baby, do you need me to fuck you tell your little pussy is dripping full of my cum?” He rolled his hips again teasingly. You nodded, breath caught in your through with how deep he was, and again his dick was still totally hard. “You were just begging me so well sweet girl, even calling me Dr.Crane like a good girl. You can do that again right?” he smiled and waited as he continued to roll his hips gently, just enough for a little friction. 

You nodded and cleared your throat. “Please, need you to fuck me full Dr. Crane.” you rushed out. His words had a way of causing the deepest reaction from you. You needed him so desperately you didn't understand anything but him right now. “Please, I need it.”

“Need it that bad? Tell me whose pussy this is then, tell me baby girl who do you belong to?” his eyes were fixed on yours, his face turned more serious. Your eyes widened at what he was saying, he wanted you to be his and his alone. The implication should have probably frightened you, made you struggle away but it didn't. You wanted him to ruin you, have you in every way. “Well?” he pressed.

“Yours, Dr. Crane.” you said softly and pushed yourself against him with a little whine. “All yours.” you conceded. 

With a low groan he slowly began to thrust into you again, pulling back almost completely to fill you up again. “That's it, all mine.” he sank his back into the crook of your neck and littered it with sloppy  kisses and the warmth of his tongue and teeth grazing the now new overly sensitive spot on your body. A hand came to roam over your breasts, squeezing one and pinching at your nipple before repeating the actions to the other. You whined and your hands came to tug at his dark hair. He smiled against your jaw before nipping at it. The thought of his marks adorning your chest and neck tomorrow made you feel even warmer.

You held tightly to him now that he was pounding into you with a firm hold on your hips. Your whole body was  responding to him perfectly and he just knew exactly where to hit that spot that had your legs shaking and eyes rolling into the back of your head. “Fu-ck, gonna cum!” you managed to squeak out, every thrust taking your breath with it. The only acknowledgement from Johnathan was his free hand snaking up your chest and his hand wrapped itself tightly around your through. He pulled back to look at you as his hips snapped into you faster, his eyes transfixed on watching you come undone under him. Your eyes fluttered to maintain focus on his face as the all too familiar sensation took over. You shook as you felt your release practically poor out of you with how stuffed you were. 

“So good, so fucking tight.” he said with a low groans as he thrusted into you, not giving you a moment to catch your breath after your climax. His eyes are fixed where your bodies connect, watching his cock ruin your pussy. “Fucking perfect. My pussy. My girl.” he grunts between thrusts. You held onto him, arms locked around his neck. He fucked into you desperately and he was still hitting you so deep you couldn't help the lewd sounds coming from you. Your sweet little whimpers and moans encouraging him to fuck you faster. He grinned down at your fucked out face, tears streaming down your cheeks as your body became sweetly overstimulated. He could feel and hear your slick coating your lower bodies.

It was becoming overwhelming for you, his cock hitting the right spots over and over without stopping while his ships slammed into you. “To much! Too–aahh much please!” you begged for release, still to cling to him.

“Sshhh baby you can do it, give me one more. Squeeze my cock like that one more time.” he encouraged through low groans. He brought the hand down between your bodies to run fast circles on your clit. “You can do it, cum again for me. Such a pretty thing when you cum.” The sounds of your fluids mixing filled the room along with breathy moans and gasps from the both of you. 

You cried out a moan and screwed your eyes shut. He was going to force another orgasim from your abused cunt and there was no stopping him, you could feel your stomach tighten and pussy flutter uncountably around his girth. “Fuck! Please ple-” you groaned out as another orgasm shook through your body, your pussy spasming around his cock as he continued to stroke your sweet spot through your climax. You felt his cock shoot another full load of his hot cum deep into your waiting pussy.

“Good girl.” he cooed, slowing his relentless pounding as your pussy pulsed around his cock. “So good baby, you did so well, are you ready for your treat?” he asked and you nodded, your chest heaving as you looked up at him and his still hard cock twitched at the sight of tears pricking the corners of your eyes. He smirked at the thought of you being so overly stimulated and crying for him. Then with you still impaled on his throbbing cock, he wrapped his arms around your back and brought you to sit on his lap with his legs now firm on the ground.

Your back arched and you let out a strangled moan as he managed to sink just a little further into you. You could feel his cum leaking from your spent hole and down his dick, your mixed fluids soon began drenching his pants as he bounced you on his cock. “Dr. Crane, so much cu-um.” you whimpered, trying to hold yourself up with shaky arms. “So full, there's so much.” you babbled out between moans. You were cock drunk and it was evident as your eyes streamed with tears

Johnathan couldn't blame you however, he was right there with you, your pussy was constantly clenching around him like you were always on the verge of another orgasm. “You can handle a little more right? I mean look how much has already spilled out?” he said, gazing down at where your bodies connected. You followed his eyes and the sight alone sent a shiver through you. Slick and cum oozed around the base of his cock with every thrust into you. “Your pussy feels so good Babygirl, squeezing me so tight. Do you want to cum again?” he asked, bringing a hand down to rub against your overly sensitive clit as his hips rutted up against your own. 

You whined and your arms folded in on you, no longer able to hold yourself up. You were so tired but he felt too good, your pussy responded so well to his touch you couldn’t help when another orgasm began to wind itself up. “To mu-uch, feels weird Dr. Crane” you practically screeched into his chest and blinked away tears that threatened to fall.

His hips continued to hit your tender bundle of nerves while his hands simultaneously slammed you down into his cock and abused your throbbing clit. “Good, that's it, let it feel good and make a mess for me.” he encouraged, feeling his own release creeping up. His words relaxed you and you soon felt the wave slam into you within seconds. Your body tensed and your legs shook around him as you self liquid drench his lower stomach and under your bodies. You cried into his chest, tears now rolling down your cheeks. “Fu-cuk, that's it. Squeezing me so well to take my fat load.” He groaned, leaning his forehead against your shoulder and rutting into you as he emptied his balls into your sloppy hole.

You pulled back and looked at him, eyes tired and pussy still fluttering around him. Your mind and body were so tired but your pussy shuddered at the thought of him pulling out. “Can we stay like this?” you asked hopefully. 

He smiled softly at you and brought his hands to cradle you upper and lower back. He leaned back more and pulled you to lay on his chest. “Don't worry sweet girl, I got you.” he coles while stroking your back and gently rocking his hips up. 

you whined softly against him. “Some toxin, you can keep coming after all of that.” you noted, almost frightened since your pussy was pusling and raw some rought he was already fucking you. 

He chuckled and rolled his hips gently again, starting a steady rhythm that was actually relaxing and had you curling into you as your eyes fluttered shut. “I know, and thankfully I have you to take it all for me, I did say I’d give you everything.” he held you firmly against him, his hips picking up speed but staying gentle and as calming as he can manage. “I'll take good care of you.” he whispered into your ear. You sighed and gave in, relaxing fully into him as he used your pussy to get off again. You didn’t want to fight it, even this, being a ragdoll for him to fuck into was wonderful. 

To say the mess you woke up to was almost alarming. you, laying on his chest with his soft cock still buried in you with mixed fluids still soaking your bodies.

[thefallennightmare]

Arranged-one

Pairings: Mob!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: language, smut, angst, fluff, mentions of death.

Summary: Reader would do anything to make her parents happy and that included agreeing to an arranged marriage. She never expected it to be to one of New York's most feared Mob Boss: Bucky Barnes. He is anything but loving towards Reader however when her parents are mysteriously killed, Bucky makes it his mission to find out who were at fault. And in the process, ends up coming close to losing Reader.

Authors Note: here we go! This is my first time at a mob boss au so let's hope you all like it! Tags for this will be open, just shoot me a message or comment if you're interested!

Arranged Masterlist

I sighed while looking up at the large mansion in front of me, bags placed neatly behind me. The driver gave me a curt nod and with a smile of thanks, I saw him on his way before looking back at the mansion; my new home. 

Anger radiated throughout my insides when I thought of the reason why I was in this mess in the first place. 

My parents. I loved them to death, they would do anything for me and I for them. 

I was to be married off and not to any regular man. In a week's time, I was going to be married to New York’s highest feared mob boss. Confusion filled me at first when I couldn’t quite understand why they thought this was a great idea but deep down I knew why they did it. They wanted the best for me, to be set up for the rest of my life and not have to worry about anything. Which is exactly why they set up this arrangement. 

With a soft sigh, I ascended the staircase up to the front door and softly knocked, the nerves attacking me. I bounced on the soles of my heels as I waited. 

The door opened, revealing a small, older lady who had a confused expression. “Can I help you?” 

I nodded. “Uh, hi. My name is Y/N Y/L/N, I believe Mr.-.”

Her eyes lit up while furiously nodding. “Yes, come in.”

With a smile, I went to drag my bags inside but she waved me off. “Don’t you worry about that. I’ll have someone grab that and bring it to your room.” 

She motioned for me to follow her inside and that’s when I took in my new home. A large grand staircase twisted and turned upstairs, and one hallway to my right and another towards the left. 

“I’m Barb. I’m here for whatever you need,” the older lady smiled. 

My own matched hers. “Thank you, Barb.” 

“So,” she motioned to the hallway on my left. “If you go down that hallway you’ll find the rest of the house; kitchen, living area, gym, a couple bathrooms, and the laundry room.” 

She then pointed to the hallway on my right. “Down here is an empty room that’s been used for storage and his office. He doesn’t like to be bothered unless it’s an emergency. A good rule to live by: Door open means come in, door cracked means ask, door closed means turn your back and walk away.” 

I quirked a brow. “You know from experience?” 

“I’ve been taking care of this house and him for the last 10 years. A little piece of advice?” 

When I nodded, Barb continued. “He may come off as an asshole sometimes but he really is a sweet loving man.” 

Her words warmed my heart. I had heard rumors about him, everyone has. They weren’t positive ones either. There was a reason why he was the worst feared mob boss of New York. 

“Upstairs is where the bedrooms are,” She motioned for me to follow, which I did. 

Once we reached the top of the stairs she nodded towards two closed doors. “The door on the left is the master bedroom and that one across the hall is yours.” 

“Wait, we’re not sharing a room?” I questioned. 

Barb shook her head. “He doesn’t want to pressure you. He already knows that you weren’t too fond of this arrangement so he wanted you to have your own space  until you’re ready to stay with him.” 

I could only nod, not sure what to say exactly, so Barb opened my bedroom door allowing me to step inside. 

The room wasn’t anything special, I mean it was the size of my old apartment so the extra space was nice and the bathroom was breathtaking with the large tub facing the large open fields behind the home. But what caught my attention was the large bouquet of roses on the bedside table and a gorgeous floor length black dress lay on the edge of the bed with a note. 

Dinner tonight. I’ll meet you at the bottom of the stairs at seven. 

B.B.

“Where is he anyway?” I asked Barb while shedding off my coat, letting it drop onto my bed. 

“In a meeting but should be finishing up soon. Feel free to have a look around and make yourself at home. Just make sure to check his-.” 

“Check his door before entering,” I finished Barb’s sentence with a smile. 

Barb waved goodbye, letting me be by myself to settle in. However, just as I was about to call after her for my bags, a large blonde walked into my room and placed all of my things in the doorway. 

I knew in the way that the muscles in his back and arms flexed that carrying all of my things didn’t bother him. He stood tall before a smile peaked out from underneath his beard and he slicked back his long blonde hair out of his face. He was dressed in a light blue dress shirt and dark dress pants, the shirt bringing out the blueness of his eyes. 

He definitely had to work for him. 

“That should be everything.” 

I nodded at him. “Yeah, thank you, uh-.”

“Steve Rogers. But you can call me Steve,” he extended his hands. 

Hesitantly I placed my own in his and with his size, I was shocked at how soft his grip was; almost as if he was afraid. Our hands lingered together for a few more beats before he dropped his hand away and stuffed them into the pockets of his pants. 

“Do you need anything?” Steve asked. 

“I think I’m good, thank you.” I gave him a smile. 

“Of course but if you do, let me know. I’ve been assigned to you.” 

I squinted my eyes at him. “Assigned?” 

“Your bodyguard. You’re not allowed to go anywhere without me,” Steve informed.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” I cursed, suddenly feeling the anger that was dormant since before I walked into this house. 

“I don’t need a babysitter.” 

Steve hesitantly nodded. “I understand but he insists.”

Not saying another word, I pushed past Steve and sprinted down the stairs towards the office, not caring to look to see what his door was like. I may have agreed to this marriage, reluctantly, but I did not agree to have a babysitter and be followed around everywhere I went. I needed to have some rules in this arrangement. 

Thankfully the door to his office was cracked but I didn’t bother to ask if I could come in. 

“You’ve got some fucking nerve,” I seethed as I entered. 

He was in the middle of sitting on his green velvet couch and crossed his leg over his other knee. Even underneath his smirk, I knew he was upset about my barging in. I was so angry about this that I didn’t even notice how breathtaking he looked under the faint light that emanated from the lamps next to his couch. But then once the anger dissipated slightly, my gaze fell onto his left arm as he ran a hand over the stubble on his chin and an audible gasp fell through my lips when I realized that the biggest rumor about him was true. The light brushed off the metal, his fingers poking out of the sweater he was wearing.

“Sit,” he pointed to the chair across from him. 

I stood my ground while crossing my arms over my chest. “I don’t need a fucking baby sitter, Barnes.” 

“Call me Bucky.” 

I wanted to wipe the smug smirk off of his face. 

“I can take care of myself,” I stated flatly. 

“I’m sure you can but given my reputation, I think it’s best. Steve’s one of my best men, he’s worked for me since the beginning. I trust him.” 

My soon to be husband leaned back into his couch, resting the different arm across the back of it. If he noticed me staring, he made no comment about it, only nodded to the chair across from him once again. 

I ignored him, yet again. 

“Next time you make a decision about me or how I’m going to live around here, run it by me first alright?” I suggested. 

Bucky’s eyes turned dark. “You do know who you’re talking to, right?” 

I scoffed. “I don’t give a fuck who you are, James Buchanan Barnes. The only reason why I’m here is because of my parents and their wishes.” 

We were interrupted by a knock to the door, a group of men clutching briefcases close to them. 

“I thought our meeting was scheduled for four,” one of them said. 

These men screamed ‘sketchy’ and knew whatever kind of meeting they were about to have was going to be one that I shouldn’t be around for. 

Bucky nodded. “We were just finishing up here.” 

He then turned his attention towards me. “We can finish this discussion during dinner.” 

“Consider this conversation over,” I muttered while storming out of the room, letting the door slam behind me.

[gars-weaponeer]

The Hunted Batch (Ch. 1)

Summary: What if Hunter's inhibitor's chip activated instead of Crosshair's?

Word count: 3,540

Characters: Hunter, Crosshair, Wrecker, Tech, Echo and Omega.

Tags & Warnings: Canon divergent, No romantic relationships, Inhibitor chips, Angst with a happy ending. (If I miss one please notify me)

You can also read it on AO3:

“Hey Kid, you ready for this? We move fast.” “Good, that’s the only way I know.”

It all seemed good at first. A mission like many others they had had all up to that point. Droids did not stand a chance against their combined tactics, after all they were “The Clone force 99”, one of the best special forces the GAR had to spare. 

Now they were running through the snow of Kaller, chasing after the remaining separatist forces alongside a young Padawan named Caleb Dume. The cold of the winter could still be felt as they ran, even with their armors on, but neither Crosshair nor his companions seemed to care about it. The promise of the war ending soon had everyone filled with a rush of energy, there would be time to rest later. For now they pushed forward, ready to successfully finish another mission. 

However the sound of distant blasters behind them caught Crosshair’s attention. Were they being attacked from behind? His Squad stopped dead in their tracks as they saw the padawan rush back towards the trenches they just left. The heat of a battle had lifted a soft cloud of mist that prevented Crosshair from seeing clearly what was going on, but the light of a blue lightsaber deflecting blaster fire was recognizable. 

General Billaba, the Jedi in charge of this front, was in danger. 

Hunter and Crossair exchanged looks for a second before rushing back towards the battle, ready to assist their allies against a surprise droid attack. 

As they ran, Crosshair lowered his rangefinder to get a better view of the enemy and start his attack from afar, after all he was the sharpshooter of the squad, however what he saw shocked him to his core and froze him in place.

Those were not droids attacking General Billaba, those were clones. 

Confusion took over Crosshair at the fight he was witnessing, it was so bizarre, so unthinkable that he did not know how to react.

Before he could relay this information to his brothers, a blood curdling scream tore through the air, a sinking realization  settled heavily on Crosshair’s gut. They were too late. 

Hunter stopped when he saw the young Padawan running back towards them, tears streaming down his eyes. Were the regs going to attack him too?

“What happened?” Hunter asked, just as freaked out as he felt out of the confusion of the situation. He didn’t see what Crosshair had seen, how could he? Hunter did not possess his enhanced eyesight. 

“Stay away from me!” Commander Caleb swung his lightsaber at them, forcing the team of clones to keep their distance before he took off into the woods.

The squad stood frozen for a couple of seconds as they tried to process what had just happened. Just moments ago everything was fine and now an eerie sensation of peril took over the scene before them.

“Wha- What just happened?”  Echo’s shocked voice brought Crosshair back to reality, as he blinked to see his fellow teammate.

“The com channel is repeating one directive: “Execute order 66''.'' Tech said, his eyes glued on his data pad, as if trying to translate a phrase that was spoken in another, unrecognizable language. 

Those words however caused a strange stir inside Crosshair, a dreadful sensation of something important he should know but had been long forgotten. It didn’t matter how much he tried to “remember” it just didn’t make sense to him. He had never heard that order before. 

Was it a reg thing?

As he looked over at his brothers he could tell they were all as confused as he was, even Echo, who knew more of the “Reg manuals” than they did. 

Whenever there was doubt, the squad would always turn to Hunter. 

He had a natural skill for rational thinking and staying calm even in the most daring situations, which he used to guide his team towards victory or safety countless times. This would not be different, Crosshair thought.

At that moment, Hunter had his eyes glued to the forest, barely taking them away from the path the Padawan had left behind. 

‘He is probably worried about the kid’ Crosshair thought to himself, after all Hunter always had a soft spot for children. One that proved annoying for the sniper.

“Echo, Tech, talk to the Reg Captain, see what proceeds.” Hunter began telling his orders, directing his companions to move back to the trenches. 

“Crosshair, you and I will track down the Padawan and bring him back.”  Crosshair nodded in agreement.

“Wrecker, you contact me if anyone else tries to follow us.” Hunter told the tallest of his brothers before he began to run into the forest, giving Crosshair a signal to follow him close behind. 

They trotted down hill, knees deep into the snow, but keeping a determined pace. 

Crosshair and Hunter didn’t always see eye to eye, but there was not denying that the sniper trusted Hunter with his life. 

Crosshair had to admit that he admired and envied just how easily Hunter could stay calm in the worst of situations. Knowing that the sergeant was staying cool and composed  gave him a sense of security.  Everything will be fine as long as Hunter can lead us.

They ran through the thick evergreen branches, barely feeling the cold in the air as they kept their chase. 

Hunter would stop for a few seconds to read some tracks and check the air for signals of the kid before continuing down a path. He was focused like a hound chasing a target. 

Crosshair took the opportunity to find a large boulder, perfect for a perch and got in position, climbing to high ground with quick graceful moves. He scoped the area carefully, getting a better view of the terrain. 

His and Hunter’s abilities complimented each other perfectly for this kind of operations, with his keen eyesight catching the slightest details on the horizon, and hunter’s senses scanning for trails, there were very few things that could hide from them. 

Crosshair was about to move down from the boulder when Hunter’s voice was heard from his spot below.

“He is close…” Hunter whispered, raising a fist, signaling Crosshair to stop in his place. 

As he looked around at the trees, Crosshair noticed Caleb perched on one of the high branches, huddled with his robes in an attempt to camouflage himself and pass unnoticed. Sadly said disguise could not fool the sharpshooter’s eye. 

“There he is.” Crosshair pointed to Hunter with a slight gesture of his head, lowering his rifle and waiting for the sergeant to make the next move. 

Hunter has always been the face and voice of the group, being the only member of the batch that actually had decent social skills, along with natural charisma and good looks. He was skilled in making up for their antics with just his words, and people seemed to like Hunter better than they liked the loud Wrecker, the Introvert Tech or the broody Crosshair.

So it was no brainer that Crosshair would step aside so Hunter could try and calm the kid down. After all, that’s what Hunter was good at. He would walk up to the kid, speaking softly and calmly, asking him to come back down so they can take him safely back to camp.

Crosshair even moved his rifle’s barrel upwards to seem as less threatening as possible.

However, he did not expect what happened next.

Hunter doesn’t move from his place, he doesn’t get closer to the kid, he doesn’t even try to talk. Instead he draws his blaster from its holster and shoots at the kid. The blaster fire passing right next to Crosshair’s shoulder, startling him.

Caleb reflects the blast away with his lightsaber and runs away jumping through the treetops, getting lost in the snow for a moment. 

But Crosshair was not caring about that now, instead he was staring at Hunter in shock. 

“What are you doing?!” Crosshair asked the sergeant with a hiss as he leaped down the boulder, marching closer to Hunter.

“We need to finish the mission.” Hunter said sternly, hostling the gun back in place and starting to move back into tracking the kid when Crosshair grabbed him by the shoulder, forcing Hunter to look at him.

“What mission? This was not in our report to begin with!”  He was trying to read Hunter’s expression through the visor of his mask, but it was nearly impossible.  “Shouldn’t we stand down until we know what’s going on?”

Crosshair has never been fond of children, he had always found them annoying and a nuisance. And he had always had a problem with authority, finding Jedi to be pretentious, only a handful being able to gain his respect. But killing Caleb? A Jedi Commander? Let alone a Kid!? That was way out of line, especially for Hunter and it made Crosshair suspicious. 

Before he could respond, however, Hunter began to clutch his head, as if a sudden migraine had taken over him, bending over slightly, facing the white snowy floor of the forest.

“Good soldiers follow orders…” he whispered eerily. 

“What was that?” Crosshair leaned a bit closer to see if he could catch what Hunter was saying, but Hunter did not repeat his strange whisper. 

The comlink activates again with a beep and Wrecker’s voice could be heard.

“Hunter, you’ve got Regs inbound.” 

This seemed to snap Hunter out of his trance, as he stood up back straight and talked back into his comlink.

“Copy that.” He relies before looking at Crosshair as if nothing had happened. “Come on, let's keep moving.” He urges, running after the trail of fallen snow the kid left behind. 

Crosshair cannot help but stare at Hunter’s back as he runs, a sinking feeling of dread taking over his chest and the pit of his stomach. Something was wrong, very wrong.

Regardless, he follows the sergeant in the chase. 

“Hunter, we got a situation.” Tech’s voice cracked through the comlink.

“Talk to me Tech.” Hunter demanded as he kept running, seemingly undeterred as he searched around for the kid. 

“It appears the Regs have been ordered to execute all the Jedi, they are saying they committed treason.” Tech says, shocking Crosshair to the core. 

“Right, that explains a lot.” Hunter said coldly, prompting Crosshair to snap slightly at his words.

“How does that explain anything?”

He was beyond confused. The clones suddenly turning on the Jedi made no sense, it almost felt like a trap, a separatist ploy. How could Hunter just accept the situation with no skepticism? The Bad Batch had always been a rebellious group compared to the more disciplined soldiers of the GAR, they had broken many rules, among other things. They never just charged into battle in a straight line, following instructions to the T. Their success came from their ability to improvise and think outside the box. 

Every problem had a solution, they just needed to find it. Unofficial motto. So why was Hunter just accepting this as if nothing weird was going on?

It appeared Crosshair was not the only one feeling confusion over Hunter’s words as Tech stuttered a bit before continuing. 

“I… suggest you get back here.”

“Not until I’ve found the kid.” Hunter says firmly, determinedly, and terrifyingly cold as he shut the transmission with Tech and looked around. He was a soldier on a mission and it was well known of their squad that they did not stop until the mission was completed. 

However, the idea that the mission was hunting down a kid sent shivers down Crosshair’s spine.

As Crosshair scans the area he notices the kid again, perched on a tree branch once more, and he freezes.

He should tell Hunter, but he hesitates, this did not feel right with him but he also did not know how to proceed.

Before he can react, however, Hunter’s senses catch on to the Kid’s rapid breathing and he quickly turns around, drawing his blaster and shooting towards him. The branch Caleb is perched on snaps and he falls down into the snow below.

There is a moment of silence as the mist caused by the stirring of the snow settles and Caleb turns on his lightsaber, glaring at both clones before rushing towards them. Ready to fight for his life like a cornered animal. 

Hunter immediately reacts, trying to shoot back at the kid as he gets closer and closer with each hurried step. 

Crosshair freezes as he stares at the scene unfolding in front of him. What should he do? Should he shoot the kid or try to stop Hunter? His hands fumble with the safety of his rifle, his eyes darting from the gun in his hands to the battle. 

He can almost see it in slow motion, reading each movement before it happens, and it is then that he sees how Caleb lifts his lightsaber, ready to strike Hunter down. Crosshair can almost see it cutting his brother in half and a panicked “no!” slips out of his lips as he points his rifle at the padawan. 

This seemed to make Caleb react, as in the last second he contorted his body to kick Hunter in the chest, sending him tumbling towards a tree and making him hit his head, knocking him out cold. 

Caleb then turns towards Crosshair, glare blazing hot as the saber in his hands. Ready to lunge at him, however, Crosshair has his rifle pointed at him, waiting for him to make the first move. One false movement and it could be the end of either of them both.

“I do not want to hurt you…” Crosshair growls, ‘but I will if I must.’ He thinks.

Caleb doesn’t take his chances, instead he runs away back into the forest. 

Crosshair hesitates for a second, looking at Hunter carefully. The sergeant is still breathing, but still out cold, Crosshair instead decides to rush after the kid, following his tracks right towards a Waterfall. 

He can notice how Caleb moves anxiously in his place, looking around, desperate to find a way out when he senses the presence of the sharpshooter behind him, immediately drawing his lightsaber to confront Crosshair.

“Stay back!” Caleb was frantic, waving his lightsaber erratically, trying to keep Crosshair away.

The clone stopped and stayed still. He needed to make sure the kid was ok. 

He slowly raised his hands and dropped his rifle to the side. 

“Listen, I’m trying to help kid.” He says, his voice sounded more like a growl to which Crosshair mentally kicked himself. 

“No! You killed her! you traitors killed her!” There were tears streaming down the kid’s cheeks, and he backed away. 

Crosshair knew that if he did not do anything the kid wouldn't stand a chance on his own. He could be many things, but he was not a heartless man. He had to try and do something, even if he had no idea of what. What would Hunter do?

“The regs did” Crosshair tried, really tried, to soften his voice. But he was not made for that. “I’m not like them.”

Caleb seems to doubt for a second, but he is still looking around frantically. 

“I…I can help you get out of here alive.” Crosshair offers in a hurry. 

Frankly, Crosshair had no idea how he would do that. Planning was not his forte, but he trusted, partially,  he could figure something out quickly before Hunter came to or before the regs found him. 

The kid seems to calm down at his words and for a second Crosshair feels relief. He managed to convince the kid. However the damned voices of the regs in the distance caught both their attention. Caleb was not going to get himself captured, he glares at Crosshair for a moment before he takes the chance and jumps across the ravine.

Crosshair almost dreads he won’t make it. but the force has allowed Caleb to land safely on the other side. Once there, Caleb does not waste time running into the forest until he is lost from Crosshair’s sight. 

The sniper sighs, maybe it was for the best. The regs would not be able to chase him like this. However there was one clone who still might.

Crosshair took a piece of thick wood from the snowy forest floor along with his rifle and threw his target up into the air before the ravine, aiming at it and shooting.

It made a sound that he knew Hunter would recognize. The sound of a bullet hitting “something”.

He could not do much to help the kid now, but he hoped to at least fool Hunter enough to lose his trail.

Crosshair can hear footsteps running towards him, just a pair, which tells him that his brother has returned. So he keeps his eyesight on the misty falls below, begging to the force that Hunter won’t be able to see the footprints on the other side of the ledge. 

When Hunter reaches Crosshair he immediately kneels to inspect the tracks at his feet.

Would he notice the kid jumped? Of course he would, this was Hunter...

But would he notice his trick?

“Where is the Jedi?” He almost growls, like a dog anxious to catch its prey. 

“He tried to jump” Crosshair said, keeping his sight down “... So I shot him mid air, He fell into the waterfall.”

Without looking at Hunter, Crosshair turns on his heels and marches away. 

He can feel that Hunter is not convinced. He can tell that his brother is probably trying to regain his trail. But he also knows Hunter won’t be able to sniff out the trail in the mist of the waterfall.

The trip back home to Kamino was long, however Crosshair spent most of the time napping. 

It wasn’t unusual for him to nap as the Marauder cruised through hyperspace; The inside of the ship, surrounded by his brothers, was one of the two places Crosshair felt the safest and where he could sleep soundly, truly rest, without feeling on edge. 

“We are coming up on Kamino.” Tech’s voice  brought him out of his slumber, slowly waking him up. Crosshair  sighed and stretched slightly in his chair. He could hear his brothers talking in the cockpit, something about how long they had been away from home. 

However what caught Crosshair’s attention was the eerie feeling of being watched. 

Hunter had been staring at him, his eyes unreadable under his helmet.  Crosshair could not tell if he had just now laid his eyes on him or if Hunter had been staring at him for a longer time while he slept. 

Still Cross tries to remain calm as he just growled back at Hunter. “What now?” He asked, acting annoyed at Hunter’s stare. 

“Are you sure you shot the padawan dead Crosshair?” Hunter asked, his tone cold under the helmet, causing an involuntary shiver to run down Crosshair’s back.

“I never miss my shots Hunter”  He reminded him, trying to sound as convinced as he would usually be. 

“Well, I could’ve sworn I still heard his heartbeat at the ridge.” Hunter says, keeping his stare on crosshair, reading his expressions. Crosshair thanked the maker that he knew how to keep his own heartbeat stable, or else Hunter would know he was lying. 

“When you don’t shoot the heart, it usually still beats until you bleed out. Besides, if the shot didn’t kill him the fall did, or the rapids." Crosshair said. “Either case, the kid is dead.” He lies, standing up and walking towards the rest, feeling safer by their side as Hunter’s glare was still burning at the nape of his neck.

Hunter didn’t chase after him, but the dreadful feeling that something was wrong kept eating at Crosshair’s mind. 

Hunter was not acting as his usual self, he was angry and aggressive and for once Crosshair was not sure what caused his attitude to change. Usually when he got upset it was because of something they had done or something that had gone wrong during the mission. He was 90% sure he and his brothers didn’t do anything wrong this time so he ruled that one out. 

Was Hunter upset that they couldn’t save the jedi general? No, if that was the case he wouldn’t have tried to kill the kid. 

Did he think the kid had done it?

Crosshair remembered that only he saw the regs attacking the Jedi master, maybe Hunter had the wrong idea of what happened? Then again, Caleb had run back when they started hearing the blasters, Hunter must have noticed that too.

As he kept replaying the events of the mission in his head, he felt more and more confused.

It almost felt like someone or something had replaced Hunter and the Regs all of the sudden.

He remembered that one time they had a mission involving clawdites and a shiver ran down his spine. What if--

No, it couldn’t have happened, Hunter never left his side before he started to act weird, so Crosshair could rule out that he was actually replaced.

But then… Why was everyone acting so strange all of the sudden?

If you enjoyed it, please consider linking/re-blogging my work!

ᴰᶦᵛᶦᵈᵉʳ ᵇʸ @stars-n-spice

[stickytrigger69]

Fluff of poly breakdown and knockout reuniting with s/o reader who they thought was offlined but surprise reader is alive

Poly Breakdown and Knockout x GN Cybertronian Reader

Reader is gender neutral

Bot instead of mech or femme

Readers' frame type, paint job, etc, are unspecified.

Reader is hinted at being somewhere in between the two in terms of height (just cause it's cute that way lol)

Reader is in a polygamous relationship with Knockout and Breakdown.

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

There is a long list of bots that have gone missing and been offlined during the war. Since even the beginning, both factions started losing troops to the unknown. And though the list is long, many know that it should be longer, so many others have been completely forgotten, they just don't exist anymore. That almost happened to you. Everyone almost forgot your name and frame type, believing that you were utterly obliterated. But there are two mech who think about you constantly and want you to return to them, they know you will even if wveryone says theyre delusional.

Their berth is comfortable and warm as they lay together. They don't even have to talk to enjoy each other's company. Even without words, they both know and feel that something is missing, though. That something was a special someone, a gorgeous bot that got as much as they gave, and they gave a lot. With a deep sigh, Knockout got closer to Breakdown, holding onto him tighter. The weather on this bipolar planet is gloomy today, cloudy with the promise of rain and lightning.

And it does nothing but add to their moment. After the loss of their third, the two have become closer. More worried and afraid of losing one another, the loneliness they both feel, the cold that they feel in your place is too much. To bear it alone would kill them. It would just break them down and make them crumble into a pile of rubble. So they hold each other, they hold each other so tightly sometimes it leaves paint transfers on their arms and chassis.

You made things flow, and since you've "disappeared," they've had to adapt and have, begrudgingly, built up a new routine without you. They uncomfortably work through the space you've left behind. Even now, Knockout holds onto Breakdown with a small space in between them for you to squeeze yourself into. With a small sigh, Breakdown reaches over and pulls him flush to him, closing the gap. He receives an annoyed grumble in return, but he doesn't care. No one but him can fill the space right now.

As soon as they begin to drift into recharge, the alarm blares into their audials, and the emergency lights flash red. Did the Autobots manage to make it onboard again? They both shoot up and out of the berth to start making their way down the halls to the control room. The closer they get, though, they notice vehicons scattered around the halls, they're not dead, just incapacitated. A little odd, Autobots don't seem to mind killing them unless they've just chosen to switch it up this time.

Just a few corners from the control room, they notice more cons on the floor. Just one more corner to the entrance of the control room and they see a shadow on the wall.

"Out of my way!" A stranger yells as a vehicon is thrown against the wall where their shadow rests. The door whooshes open, and the stranger wastes no time rushing in. More clanging of metal fists hitting faceplates and the occasional grunt and blaster fire. The two turn the corner to see the stranger take down the last vehicon in their way only to face off Soundwave and lose almost instantly. With a growl, they are knelt down in front of Megatron.

"You abandon me on Cybertron, and now you attack me when I should be welcome?" They hiss.

"I did not abandon you. And it is only a precaution. You did land unannounced." Megatron replies nonchalantly, earning another growl.

"I thought you'd recognize your own craft, my lord. But you just left me there! Just forgot about me!" They shout.

"All we found was a piece of your armor, there was nothing more-"

"Or so you thought! You didn't even bother looking!" That makes Megatron angry.

"There was only ash and no time to spare! It was a battlefield!" He yells, but they don't flinch.

"You knew I was alive, didn't you? Just couldn't be bothered, right?" They sound sad? "And what did you tell my partners? That I was dead? Even showed them the spot that marked my grave, didn't you? Where are they? Did you abandon them, too?" They accuse. "They're here, aren't they?" Megatron says nothing, only stares at the stranger. Halfway up the steps of the walkway, they stop to look at each other, hope in their expressions before they continue back up the stairs with newfound vigor. Eager to see this stranger.

As they come into view, it's hard to see more than just a color scheme because of Soundwave blocking their view of said stranger, but for some reason, they're oddly familiar. Megatron nods his head at the silent mech who lets you go, giving you room to stand. With the room, you lunge at him, but he grabs your shoulder, stopping you mid jump.

"Please understand, I didn't have a choice but to assume you were offlined for the greater good. To risk a whole battalion on one would be foolish. You do have a right to be angry, but know where to aim that anger." Megatrons servo tightens around your shoulder before turning you around to see Soundwave take a side step to move out of the way. Your frown dissipates and is replaced by surprise. Before you is a short red mech and a tall blue one. The room is silent, save for the sounds of pedes as the vehicons pick themselves up.

"I knew it!" Knockout shouts, causing you to flinch. "We knew it! We knew you were still functioning!" He hastily approaches you to take your servos in his and small beads of coolant in his optics. You didn't notice when coolant began building up in your own optics, but you did notice when a drop trailed down your face. You're at a loss for words, processor running low on energy as your red lover rants to you about how he knew you would find them. Megatron stands there behind you, watching with a smug face as your demeanor is weakened at the mere sight of your lovers.

A servo presses to the side of your face, cupping your cheek perfectly, and you subconsciously lean into it. A somber smile on your face as your optics flutter closed. Breakdown finally comes back into his frame and steps over to lift you both into his big arms. You laugh heartily at the sudden pressure, optics snapping open to look at his orange face. He smiles brightly at you, and without a word, he starts walking out of the control room. Your and Knockouts pedes sway with every step he takes.

"Soundwave, I want you to pay very close attention to them, (designation) doesn't seem like themself." Megatron orders when the trio are far away enough. The shorter mech beside him nods.

You've been gone way too long, it seems. The two have already made their new ways without you. Perhaps...

"(Designation)? Are you alright, sweet spark?" Breakdown asks softly.

"Hmm? Oh, yes. Fine. Why?" Optics a little wider and voice a little higher than you mean for it to be, but you play it off.

"You're a little; I don't know." He shrugs at you. "I really can't say what it is, but I know something is off."

You frown and open your mouth to say something, "they're just getting used to things again. You feel out of place, don't you, love?" Knockout asks you with a small pout. You nod absent-minded. With the click of his glossa, he nods and pulls you into his chest, resting his chin on the top of your helm. You finally relax, frame slowing down after all this time. After so many years, your once tense joints and stressed lines loosen and open up. This is all you need and all that you've wanted. Always having been the physical type with your lovers, wanting their digits or servo intertwined with your own.

You let out a deep exvent, and Knockout hums approvingly. You sit there against Knockout, listening to his familiar frame him and Whirl with life. Breakdown watches and notices Knockout shift and brace his pedes on the floor. "Did they?" He asks. Knockout looks at him with a smile.

"They did. Help me move them, please." He pecks Breakdowns lips when he gets close enough to look at your face. Such a tired little face, he looks at every inch of your faceplate, dedicating the sight to his memory, he was scared he had been forgetting what you looked like but he still remembers. When he's satisfied, he stands tall and lifts you up off Knockout's chest with a small huff.

"They feel lighter." He states flatly only for the short red mech to hum in agreement. He looks down at him to see him staring at you.

"I've really missed them. I missed them so much. We won't let them disappear this time. We can't." He looks up into orange optics with a seriousness that would make most anyone shrink away. "Even if we have to put a leash-backpack-thing that human bitlets use, then so be it. But we can not let them out of our sight." He threatens before turning towards the berth. With a shiver and a light chuckle, Breakdown follows. Thank Primus you weren't awake to hear that, or you would have started fighting with the cherry red mech. Though he has kissed the sassy bickering, it's far too early in your return for an argument.

Later in the night, you wake up between them. 'When did I fall into recharge?' You muse. You lay there in thought, feeling their frames against your own. 'I'm never letting them out of my sight again, I'm staying with them even if it angers them' you settle your mind on that. Agreeing with yourself that you'll never leave their sides again.

"You're thinking too loud, go back to sleep." Knockout mumbles and presses his face into your neck. You turn towards him slightly but then settle back down with a hum. "Why do you feel so funny?" He inquires, "Just relax, would you? Stop overthinking."

"You don't have to worry," Breakdown stretches with a groan, "We're not going anywhere. Okay?"

"Okay." You whisper with a tired smile, your worries ebb away with their constant reassurance. You're happier, more comfortable than you've been in centuries, and it's because of these two mechs that have been missing for so long.

[auideas]

Can I use your hanahaki AU???? I promise I'll give you proper credits. I would be grateful if you'll agree.

Of course! Any and all prompts here on AUideas are fair game -- we've posted them with the intent to share and spark new ideas, so asking for permission is unnecessary. What we do ask, though, is that you make sure to credit us with the original concept so others can find us and be equally-excited about starting their own writing.

As a thank you, here's a list of some new and interesting Hanahaki Disease AUs!

Confused about what Hanahaki's is? Here's a link from Fanlore that explains it in more detail, but the TL;DR is that if Character A has an unrequited love / crush on Character B but Character B doesn't feel the same way, Character A's lungs will slowly fill with flowers until the petals expel from their mouth. Needless to say, this is usually deadly...

In a world where Hanahaki's Disease was spreading like wildfire, Character A watched the news as the CDC decreed a ban on social media for the safety of the public -- fans had been developing fatal cases of Hanahaki's Disease for celebrities and influencers who could never possibly love them back.

Character A has been inflicted with Hanahaki's Disease; they just couldn't control themselves, and when they see their crush (Character B) in public, Character A has an attack. When the petals are finally cleared away by passersby and they can draw in a strained breath, they look up from where they'd fallen and see that they're in the arms of Character B who stares down at them with conflicted eyes. Character B can't help but be concerned for Character A's safety, but the type of flower petal Character A is producing has their favorite scent, and it's taking everything they have to not see if Character A's mouth tastes as good as it smells.

As a divergence of the classic Hanahaki's Disease concept, this universe manifests certain flower types based on the quality of the crushee's heart; the worse a person they are, the more pain and torment the afflicted will experience (thorns, thick roots, putrid smells, etc.). This developed as a safety mechanism to help Hanahaki sufferers break off their obsession quickly, but some infatuations are hard to escape.

Characters A and B had been in a long, loving relationship with one another for years at this point, and they never thought they could be happier...that is, until Character B has a coughing attack in their bed. Character A rushes to their side and their eyes go wide when they see a single rose petal fall from their best friend's lips and into their palm. The room tenses.

As a last resort, some Hanahaki's Disease sufferers choose to sign up for a dating service that aims to specifically pair up Hanahaki's sufferers in the hopes they'll fall in love and be cured. Easier said than done, of course...

"Listen, officers, I know it's a CDC emergency, but whenever I fake a Hanahaki's attack in public, I just get so much sympathy from everyone around me. It's like...it's the only time I really feel loved, you know? I was about to fake another attack here on the street when I found them. I don't know if they're still breathing, but I tried to pull out as many petals as I could-- NO, I don't know their name, but LOOK! Their lips are even more blue than the stupid f*ckin' petals on the ground, so HELP THEM!!" AU

It was thought that when someone died with Hanahaki's Disease, they were all but cured since their love died with them. After the first few bodies were buried, though, flowers matching the ones that killed them always sprouted from their graves. Character A's job isn't to clean the stones or stop grave robbers -- their job is to monitor the Hanahaki remnants' growth, make observations, and categorize new flora.

Obsessed botanist and activist Character A purposefully infected themselves with Hanahaki's Disease, but not for sympathy. They sought out the off-chance that their blood, their body, and their very bones were special enough to warrant the growth of a rare, extinct plant that could save the world. And if they couldn't do it, well, then they'd just have to get creative.

Overseas factories were known for their poor conditions, but a whole new meaning was brought to the word when Hanahaki's Disease began spreading like wildfire. For a small paycheck, these factories would house Hanahaki's sufferers and collect their petals to use in perfumes, ceremonies, etc. With the fatality rate of the disease being so high, they have a hard time keeping their stock consistent (without some foul play, that is).

Looking for some more Hanahaki's Disease ideas? We've got you covered! Here, you'll find all our Hanahaki's Disease ideas; if you'd like even more, shoot us an ask.

Hope this helps out, and happy writing!

-- Admin M xx

[sonofthesaiyans]

To the gal who is most deserving of a second chance, Happy Birthday Ymir. 🎂

There is so much to be said about Ymir, she is without at doubt one of the most intriguing and and perplexing characters in Attack on Titan. There's so much we don't know about her, even her real name remains a mystery. For me, Ymir was set up to be a much bigger player in the war to unravel the mystery of the Titans, and her story to me is one that demands an urgent continuation in some form.

Ymir definitely holds a special place in the story, she often comes off as cold and distant, and one to take particular pleasure in messing with the few friends she has in the 104th. Her motivations are never clear and she's an incredibly hard person to read, but then again many of my favorites elsewhere also fit that bill. Her one constant companion is Historia, and to call them an odd couple would be a huge understatement. It is however very entertaining to see how they play off each other, with Historia constantly in a balancing act with Ymir's more jaded attitude towards all that's going down with the Scouts.

While Ymir may be cold, distant and detached a lot of the time, she isn't without heart and has come through for Historia and the others several times when it really mattered. She has been through hell and back, having easily one of the most messed up backstories of any of the Scouts. Literally everything Ymir knew from her past life in Marley is long gone, she doesn't even remember her own family. And was condemned to an existence by Marley that nobody should have to suffer. Ymir literally has nothing to lose, with the people of Paradis being the first chance she has had to escape her long personal hell.

Ymir as the Jaw Titan was an impressive reveal, and she could seriously have helped level the playing field against the Warriors and the Marleyans. Her unique bond with Historia would have been all the more interesting to see develop after Historia assumed her rightful place as the Queen of the Eldians. And let's be real, nobody wanted to see Historia end up with some nameless , faceless farmer who she may not even have been attracted to in the first place. Ymir and Historia both have similarly tragic backgrounds where they essentially had no family left to turn to, with only each other to fill the void. Theirs was a rocky relationship that nonetheless shone brightly......Certainly more than Eren and Mikasa ever did, and I stand by that, people.

For me personally, Ymir's long absence and ultimate fate was one of Titan's biggest bad calls, we all expected more. And we absolutely deserved more, she is undoubtedly one of the story's biggest missed opportunities. And now we're left to fill in the blanks as to what the full story behind her is.

There's something really compelling about Ymir, even at her worst she was still a good person deep down, and one who deserved that chance to escape the insanity that robbed her of so much. I wanted to see her relationship develop with the other Scouts, and to see how she evolved as the Jaw Titan. Feels like the story we should have gotten with all that was set up around her was sacrificed for something that denied her her chance to shine.

I want to know more about Ymir, I want to connect with her more strongly, I want to know what her whole story is and see what might have been. I think Ymir could've easily carried a plot of comparable caliber to Eren's. It was all there, they had everything they needed.....Now somebody needs to step in and do what Hajime Isayama failed to take advantage of. Show the man how it's REALLY done.

For now, best wishes to the girl who so richly deserved a second chance to live a life that was all her own, to find the freedom she never had. I only hope one day she truly does get another chance. 💚 ⚔️ 💚 ⚔️ 💚

And to close that out, a special shoutout to the incredibly talented Elizabeth Maxwell, who we have to thank for giving her voice to this amazing character. I can only hope she too might one day get another chance to do so again.

Thanks for the amazing picture, Liz! It was truly an honor to have shared our appreciation of Ymir with you. ❤️

[morganski-19]

I Don't Know Which Way's Home

Chapter 6: The Inspection

ao3 link, Part 1, Part 5

tw: descriptions of a minor panic attack

February 1984

Julie watched in horror as her journal was ripped in half by Matthew Anderson. The person who has been torturing her all year, but never stooped to this level. She could deal with the name calling, the pulling on her ponytails and braids, the balls of paper that would be thrown at her in the halls. That was just him being an idiot and picking on the poor kid.

This, this hit differently.

Her journals were her life. Stories written down that were fabricated from her mind or truth she was never able to fully speak. Worlds crafted and characters created. Places she’s always wanted to visit or things she’s always wanted to do. These journals made her days less lonely. Made her life feel fuller.

And now there it lays on the ground ripped into pieces, while Mathew and his friends laugh at her tears. Solemnly, Julie picks up the pieces of her book and runs away, scared that staying there for even a second more would bring on more taunting.

She runs to the back of the school and hides below a staircase, crying over her lost words. Stories jumbles together, pages ripped apart. Everything she’s worked so hard on teared apart in minutes.

“Hey, are you ok?” a boy with a black bowl cut wearing a sweater asks her.

Julie just looks back at the mess in her hands, overwhelmed by it all over again. “They ripped it apart,” she whispers. “Just took it from me an destroyed it.”

“Bullies, they’re just a bunch of mouth breathers,” the boy sits next to her. “It doesn’t look too bad, you could probably tape it back together.”

“Maybe, doesn’t make it the same, though.”

Julie’s mom told her that this journal was sent by her dad. Part of her knew it was a lie, but the innocent part of her really wanted to believe that it was true. This journal was special, it was her yearly gift from her dad. She would write stories in it about happy families, hoping that this magical journal would make her dad show up. That way her mom could be happy again, she could be happy too.

“What was it?” the boy asks.

Julie lines up the pieces of paper into a small, organized stack. “Stories. I like to write sometimes.”

“That cool. My friend likes to draw stories. He says that the best thing about them is how you can create them with your own mind, that way no one can ever really take them from you.”

“I never thought about it that way.” She looks at the piles of stories again and imagines them differently. Instead of ruined castles and homes, she sees rebuilding after a long battle. She sees hope. “Thank you.”

The boy shrugs. “I’m Mike, by the way.”

“Julie.”

. . .

Present Day

Steve hangs up the phone with the owner of Family Video, smiling to himself and can’t help himself from doing a small fist pump. He got the job. Which isn’t a lot, considering he can’t see himself doing it for the rest of his life, but it’s one step closer to passing this inspection.

The inspection has been looming over his head for the past week. After the meeting with the social worker, Steve has been working double to make sure the house was presentable, even if it wasn’t supposed to happen quite yet. Going through each drawer, making sure everything is in its place. Making a small box of all of his upside down related items to find a nice hiding place outside of his house so that they won’t be found.

It was a lot, but it was worth it. There would finally be somebody else living in this house, someone who was family. Another person filling the mass of rooms that stayed empty for his entire life. And by someone who would stay.

Or at least, stay for longer than a week.

This whole placement thing was still weighing over his head. If he was honest with himself, he wanted to one day get permanent custody of Julie, but that wouldn’t be for the best. With all that she’s been through, she deserved someone more stable than him. But he could provide her with a safe place to live where she actually liked, so that was enough.

And maybe when the time came to find a permanent placement, he would be stable enough to get it. If that ever would be a possibility.

But that would involve a better job than retail, his own place and not his parents. No more nightmares and a better explanation for his many scars. A less marked medical history and probably one less NDA than he has signed.

As much as Steve hoped, it didn’t seem feasible. It didn’t seem in reach. The family he’s found would leave again, and he couldn’t stop it. But he wanted to.

Eddie and Robin let themselves in through the front door, promising to help Steve get the house actually ready for the inspection. Since it’s in shambles from his weeklong obsessive searching for every possible thing that could be wrong. There were papers everywhere and things out of place. It needed to be put back together. And Eddie offered to hide out the upside down stuff at his new house, so that was helpful.

“Jesus, dingus,” Robin looks disgusted as she scans the mess, “the hell did you do?”

Eddie does a soft whistle, making his own observations. “Blew up in the living room?”

Steve sighs. “I know it’s bad. Just help, please.”

“Why we’re here.” Robin starts making small piles, organizing the mess.

Eddie grabs a few of the larger items, and brings them to the kitchen, placing them all on the table to be distributed later. Room by room they go through and put everything back to where it was, making sure nothing is out of place. Eventually it ends with Steve and Eddie in his room, gathering up some discarded clothing to be taken to the laundry room.

Steve is mentally checking off a list in his head, adding new things one after another of what he has to do. Clean the kitchen, clean the bathrooms, make sure the guest room beds are made and presentable, make sure there are no visible dangers in the house, check the railings for lose poles. Things he doesn’t even need to do but can’t help but think are necessary.

If this doesn’t go perfectly than what else is he supposed to do. Julie will be stuck in a terrible household until her social worker caves and moves her to another town. He’ll lose the only biological family that’s ever cared about him. All of this will have been for nothing. Julie will be let down and devastated, he’ll be devastated. It’ll all go terribly, and she’ll never talk to him again.

He'll be left alone in this house again. For God knows how long. He can’t move, can’t leave it behind for some reason. It just sits vacant with only him in it. And soon enough the kids will all go away to college, leaving him behind too. Robin will save enough money to go eventually too. Eddie will finally do what he always says and get the hell out of town. Leaving Steve in an empty house with no one around that loves him anymore.

A broken, empty house that has a million things wrong with it. So many things that this will never happen. They’ll see right through to the scared kid he still is but tries to hide. They’ll see the ghost that lives in his backyard. The pain and fear inside of him will come pouring out in the worst way possible. He’ll be deemed as unfit and this will all be for nothing. It’s always for nothing.

“Steve,” Eddie’s voice breaks through his thoughts. “Breathe. In, and out.”

Steve does what he said. Breathing deeply through his nose, not noticing how tight his chest had become. Breathing out through his mouth, hearing how shaky it is. He repeats it again and tries to stop the train on indefinite tracks in his mind, seemingly breaking off from itself and going in a million different ways. Each new branch clouding his thoughts and increasing the panic more.

“That’s good, now again.” Eddie breathes with him, making him hold his breath just slightly to help calm down his heartrate. He guides Steve to sit down on his bed, sitting next to him and taking his hand. Counting him through his breathes until the tightness alleviates, and he can breathe normally again.

“Thank you,” Steve breathes out, slouching a bit.

Eddie rubs his thumb across the back of Steve’s hand, squeezing it just slightly. Warmth radiating through the touch, making Steve want to lean in closer and absorb it.

“What’s wrong?” he asks softly.

Steve takes another deep breath through his nose. “What if this doesn’t work? What if I’m doing all of this for nothing?”

“You’re not,” he says pointedly. “Even if this doesn’t work out, it shows that you tried. That you care about her. Trust me, that means so much more than you realize. For both her and for the social worker. The courts might think differently if you want to take this further, but for temporary, you’re good. Ok?”

He meets Eddie’s eyes, immediately feeling the pull in them. “Ok,” he says, feeling himself start to get lost.

It takes a lot for Steve to let himself go around people, to put down his guard. But here in this moment, he would give it every single time just to get Eddie to look at him like this again. Just pure care in his eyes, gazing over Steve’s face to make sure everything’s ok. Wanting nothing more to this moment then to make sure he’s ok.

“What if everyone leaves me?” Steve whispers his fears so silently he hopes Eddie doesn’t hear. “Robin and the kids will head off to school. Julie will eventually too. And you’re never going to stay in this town. I’ll be all alone again.”

Eddie’s eyes meet Steve’s again and he lets out all the breath in his lungs. Just taken away by the simple beauty of Eddie’s face. He reaches up gently slides his hand across Steve’s neck, just barely cupping his chin. Steve leans into the touch, letting the warmth of Eddie’s hand ground him.

“I’m not leaving, not without you. Neither is Robin, and the kids will always come back. All of them will.”

Steve grabs Eddie’s wrist and holds his hand in place, letting himself sit in this moment. How he ever let himself say no to having this sooner, he doesn’t know. Because in this moment, there’s nothing more he wants then to lean in and capture Eddie’s lips with his. Take back everything he’s said and just dive in headfirst.

When Eddie’s eyes flick down to his lips just slightly, it makes it a million times harder for Steve to want to pull away. But he has to. This is the wrong time, there are things to do, he almost just went into a panic attack. Everything wants to stop him, but he can’t seem to listen to it. Slowly, he starts to lean in.

“Yo, dingus one and dingus 2, I can’t clean a house by myself,” Robin yells from behind the door, breaking the moment.

Steve pulls back, clearing his throat. “We’re coming, calm down.”

Before he can pull his hand away from Eddie’s, a small kiss is placed to the back of it. Warmth enveloping his hand before the coldness washes it all away when they let go. Soon, Steve promises. Soon he’ll be ready for this.

. . .

Julie is waiting in line at lunch when Dustin walks up to her. She rolls her eyes, ready to walk away before he can get in another line of questioning.

“Hi,” he states cheerily, with a stupid smile.

“Hi,” she responds crossly, hoping that it will show him that she’s not in the mood.

Dustin seems unaffected, continuing to follow her through the lunch line. “So, about a few days ago-.”

“It’s fine,” she cuts him off. “You were just curious about your friend. It’s fine.” Julie picks the last of her food and heads over to her usual table.

“I wanted to apologize,” Dustin follows. “I acted like a jerk, and I wanted to say that I’m sorry for making you uncomfortable.”

She sets her tray down on the table and looks at him. A sheepish expression paints his face, and an awkward stance almost as if he wants her to ask him to sit.

“I forgive you,” she says, taking a seat.

“Good,” he says, still standing there.

After their last meeting, he can’t think that she would have invited him to sit with her almost immediately after the apology. It took him a few days just to give it to her anyway, it’s not like she’s that hard to find. But then he was close to Steve, so she should at least try to get to know him. If everything is going to work out the way that they hope, Julie will be seeing a lot of him, and the other kids that he looks after.

“Is there anything else?”

“It’s just,” Dustin sits, without an invitation. “I can’t wrap my head around the idea of Steve having a sister.”

Julie stabs at her food. “Well, it’s true. Living proof right here.”

“No, yeah. I get that. I’ve just always known Steve to be an only child, like me. And now he’s not.”

“If it makes you feel better, he still kind of is. Our dad would rather pretend like I don’t exist.”

“So, you share a dad then?”

Julie stares across the table, “Really? You just apologized for the uncomfortable questions.”

Dustin squints his eyes again, before smiling. “I like you. Let’s start over. Dustin Henderson,” he extends his hand across the table. “Pseudo brother of Steve Harrington.”

“Julie Lawson,” she takes his hand warily and shakes it. “Half-sister of Steve Harrington.”

“That is still so weird,” he says, starting to eat his food.

. . .

“Harrington residence,” Steve mutters through the phone, filing through the mail as he does.

“Can you explain to me why your mother got a phone call last week about a job application of yours?” Richard Harrington speaks through the phone.

Steve’s body straightens on instinct with the voice, trained to present himself the best as possible. His mind races back to the resume he gave Keith, a revised one that he had applied with originally. But he forgot to take his mom off of the reference list when he added Hopper and Joyce. Her name was still there front and center.

“I had applied to be a manager at the video store I’m working at now. One is leaving and I thought I could take their spot.”

His father sighs through the phone. “Wishful thinking, Steven. You won’t just get jobs because you think you can take them. You must work hard for them.”

Steve’s mouth dries. “Well, I got the job. So, I must have worked hard enough for it.”

“Like you would know the meaning of hard work,” Richard chastises without missing a beat. “You didn’t even have to have a college degree to get this job. Those careers are never real hard work.”

Thoughts race in his mind but never reach the front for him to actually say them. His father doesn’t know how hard Steve’s works. Doesn’t know how much pain he’s been through. The thought hasn’t even crossed his mind that there are other things important in life other than work. Other than money.

But his dad will never understand. Never understand how much he’s truly failed in life. How much he’s failed Steve. So, Steve’s stays silent, like he always does.

“I thought you wanted me to understand the meaning behind hard work. That is what I am doing?”

“But for how long, Steven. How long are you going to go around and play the charade as if you are not a Harrington. You have a responsibility to me. To the family. Some day you are going to have to wake up and start your life, and we are not going to wait around forever for you to decide when that day is coming.”

Like you were ever here in the first place, Steve wants to say, but the words get stuck in his throat.

“Every time I think you have started to grow up you prove me wrong. You are still a child, Steven, and an immature one at that. Stop pretending that what you do doesn’t mean anything. Apply to schools again and get in this time. Get a real job, one that looks good on the family. We have a legacy that needs protecting, and you’re ruining it.”

Richard hangs up the phone before Steve can get a single word in.

He stands there for a few minutes, the buzzing from the phone line filling his ear. Stuck in the hopeless, fearful stance that happens after every phone call, every conversation. Every thought of his father that he has ever had.

Eventually, he hangs up the line. Eventually, he places his forehead against the wall and closes his eyes, letting them fill with tears. Letting them roll down his cheeks.

It took years for Steve to understand what he was meant to do and what he wanted to do. And even longer to understand that his father will never love him unless he did what he was meant to do. But every time he tried, he failed. Every time he did what he was told, what was planned, it never worked. It was never enough.

When the schools rejected him, he got a part time job. When Nancy and him ended, he went on the scheduled dates. When the world fucking ended and they weren’t here to witness it, he recovered in seclusion so nobody else would know. For his father. Always for his father and his fucking reputation. But it was never enough.

“You were never here,” Steve whispers to the wall. “You are never here.”

He stands straight again, taking a step back. Staring straight at the phone that his father spoke through however long ago.

“You don’t even know me.”

How can a parent know a child they didn’t even raise? How is a child supposed to live knowing their parents don’t love them? Questions with answers Steve’s been forced to answer. Questions that should have never even be asked.

Steve turns around to face the only family picture in the entire house. A professional taken when Steve was a child. His young face, innocent to what is to come, sits on his mother’s lap. All while his father looms in the background, standing behind them both, a hand on his mother’s shoulder.

“You know nothing about me,” Steve yells. “You have never stayed long enough to try. Not even once.”

Tears are streaming down his face, clouding his vision. His breath picks up, stuttering with sobs.

“I’m not ruining anything. You are the one ruining it. I have seen more than you can possibly imagine, and you call me immature. At least I wouldn’t cheat on my wife. At least I wouldn’t have another fucking kid and hide it from the world. Because I own up to my mistakes, I change. Despite you.”

Despite. Steve has become the person he is without his father’s influence. His proudest accomplishment. He has become the exact opposite of the man who he was supposed to be a clone of.

“Despite you,” he continues. “I found people who care about me. I’ve fought monsters, I’ve saved lives. Can you say the same? I’ve learned from my mistakes, I’ve changed. I’ve grown into a person that I actually like instead of hate. Because I hated myself when I was trying to act like you. And if you were actually here to see it, you would hate who’ve I’ve become. Because despite of you, I’ve become a better person that you could have ever hoped for me to be.”

Something heals itself inside of Steve. Something retreats. The little boy who he once was smiles at him, knowing that what he says is true.

Richard Harrington may have never stayed long enough to know his son. But that meant that his son never got to know anything about his father other than fear and disappointment. And through that disappointment, he grew. And there’s no turning back.

. . .

When Julie walks through the front door of Steve’s house, the lights are dark. It shouldn’t be surprising, she’s been there when he’s at work, but there’s mail on the hallway floor. She picks it up, stacking it gently on the hall table and continues through.

“Steve,” she calls out, walking into the living room. He’s sitting there in the dark, his elbows resting on his knees, face buried in his hands. “Shit, sorry. Do you have a migraine, I can leave.”

“No,” he says, lowering his hands, sitting up. “You’re fine.”

Something’s off. Steve’s hair is disheveled and there is slight redness around his eyes. A part of her wants to leave, let him be alone. He clearly was having some sort of moment. But when she thinks of this empty house, how empty it feels, she can’t leave him to it alone.

“Are you ok?” she asks quietly.

Steve scoffs, looking the other direction and shaking his head. “I’ve been better.”

She racks her brain of ways that her mom used to comfort her. The many things that failed, and how even when she tried her hardest, the sadness was still there. Talking about it always helped, though. Just to get the pain out of your system and have another person listen to it. For someone else to know your pain, for someone else to listen that it’s there.

It was never a lot, but it was something.

Julie walks over to the couch and sits on the cushion next to him. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Steve takes a moment before he finally says, “I know you probably got a lot of shit for not knowing your dad, and I know you probably wished you did on some level. But God am I jealous of you for never meeting him.”

“Is he really that bad?”

Steve leans back on the couch and crosses his arms, looking at the ceiling. “Yeah. But it’s more of the fact that I’ve never seen him long enough to know if he was any good.”

There was another thing that sometimes helped when she was feeling down. Similarities. People who could relate to her situation. Show that she wasn’t alone in the way she felt.

And while she couldn’t say that she knows exactly how Steve feels, but she can relate in her own way.

“When I was little,” she starts, “like really young, I would always ask when my dad would come home. When he would finally meet me. For a while, my mom would lie and tell me that my dad was in the army oversees, and that’s why he wasn’t around. And on Christmas, there would always be a gift that was from him. That was the most special present every year, because I could bring it in and prove to the other kids, to prove to myself, that I had a dad that loved me.”

She pauses, thinking back to the gifts that little her would line on her dresser. One for each year, each more special than the last. She would sit and stare at them, praying for a day where her dad would give them to her himself. Once she got older, the spell was broken. The lies were unraveled, and her world was shattered.

“Of course, I didn’t know they were really from my mom at the time. When I found out, I took everything that I thought was from him and put it in a box and went straight out to the dumpster. I wanted to throw them out, cry over the child that believed so hard for something that was never there. But I didn’t. After the lies faded, they were still gifts from one of my parents, it just happened to be my mom.”

The box still sat in her room for years later. Gifts that she couldn’t bear to give away, because it just proved how much her mom loved her. She pretended every year that Julie’s father was still around, just to give her daughter a sense of normalcy. Julie never appreciated it at the time, not until it was too late.

“I guess I’m trying to say that there’s sometimes a little good that comes from the bad. My dad was never around, and after a while, I didn’t want him to be. But my mom was. And those presents made me appreciate her more that she was.”

When she looks over at Steve, he’s looking back at her with a thoughtful look on his face. “She sounded great.”

She looks away from Steve for fear of crying.  “She was.”

“I’m sorry you lost her, I don’t think I ever said that.”

Julie has become so used to people saying sorry that the words don’t even affect her that much anymore. Not like they did a month ago. Everyone is sorry, but there’s nothing anyone can to do fix it.

“What’s your good?” she looks back at him.

Steve sighs, taking a moment to think. “Younger me would always wonder why he was never around, why he was never the one who raised me. But looking back, I’m sort of glad he didn’t. That way I turned out to be a better person than he was. He couldn’t raise me to be just like him. Even if he still tries.”

“Is that why all the lights are off, because he’s trying to?”

“Yeah, got a phone call from him today. Told me I was a disappointment because I got the manager job at Family Video.”

Julie sits up. “Oh my god. You got it. That’s great.”

“Not for him and his stupid legacy,” Steve grumbles, repeating what she can assume are his father’s own words.

“Forget him,” She insists. “This isn’t about him, it’s about you. You wanted the job, right?”

Steve shrugs. “Yeah. I did.”

“Then be proud of it. You got what you wanted. Not because of him, because of you. You did that. Own it.”

He smiles. “I guess I did do that.”

“Not guess, did.”

“Whatever,” he laughs, the mood in the room shifting. “Thank you.”

She shrugs, “What are no longer estranged siblings for?”

He snorts. “Cheering each other up about their same shitty dad, apparently.”

“Yeah, apparently.”

. . .

“Well, I think I’ve seen all of the house that I need to,” Sarah concludes, crossing something off on the clipboard she’s carrying. “There is just one more interview that we need to do.”

A slight weight lifts off Steve’s chest, just a slight one. The house inspection has been one of the most nerve-racking things in his life. Someone going through every room in his house and asking questions about the most random things. Looking at his life in one of the most personal ways possible.

“Ok,” Steve responds. “We can head to the kitchen if you’d like.”

Sarah nods and follows him to the kitchen, getting herself ready at the table.

“Would you like anything to drink?” Steve offers. She politely declines.

He sits across from her as she pulls out a file. Glancing quickly at the name and seeing his own across the tab. Papers filled with information about him. He doesn’t know how much she can get before he turned eighteen, but there was plenty past then that he hopes she has no access to.

The NDAs he’s had to sign especially. He might be legally required not to talk about them, but the fact that he has them at all could be concerning. But those records would be sealed, right?

“So, Steve, you live in this house alone?”

“For the most part. My parents also live here but haven’t been back in at least a year and a half.”

He remembers that because they showed up for his graduation. Most kids went out to dinner to celebrate the day. Steve had to sit through a lecture on how he was going to fix the fact that he didn’t get into any colleges.

She nods and glances over the papers in front of her again. Each second without a question making his pulse speed up.

“That’s a long time to be away from the house. Do you take care of all the needs while they are away?”

Steve nods. “Yes. I have been given the rights to upkeep the house. So, paying all of the bills on time, making necessary purchases, making sure everything is up to date and replacing anything that isn’t.”

“And how long have you been doing that?”

He has the strong urge to lie but thinks that could be dangerous. But what is worse, saying that he’s only been doing it for two years, or since he was sixteen.

“I started to take over some of these responsibilities when I was sixteen. But that was mostly the financial stuff. Other normal chores I’ve been doing for longer.”

Sarah makes an almost startled look before writing something down in her notes, flipping to the next page before continuing her questions. Asking how long his parents would normally be away. If there was any change they would come home in the near future. How frequent these trips were and when did they start.

“What I am getting here is you know the financials and other necessities of keeping a good house very well, Steve,” she says with a hint of concern. “Even before you became a legal adult.”

If she only knows the things he’s done, the things he’s seen before becoming a legal adult. “Yes, that’s true.”

“Alright, let’s move on to the rest of the basic questions.”

She asks him if there are any weapons in the house. Basic safety questions to ensure that the house is fit. Then moves on to asking about him. When he graduated high school, where he works. What he likes to do in his free time. What his strengths and weaknesses are. General interview questions to get a better assessment of his personal life.

“You’re doing fine, Steve. You can calm down,” she jokes, marking one last thing before moving on to the last question.

He laughs. “Was it that obvious?”

She nods. “It always is. I just have a few more questions for you and I will leave you be.”

“Alright,” he rubs his palms gently against his jeans.

“Why do you think you would be the right placement for Julie?” She asks it with a smile, trying to make him feel safe but her words only making him panic.

He takes a moment to settle himself, try to think of what to say without it being jumbled. All the reasons seem obvious but not enough. To get her out of a house she hates. To give her a home where she feels safe. Be able to help get her through the rest of her schooling and help her go to the college she wants. Support her through the rest of her life, even if it isn’t permanent.

To finally be able to have the family he’s always wanted.

“I want her to be able to have a home that she feels safe coming home to. For her to have somewhere that feels like a home, that feels like a family. When we first met, I didn’t know what was going to come of it. But I knew I wanted to help her.”

He takes a deep breath, trying to figure out the best way to put it.

“My father is a difficult man. He’s done a lot of things in his life that I don’t approve of, or would repeat. And I couldn’t help but think that I had to help her. She was a victim of his mistakes, something I knew how to manage. So, I got to know her. I reached out and waited for her to make the decision if she wanted to get to know me. And she did.”

Steve thinks back to the first few moments of meeting her. The sorrow for him in her eyes that came with the information she’d given him. Not even realizing that she’d given him the one thing he’s begged for since he was little. A sibling. He’d be stupid not to try to get to know her.

“I know I’m not what you normally see when it comes to potential guardians. And I know that there are people that are going to tell you that this is a bad idea. You might even think it yourself, without them telling you. But I care about Julie, and I want to make sure she’s in a house that can provide for her. That loves her. And if I’m not the best fit for it, if there’s someone better, I’m not going to stop it. But she seems to really like it here, she comes over almost every day. And it might just be because she doesn’t like that other house, but I can’t help but think that she likes it here. That she feels comfortable with me.”

Sarah places down her pen and looks at him, fully paying attention to what he is saying. It only makes him feel like he’s saying the right thing.

“All I want is to make sure she’s taken care of. That she’s getting what she needs to survive through this change. I want to be there for her while she grieves her mom. Even though she tries to hide how bad it is. I want to make sure that she can go to the college she wants to. I want to make sure that she’s happy. And even if you tell me this isn’t possibly, that I’m not the right fit for her. I’m still going to be there for her, because I want to be her family. Whatever that means for us.”

All Sarah does is smile and close the file in front of her. “I think that answered the rest of the questions I had for you. You did very well.”

“Thank you,” he sighs in relief. “When will I figure out your decision.”

“Well, I have one last interview to do with Julie, but soon. We’re moving quicker than normal as the state of that house she’s currently placed in is not meeting my standard. They won’t be fostering for us anymore after this,” she adds as if she isn’t supposed to tell him. “You should be hearing from me within the next week or so.”

Only a few more days until he figures out if this was all for nothing.

“Thank you, for even considering this,” he says while walking her out.

“It is always a priority for me to look at family members, especially those who care as much as you do.” She holds out her hand and he shakes it. “It was a pleasure meeting with you again, Steve.”

With that, she walks out the door and the inspection ends. Leaving him with what feels like misplaced hope starting to flutter in his chest. He might have actually pulled this off. Just might.

Tag list(let me know if you want to be added or removed): @homoerotictangerine, @mugloversonly, @thesuninyaface, @imyelenasexual, @anaibis, @ilovecupcakesandtea, @brainsteddielyrotted, @jackiemonroe5512, @eddie-munsons-missing-nipple, @goodolefashionedloverboi, @cinnamon-mushroomabomination, @lolawonsstuff, @writingandmushroomdragons, @stevesbipanic, @sierra-violet, @steddie-as-they-go, @dauntlessdiva, @mousedetective, @the-daydreamer-in-the-corner, @zombiethingy, @connected-dots-st-reblogger, @that-agender-from-pluto, @allyricas, @cheddartreets, @devondespresso, @crypticcorvidinacottage, @queenie-ofthe-void @chronicpainstevetruther, @cheddartreets, @theupsidedownrealestateagent, @acidbubblegummie, @sirsnacksalot, @l0st-strawberry, @helpimstuckposting, @strawberry-starss, @freddykicksasses, @italianwhore1, @i-threw-my-name-out-the-window, @rageagainsttheapathy, @nuggies4life, @ape31, @whimsicalwitchm, @chrissycunninghamfanblog, @michellegilligan, @hippielittlemetalhead, @bridget-malfoy-stilinski-hale, @jaytriesstuff, @confused-stripes, @faeb1tch42069, @marklee-blackmore, @hel-spawn, @genderless-spoon, @mamafaithful, @estrellami-1, @starryeyedpoet17 @i-amthepizzaman, @lilpomelito @melonmochi

[nytb]

Qualifiers

This is part of the Christmas Challenge🎁. Go check out @httplilyyy's story posted earlier today! And stick around, @putellas11's story will be up shortly!

Unlike most games, this one was extra special for you. The first time you faced a WSL team since you left Chelsea.

This was it. The Champions League anthem blasting in the Di Stefano. 22 players walking into the pitch. 2 teams going up against each other, only one would come out victorious.

Only one would qualify for the Champions League.

Starting off on the bench, you lived the game through the fans. The chants. The atmosphere. It was shaping up to be a great game.

On the pitch, it was quite the different story. A match very much leveled. Two opponents going at each others throats, without a goal to their name.

A Manchester City defense that was very much switched on, keeping players like Esther and Athenea away from clear chances. On the other end, Misa kept Real Madrid in the game, keeping her clean sheet.

Half time came. The scoreline, 0-0.

The manager knew things had to change, so he called upon the bench. Bringing Weir and yourself in for the second half.

Walking out to the tunnel, the Manchester City players saw you ready to be subbed in. Shocked, afraid, scared. You sure knew how to bring back memories from your Chelsea days, the City players sure thought so. But, there was one specific player. One player who seamed to be indifferent. Leila Ouahabi. She was pure eye candy. Looking you up and down, no friendly smile, no affection left for you.

You took your spot in line, ready to run onto the pitch. Ready to kick some ass, but your eyes. Your eyes wondered to the enemy.

"Like the sight huh" bold of Leila, nothing shocking coming from a woman like herself.

Trying to contain the butterflies flying inside your stomach, you left your own sting on the spaniard "Don't worry hun, I'll take it easy on you" winking suggestively at her.

The match sure got more interesting. Real Madrid were playing some of their best football. Attacking from all sides. On the other hand, Manchester City were struggling.

The goal was inevitable. It was coming. But one player kept making the difference when Real Madrid got in front of goal. The number 15: Leila Ouahabi.

The 1v1 between Athenea and Leila wasn't favoring Real Madrid, so the coach made more changes, signaling you to switch over to Athenea's wing.

"Switch with me" an order Athenea didn't fight. Her tango with Leila was costing too much already.

Once again, the defender looked you up and down "And you think that you can get past me". An attempt to throw you off your game.

"Underestimate me. That'll be fun". Famous last words.

Oh and famous they were.

The tango you danced with the Spaniard was merciful. Both of you gave the fans a spectacle, between the dribbles, the slide challenges, the blocked shots: the game was being played on your wing. Once you got your groove on, you were impossible to defend.

Real Madrid's goals came soon after. One after another. 2-0 up and 15 minutes left to go, the duel between the two of you was amazing to watch.

"Not so fun now huh" mocking the defender wasn't a wise idea, but the look. The look she gave you. Something between I want to murder you and I'm taking your clothes off after this.

Manchester City started to wake up again, bringing themselves to score twice in the last minutes of the game. An assist from the defender accompanied by a brace from Deyna.

Sadly, it was too little, too late.

The final whistle blew. Real Madrid 3 - Manchester City 2. A great game indeed. Full of individual battles. A true qualification. Real Madrid had earned their way into the Champions League group stage.

A biter sweet moment for you. Some old colleagues in tears, your new teammates filled with joy.

"You girls will do great in the league" you sat down next to the spaniard, consoling her on the defeat "It was a great match" you added, hoping a smile would creep into the defenders face.

"You were good out there" she replied "Swap jerseys with me?". Now that was unexpected.

Nonetheless, it was a request you weren't willing to turn down. Helping the woman up from the floor, you took your jersey off. The Spaniard's eyes traveled along the curves of your body. Your now exposed abs. The veins on your arms. She got a good look at you.

"Now who's enjoying the sight" you joked grabbing the woman into a hug, getting close enough to whisper "Btw, I look better under hotel room lighting"

Not only did Real Madrid win, but so did you.

Leila Ouhabi sliding into your Instagram dms sure indicated that.

You didn't take long to open the message, an invitation to food. The woman sure knew the way to your heart.

[tgrailwar-zero]

As you severed your ties to the Blue Faction, something felt different. AVENGER felt different.

Distant.

Further away.

CONDUCTOR continued to fragment and glitch, his presence becoming less and less tangible before vanishing entirely. His form, his voice-- gone, nothing more than malignant data festering inside AVENGER.

As the silence settled, another voice filled in the space, sardonic and coy.

"You know, I don't exactly have much experience with Western warfare, but I have to give my props to Greece and their Trojan Horse."

With light, casual steps, CASTER emerged. Her expression was cool and aloof, the hem of her kimono drifting against the grass as AVENGER was stuck. Paralyzed. Helpless, in every sense.

"My allies wondered of the effectiveness of my plan. To suppress the memories and abilities of an enemy Servant, as well as carefully install an A.I virus based on the fragmented memories that the enemy had left. They thought it easier to just kill Avenger. In most cases, I would agree, but… well, this is a much deeper than just Avenger."

She let out a long, dramatic sigh.

"Blame you for the a problem that I set in the first place. 'Botching the summoning', then offering a solution. Ah, but where are my manners. Congratulations, Avenger, let me fix that little 'memory issue'. Though it doesn't really matter. You're nobody special, just a murderer. A failure who only has a legacy for killing talent."

AVENGER collapsed to his knees as CASTER snapped her fingers. Unceremoniously, memories flooded back as he gripped his head, frothing at the mouth as information continued to pour in, the floodgates opened without any care.

CASTER continued to gloat.

"Aw, he's in pain. And it's all your fault. What horrid Masters you all are."

With a tonedeaf chime, several statuses made themselves known.

[ AVENGER's True Name Unlocked! AVENGER's HP set to 1! AVENGER's MP set to 1! AVENGER's contract has been severed from his Masters! ]

She continued talking past AVENGER's pained screams, as if they were nothing but ambiance.

"My main concern was MoonCancer. I mean, her presence is a bit of an anomaly to begin with, but she's a talented hacker. I would have lost everything if she poked around at my virus. Well, not everything, but this little plan would have been foiled. Luckily, you all didn't even need my help running away from her."

With an airy chuckle, she swatted away the attempt like one would swat away flies.

"How cute."

She lilted, with a smirk.

"Unfortunately, he's mine now. You severed your ties to him and his team, remember? All that's left is the data I left behind."

"And my favorite part? I didn't have to make you do anything. Feed the right words, and you scrambled away from the closest ones you had to allies. I thought that severing your Blue Faction ties would at least cause you to hesitate, and yet you burst full speed ahead! Attacking your own allies, ignoring their pleas for you to stop, after they kept giving you the benefit of the doubt! And you still wanted to feed on their kindness, like parasites. Ah, they should be giving me a medal, honestly. I'm doing them a favor."

She dropped her veneer of elegance for a moment, bursting out in a loud, boisterous cackle, before stepping close and placing a hand on AVENGER's shuddering chest.

"But now, the contract has been severed. You're no longer Masters. No longer part of this War. No stakes. No purpose. No Servant to serve as your contact to this world. Why destroy you, when I can simply nudge you into oblivion? You'll live as long as this world does, just without any way to experience it."

She did it slowly, with intent. Slowly picking away at each thread connecting you and AVENGER.

Again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. …And again.

As he was pushed further, and further from you.

The last thing you heard, as she gently cupped AVENGER's head in her hands- the pain now having driven him to completely fall unconscious- and her villainous monologue finally inching to a close was her sneering voice.

"Don't worry, I'll take good care of him while you're gone. Rider too."

This was, without a doubt, a…

.

..

...

....

.....

......Ugh. Dammit.

'A NARRATING VOICE': "In other words, you beefed it. Screwed up. Shat the bed. Back to start, do not pass go. Et cetera. …Yeesh."

[meximango]

Day 23 - On Cloud Nine - Cahsi/Y’shtola - PG

Spoilers for the Dawntrail raid series.

Summary: Cahsi gets a bit loopy during Honey B. Lovely’s battle.

“Hope you’re ready for me to steal your heart!” The twang in the Arcadion idol’s voice was like something out of Shaaloani, but sounded like the idol was putting too much effort into it. Cahsi wouldn’t have called it sexy or alluring, exactly, but whatever Honey B. Lovely did with a flick of her wrist seemed to throw an enchantment over the field that certainly changed her mind a little. Oh, so it was going to be one of those fights. 

With such inspired move names as ‘love me tender’ and ‘loveseeker’, the entire battle seemed to be riffing on this theme.

“Now to savor the sweet sting of Honey B.’s charms. Oh she’s definitely feeling your love!” the announcer rang out as a pink, smoky haze covered Cahsi and the holograms she’d summoned to help her with the fight. The special effects during these fights were a treat meant to entertain the adoring fans, but they doubled as a helping guide that clued her in on what was about to happen and what to do. It would be the idol’s downfall.  

An image appeared over the red mage’s head: three empty heart containers. Well, wasn’t that adorable? Cahsi was reminded of when she had to fight the primal Lakshmi, ages ago, and hoped it wouldn’t end up like that again. It had taken her a week to get that cloying perfume scent out of her clothes and hair!

“Can the challenger resist the irresistible? I know I can’t!” Metem continued to drive the crowd wild with his commentary. The arena was filled with people dressed up like Honey B. Lovely, decked out in black and yellow, bee wings, and proudly holding up signs declaring their love. Cahsi wondered how much was the charismatic persona that drew people in, or if she just threw this spell on the regulars to keep them coming back. 

An unavoidable pink heart appeared above her, exploding into a fresh dust of perfume and charm. Cahsi felt herself slipping away a bit as one of the hearts on her gauge filled up. She couldn’t help but gaze at Honey with a bit more adoration, her attacks becoming just the slightest bit more sluggish and weak.

Cahsi was impressed despite herself. Honey B. Lovely had a great thing going on here. Cahsi herself was familiar with adoring fans. It was one of the perks of being the infamous Warrior of Light–though the people in Solution 9 did not know of her reputation. She was a nobody here, until she defeated Black Cat in the first round. She was just an up-and-coming underdog, here, which was both funny and refreshing.  She didn’t want admirers getting too in her space all the time, but she’d always craved attention, and it was strange having most of the arena ignore her in lieu of the bug lady. Though to be fair, said bug lady had some knock-out gorgeous legs. Those heels were doing something to her…

Focus!

 Cahsi dragged her gaze away to instead look at the small section of the seating area that was dedicated to her own cheering fans: her friends. They all waved at her, cheering her on–with Raha and Lamat’yi competing for the loudest. Even her lovely Shtola seemed to be having fun, if the expression on her face was anything to go by. It screamed ‘kick this bee’s ass’, so that’s just what Cahsi intended to do. The only sexy thigh-high boots Cahsi wanted to unlace with her teeth belonged to her partner, Shtola. This idol was nothing!

Cahsi fought the good fight, but Honey B. Lovely was quite the dominant fighter. She kept forcing her into corners. If she didn’t take this tower, the entire arena would explode, and she just did not have the fortitude to take that head on, so she was forced to soak up another heart to avoid having to forfeit.

“Alas, her charms were not to be denied!” 

Thanks, Metem. As though she couldn’t feel her limbs become even more heavy, her head filled with cotton and her vision sparkling at the edges. Honey’s skin was so smooth and perfect, and that peek at her midriff was so delectable…

Meanwhile, even the idol’s theme music was taunting her: “B. mine forever, and always play your part! / B.-fore it's over / I'll capture your heart! “

Of course, it was in the middle of this that Honey B. Lovely decided she had to up her game. She threw out an assault of floating hearts that acted like homing missiles, blew kisses that took up entire swathes of the arena, and threw love bombs from above, whose radius of effect varied in size. Cahsi, who was stuck close to her opponent thanks to her melee combo, had very little room to maneuver. She could have tried to disengage, but that would have lost her precious attack time, and she was just as likely to backflip directly into an attack anyway. She kept fighting, putting as much aether as possible into her verholy, scorch, and resolution. 

That’s ok, Cahsi still had one empty heart displayed over her head. So long as this wasp didn’t send anything too crazy at her, she could still get through this. The idol was flagging, herself, showing signs of weakness. Cahsi guessed if she could get up to a third level limit break, she had this in the bag. With back-to-back casts of embolden and manafication, Cahsi leapt forward for a flurry of swipes with her rapier, starting a devastatingly powerful combination of melee attacks and magic.

“I’ll make you mine, darlin’!” The idol mocked her as she saw that Cahsi wouldn’t be able to move out of the way of at least one of these hearts, no matter what fancy footwork she tried to pull out.

The message appeared overhead for all the audience to see as she got hit with one final heart: The challenger is head over heels for Honey B. Lovely… Unable to move, all Cahsi could do was sway and gaze adoringly at the queen bee in front of her. Screw being in Solution 9, she felt like she was walking on cloud nine right now. It was so nice. Her vision had a pink filter over it. She had never seen such a beautiful specimen in front of her. If she gave up now, maybe the idol would take her into her arms and smother her with her bosom. It wouldn’t be a bad way to lose…

Distantly, she heard her friends trying to snap her out of it with their shouts. Especially as Honey B. Lovely was gathering power for a finishing move that would certainly throw Cahsi out of the tournament.

“Here comes her fearsome venom strike!” came out over the speakers. The audience gasped, knowing exactly what that meant. It seemed Cahsi didn’t have much time left to end this. 

Some of her most steadfast fans booed at Cahsi’s victory, but most of the crowd went wild with applause. Cahsi curtsied, took a bow, and ran off to go find her friends as soon as Metem was done announcing her victory and information about the next challenger Cahsi would have to face on the upcoming night.

“No hard feelings if I kill you?” Miss Lovely’s cackling laughter was so menacing and degrading, but that only made it more of a turn-on. Whatever her opponent had in store for her, Cahsi didn’t care. The danger was alluring. It had to be what was best, and she welcomed it with open arms–

Ouch! It wasn’t until blue magic entered the corners of her vision, overpowering the pink, that brought her out of it. A few tiny familiars that took the familiar visage of drippy–certainly Shtola’s doing–had pinched her ears and slapped her cheeks. They shimmered, delicate and nearly see-through. Certainly it was cheating to allow the audience to help, but Shtola’s magics were easily overlooked against all of Honey’s flashy pink spells and glaring lights. Metem made no announcements about it, and the idol wasn’t screeching about unfairness yet, so the referee must not have noticed the little water familiars that helped her out. Cahsi motioned for them to settle down in her collar, completely out of sight. She wasn’t taking any chances.

“What? Oh, you’re kidding me, it didn’t work?!” Honey finally realized the glazed over expression had left Cahsi’s face. That’s right, her opponent was no longer peering up at her like a delectable steak; instead a determined scowl took over the miqo’te’s features. The idol seemed highly surprised that the spell wore off so quickly. This might be one of the first times her victim got away in time. Too bad for her, the move she was powering up for with her poison stinger couldn’t be interrupted.

Now look who’s stuck!

Luckily, Cahsi’s holographic helpers had helped her charge her limit break while she was down for the count. She heard the telltale ping that marked the third and final level had charged up. “It’s been nice, darlin’, but I think it’s time you buzzed off!” Cahsi shouted as she blasted the bee with everything she had. Once the blinding white light died down, Honey B. Lovely was just a crumpled form on the ground. Her beast soul charge had worn off, and she was back to just being a normal hyur woman.

Cahsi launched herself at Shtola as soon as she could find her group of friends, crushing her in a hug. “Thanks, babe!” She peppered her face with smooches, causing her partner to laugh. Her little summons poked out of Cahsi’s collar, seeming to seek affection of their own, so Cahsi obliged and provided them with much tinier smooches of their own. They giggled and danced, then dissipated when they’d had enough. “I admit, I may have been a bit jealous of all the attention you were giving that idol. She seemed too cutesy for your usual type.”

“Oh, you know how those charm magic types are. But believe me, you don’t need those types of spells to sweep me off my feet, honey!” She threw a leg around Shtola’s waist, allowing her to support her weight. Her partner raised an eyebrow, but didn’t let her fall.

The friend group who’d been watching and waiting to congratulate her coughed awkwardly. Cashi was always publicly affectionate with those she cared about, but she normally didn’t try to climb her partners like trees in the middle of a busy plaza. “Ah heh heh... It must be a side effect of that magic, still. Everything is a bit softer on the edges. I’m craving affection.”

Shtola leaned down to murmur quietly, “The others can wait. Why don’t we away to a private inn and help you work off the rest of the magic, hmm? A proper celebration of your victory.”

Cahsi’s face turned pink enough that the rest of the group could certainly guess as to what the black mage had whispered into their warrior of light’s ear. “I…I have to go, everyone! Just me and Shtola!” Their friends waved them off without much fuss, muttering about how they’d buy her a drink and catch her later. 

[sparrow-mask22]

The Umbrella Academy Story of The Mothers (3/6) sparrow edition: Carla

TW: childbirth, mentions of an orca attack, mentions of death, injuries from orca attack.

another thing to note is that this story takes place at Loro Parque and SeaWorld is mentioned as well, I do not support the abuse they inflict on their animals or the dangers they’ve put their employees in.

on another note the following quote: "Carla, art thou crazy!? These are orcas! They are not puppies; they are the ocean's most feared apex predators! What art thou doing? We command thee to come out of the water this instant!" is originally from a fanfic I read on fimfiction.net that I thought was so funny I incorporated it here, no disrespect to the original author. The fic is called "A Heart Like the Sea" for anyone interested

Also, any and all information I have on Loro Parque is from the Blackfish documentary on Netflix

October 1, 1989. Puerto de la Cruz on Tenerife, Spain. 19 seconds before noon.

Carla Abasolo was a 24-year-old orca trainer at Loro Parque, a popular animal theme park in Tenerife, Spain. She had always been fascinated by marine mammals and had dreamed of working with them since she was a little girl. Today was no exception as she arrived at work, her excitement palpable. As she walked through the park, she could hear the sounds of the animals, the laughter of children, and the splashes of water from the various pools and exhibits. The air was filled with a mix of salt and chlorine, and the warmth of the sun on her skin made it feel like she was on a never-ending vacation.

(If any of you can guess the reference behind her name, I'll be quite impressed. It's not something super obvious, but it's something that means a lot to me.)

Carla had performed with the orcas several times before, but today was different. Today, she felt a special connection with the lead female, whom she had named Kailani. Kailani was a stunning creature, with a sleek black body and a distinctive white patch above her eye. She moved gracefully through the water, her powerful tail flukes propelling her forward with ease. As Carla approached the pool, she could see Kailani swimming back and forth, her eye occasionally meeting Carla's, as if she knew something was about to happen.

Carla gently placed her foot on and off Kailani's rostrum as they glided across the water, the orca's powerful muscles carrying them effortlessly. She could feel the warmth of the sun on her back and the spray of the water against her face. It was a surreal experience, being so close to such a magnificent creature. Kailani was more than just an animal to her; she was a friend, a confidante, a partner. They had spent countless hours together, training and playing, and Carla had come to understand the orca's language, her body language and vocalizations.

It was a great job. Not counting the occasional orca that had gone rogue and had to be put down, of course. But even then, the animals were still so fascinating, so awe-inspiring, that Carla couldn't help but feel a sense of reverence and respect for them. She knew that Kailani, with her intelligence and grace, was something truly special.

They continued to swim together, their movements fluid and effortless. Carla could feel Kailani's strength beneath her, and she marveled at the orca's ability to control her own body in the water. They rose and fell together, cresting the waves and plunging back down into the depths. The sun beat down on them, and the air was filled with the scent of salt and seaweed.

Carla's superior, Miguel, approached her with a worried expression. "Carla, I need to talk to you. I don't think it's safe for you to continue swimming with Kailani after what happened at SeaWorld. An orca killed one of its trainers, and I can't afford to lose another staff member."

Carla felt her heart sink. She knew that Kailani was different, that she wouldn't hurt her, but the thought of being kept away from the beautiful orca was unbearable. "But Kailani would never hurt me, Miguel. She knows I'm her friend. We've been through so much together. She wouldn't--"

Miguel cut her off, his expression unyielding. "I understand that you think you know her, but we can't take that chance. We have to put safety first. You can still work with Kailani, just not in the water. You're too important to lose." Carla felt a lump forming in her throat as she struggled to find the words to convince him.

Kailani, sensing the tension between them, swam closer to Carla, nudging her gently with her rostrum. The orca's large, intelligent eyes seemed to plead with her to intervene. Carla reached out and stroked the soft skin beneath Kailani's chin, feeling the powerful muscles beneath her hand. She knew that Kailani would never intentionally hurt her.

"You’ll have to start relying on verbal commands more, Carla," Miguel said, his voice tense but understanding. "We can't afford for anything like that to happen here." He gestured to Kailani, who was still swimming calmly beside them. "You've always had a special bond with her, but we can't take that bond for granted. Not anymore."

Carla felt the weight of his words, but she couldn't bring herself to pull away from Kailani. The orca seemed to sense her distress, and she swam closer, nudging her gently with her rostrum. The touch was reassuring, almost comforting.

"Kailani and I have been through so much together," Carla said, her voice barely above a whisper. "We understand each other. I know she would never hurt me."

Miguel sighed, his expression softening slightly. "I understand that you feel that way, but I can't take the risk. We need to prioritize safety for everyone involved." He gestured toward the pool, where Kailani continued to swim gracefully, her dorsal fin cutting through the water with ease. "You're too important to lose, Carla. You're the heart and soul of this project."

Carla felt a lump form in her throat, but she forced herself to nod in agreement. She knew that Miguel was only looking out for her, and for the well-being of the entire team. She just wished there was some other way to keep them all safe. As she watched Kailani swim away from her, a pang of loss shot through her chest.

Paloma, a senior trainer at the Sea Life Park, spoke up, her voice steady despite the weight of her words. "Carla, I know this must be hard for you. We all feel for you, but Miguel is right. We can't take any chances. We have to prioritize safety, not just for you but for Kailani too." She gestured to the orca, who was still swimming nearby, her movements fluid and graceful. "You've been through so much together, and you've built an incredible bond. But we can't forget that Kailani is a wild animal, and she has the strength and power to hurt us if she feels threatened."

Carla nodded slowly, her eyes never leaving Kailani. "I know," she said softly. "But I can't help but feel like I'm losing a part of myself if I can't swim with her anymore." She sighed heavily, her shoulders slumping. "It's like being apart from my best friend."

Paloma immediately got her serious voice on. "Carla, art thou crazy!? These are orcas! They are not puppies; they are the ocean's most feared apex predators! What art thou doing? We command thee to come out of the water this instant!"

Carla sighed, feeling a mix of annoyance and amusement at Paloma's dramatic tone. "I'm just trying to understand Kailani," she explained, her voice shaky. "I know she wouldn't hurt me."

Paloma took off her boot and rolled up her pant leg, revealing her entire calf covered in a network of scars. "See this?" she asked, pointing to a particularly deep gash. "This is what happens when you get too close to one of these creatures. I was just a young trainer on my first day, and Kailani's father, Rorke, took a dislike to me. He bit me like I was nothing but a piece of fish. If it weren't for Miguel and the rest of the team, I would have bled out right there in the pool." Her voice hardened, and her eyes flashed with anger. "You think you know Kailani? You think you understand her? You're wrong. These are wild animals, and they can turn on you in an instant. You can never trust them."

(Please keep in mind, all of the orcas at Loro Parque are trained using SeaWorld's controversial behavior modification techniques, so SeaWorld is responsible for any aggressive or protective behavior they exhibit.)

Carla looked horrified at the sight of Paloma's injury, her eyes wide with shock and disbelief. "I-I'm sorry, Paloma. I didn't know..." she stammered.

"Well, now you know," Paloma said harshly, pulling her leg back and refastening her boot. "And you should remember that every time you step into that pool with Kailani." She turned away from Carla, her shoulders slumping slightly as she realized the impact of her words.

Three other trainers, Lola, Esperanza, and Yolanda, rushed forward once they caught wind of the confrontation. They were all in their mid-twenties, and they had been working with the orcas for several years. Each of them had their own stories to tell about the dangers of getting too close to these animals.

"Paloma, you shouldn't have said all that," Lola chided, placing a comforting hand on Carla's shoulder. "Carla knows the risks, and she's been trained just as well as the rest of us. We need to trust that she knows what she's doing."

Esperanza nodded in agreement. "Yes, and we can't forget that Kailani has been with Carla since she was a pup. They have a special bond, and I trust that Carla knows how to handle her." She put her arm around Carla's shoulders, offering her support. "Besides, we're all here for you, aren't we?"

"Of course we are," Yolanda added. "We've got your back, no matter what. But we also need to make sure that everyone is safe, especially when it comes to working with these animals. They can be unpredictable, even with their trainers who they trust the most."

Hearing Esperanza defend Kailani and her bond with Carla, Paloma's expression softened slightly. She knew that Esperanza had lost her fiancé, Pedro, just a month ago in an orca attack. The whole park was still reeling from the tragedy. The accident had happened during a performance when one of the older males, Ragnarok, had suddenly turned on Pedro, dragging him under the water and drowning him before anyone could intervene.

"Look, I'm not trying to scare Carla off or anything," Paloma said, her voice gentler now. "I just want her to be safe. We've all seen what these animals are capable of, and we can't forget that." She gestured to the scar on her leg. "I know firsthand how quickly they can strike, and how deep those wounds can go."

Lola nodded in understanding. "Of course we want Carla to be safe, but we also need to trust in her abilities. Kailani trusts Carla, and that's why they work so well together. Carla knows when Kailani is feeling playful or protective, and she knows how to respond to those emotions. It's a delicate balance, but they have it down pat."

Suddenly, Carla's hand flew to her stomach and she gasped in pain. Her face contorted with agony as she doubled over, clutching her midsection. The other trainers, Esperanza and Yolanda, rushed to her side, their eyes wide with concern. "Carla! What's wrong?" they cried.

As they tried to support her, Carla stumbled forward, her legs giving way beneath her. She collapsed to the ground, still clutching her stomach in agony. "I...I don't know...It could be cramps or something...But it feels so real..." she gasped, tears streaming down her face.

Esperanza and Yolanda exchanged worried glances. They knew that Carla wasn't prone to cramps, especially not this severe. Something was definitely wrong. "Carla, sweetie," Esperanza said gently, her voice trembling with concern. "Do you think you might be pregnant?"

Carla's eyes widened in shock. "Pregnant? No...I don't think so..." she managed to stammer. "I’m on the pill...I would know, right?" But even as she said the words, a sliver of doubt crept into her mind. Maybe she had missed a dose or something. She didn't want to believe it, but the possibility that she could be pregnant sent a wave of panic through her.

"Carla, sweetie, you need to get checked out," Esperanza insisted, her voice firm but gentle. "Just to be safe. We can't take any chances with your health, or with the baby's."

Lola and Paloma exchanged glances, their faces pale. They knew that if Carla was pregnant, it would be a huge scandal for the park. And if she was giving birth right there, in the middle of the orca exhibit, it would be a disaster.

Kailani, who had previously been swimming casually in the pool, immediately sensed the change in the atmosphere. She began wailing loudly, her voice echoing through the water and filling the air with a haunting melody. The other orcas in the pool reacted instinctively, gathering around Carla in a protective semicircle. Their massive bodies pressed against her, creating a barrier between her and the onlookers. The trainers, frozen in shock, watched as Carla's pants grew sodden with amniotic fluid.

Paloma, who was already a proud single mom of eight (and wouldn’t let anyone forget it), started to assess the situation. "Esperanza, go get the medical kit from the supply room. Hurry!" she ordered, her voice authoritative. "The rest of you, stay with Carla and keep her calm. Lola, help me support her legs."

"What about Kailani?" Yolanda asked, her voice trembling. "She could be in danger too." It was true; Kailani was the largest orca in the park, and her bond with Carla was unmistakable. If anything happened to Carla, there was a chance that Kailani might react violently.

"Take the chain off Tonga's gate," Paloma ordered, her voice firm but gentle. "She's more dominant than Kailani, and if she sees her coming in, it'll give Kailani the precursor that Tonga's here. It might help calm her down a bit." Yolanda nodded, hurrying to obey, her movements graceful despite the urgency of the situation.

The situation with Carla was growing more dire by the second. Esperanza returned with the medical kit, and they quickly set about trying to stabilize Carla. Paloma knelt beside her, carefully inspecting her for any signs of distress. "Carla, sweetie, can you hear me?" she asked, her voice soft and reassuring. "You're doing great, just try to stay calm and focus on your breathing."

Tonga, the park's most dominant and largest orca, resided in a separate pool. As Yolanda unlocked the gate and removed the chain from Tonga's gate, she glanced back at Carla and the others. She hesitated for a moment, wondering if it was really a good idea to release Tonga into the same pool as Kailani. But Paloma reassured her with a nod, and Yolanda knew she had to trust her judgment.

With a deep breath, Yolanda opened the gate, revealing Tonga's massive form in the adjacent pool. Kailani, who had been swimming restlessly, immediately sensed the presence of her elder. Her posture relaxed, and her movements became more fluid. She glided toward Tonga, her massive tail splashing softly against the water's surface.

As Tonga swam closer, Kailani moved to meet her, their bodies pressing against each other in a display of affection and respect. The other orcas in the pool watched intently, their expressions shifting from fear to curiosity as they observed the interaction between the two matriarchs.

Meanwhile, as the other trainers continued to assess Carla's condition and comfort her, they could not help but marvel at the miracle that was taking place right before their eyes. The amniotic fluid that had been pooling around Carla's pants now shimmered in the sunlight, and the unmistakable shape of a tiny, wriggling form could be seen beneath the surface. It was a baby boy, and he was alive and healthy.

"That’s your baby, Carla," Esperanza whispered, her voice filled with awe as she cradled the newborn in her arms. The baby boy, still connected to his mother by the umbilical cord, let out a tiny cry. The sound was barely audible above the rushing water and the excited chatter of the orcas surrounding them.

Kailani, still pressed against Tonga, turned her head ever so slightly to catch a glimpse of the new arrival. Her eyes widened in wonder, and she let out a low, throaty grunt that seemed to echo throughout the pool. The other orcas followed suit, their attention shifting from Tonga and Kailani to the tiny figure in Esperanza's arms.

The ambulance arrived within minutes, its siren wailing as it raced through the park. Paloma and Esperanza helped Carla out of the pool, wrapping her in a warm towel as she shivered from the cold. Yolanda, meanwhile, remained at Carla's side, watching anxiously as the paramedics checked her vitals and tended to the newborn. The baby boy, still connected to his mother by the umbilical cord, was handed over to the paramedics for examination.

At the hospital, the staff was amazed by Carla's miraculous story. They had never seen anything like it: a woman giving birth to a healthy baby boy, fully formed and alive, while swimming with killer whales. The neonatal unit was abuzz with activity as they checked the baby's vitals and ran tests. The baby's APGAR scores were through the roof, indicating excellent health.

Paloma and Yolanda went to visit Carla and her baby in the hospital the next day. The baby was doing well, and the doctors were amazed by his resilience. Carla was recovering quickly as well, thanks to the quick thinking of the Loro Parque staff. As they sat in the waiting room, Paloma couldn't help but feel a sense of pride and awe.

"It's incredible, Carla," she said, her voice filled with wonder. "You and your baby are both doing great. I can't believe you made it through that ordeal."

The nurse glanced over her shoulder, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "There's someone here to see you, Carla. They've been waiting for hours. They wanted to be the first to see you and your little one."

A dapper rich old man, his salt-and-pepper hair neatly combed back, his eyes sparkling with excitement and tears, hurried into the room. He was dressed impeccably in a tailored suit, his cane clicking against the floor as he made his way over to Carla's bedside. Paloma and Yolanda exchanged puzzled glances as the old man skidded to a halt, his hands trembling visibly.

"Hello Miss Abasolo," the old man said, taking her hand gently in his. "My name is Reginald Hargreeves, and I am here to adopt your precious little boy."

Reginald nodded eagerly, "Of course. Whatever needs to be done, I'm more than willing." He glanced back at Carla, his eyes filled with genuine care and compassion. "You've given this little one a wonderful gift, you know. And I promise to give him the best life possible. He'll never want for anything."

Paloma and Yolanda exchanged a look of relief. They knew how hard it must have been for Carla to make this decision, and they were grateful that someone as kind and loving as Reginald had stepped forward.

Reginald nodded understandingly. "Oh, I assure you, Miss Abasolo. Your son will never want for anything. I have a large family myself, and we'd all be delighted to welcome him with open arms. He'll have a loving mother (Are you referring to Grace when you mean that?) and a loving father, siblings to play with, and a talking monkey named Reggie who can't seem to stay out of trouble." He chuckled softly, his eyes never leaving Carla's face. "He'll have everything he needs."

Carla bit her lip, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "That sounds perfect. More than perfect, really." She swallowed hard, trying to find the right words. "I just want him to know that I did the best I could. That I loved him with all my heart, and I never gave up on him."

Reginald nodded solemnly, his expression sympathetic. "Oh, I'm sure he'll understand that, Miss Abasolo. And you can rest assured that I'll make sure he knows the truth about his birth parents. He'll grow up with the knowledge that he was loved, even if he couldn't be with you."

Carla bit her lip, her eyes welling up with tears again. "Thank you, Mr. Reginald. That means so much to me." She swallowed hard, trying to regain her composure. "I just want him to have a good life. To be happy, and to know that he's loved."

Reginald’s tone shifted slightly as he looked Carla in the eye, his expression serious. "Now, Miss Abasolo, I want you to know that I understand how hard this must be for you. But it's important that you don't try to contact your son or talk about him to anyone. You'll only get in trouble, and we don't want that. Do you understand?"

Yolanda and Paloma listened to Reginald and Carla's exchange with bated breath. “Well that sounds mildly threatening, Mr. Reginald, but I suppose we should be grateful that you're being honest with Carla about the situation," Paloma said, her tone lightening the mood somewhat. "I mean, we wouldn't want her to have any false hopes or anything."

Reginald smiled sympathetically at the young woman. "No, of course not. I just want to make sure that Carla understands the gravity of the situation. It's not my intention to be threatening, but I need to make sure that she knows what she's getting into."

Carla nodded, her eyes red from tears. "I understand. I don't want to get anyone in trouble. I just want to know that he's okay."

Reginald patted her shoulder gently. "I promise you, Miss Abasolo, that your son will be well taken care of. He'll grow up in a loving home with people who will cherish him as their own. And as he gets older, I'll make sure he knows the truth about his parents. You'll always be a part of his life, even if it's from a distance."

And with that, Carla's heart broke a little more. As she nodded in understanding, she felt a strange mixture of relief and despair wash over her. Relief that at least someone cared enough about her son to protect him, and despair that she would never be able to see him, hold him, or know how he was faring in this world. The weight of Reginald's words settled heavily on her shoulders, and she struggled to maintain her composure.

Yolanda and Paloma exchanged glances, their expressions mirroring the confusion and sadness that Carla was feeling. They knew that what Reginald had said was true, but hearing it out loud made it all the more real. They wanted to offer some sort of comfort, but didn't know how.