#so hardened by all that he's lived through yet still able to extend the same kindness that he wishes he could have received

[villainisms]

every time the doctor shows empathy (especially when another being is suffering) to the degree where you can tell they feel it in every atom of their body i just feel the overwhelming urge to scream at the top of my lungs

[holymaccaronii]

So how does BE’s simulation work? Is it like a big dome on the surface of the earth with like real plants and animals or are they fake? Also how big exactly is it and how many biomes does it have?

HELLO DEAR MUTUAL sorry for responding so late 🌞, had stuff to do from college,,

I promise I’ll depict it later visually (because I really want to) but BE’s simulation/nature works with a dynamic I mostly made up to fit the lore. Here’s some important info from the background before I explain:

Up in the moon, 34RTH units (the division BE belonged to) besides being used by HEL-102 as showcases for the highest “beauty standards” also were constantly put to training sessions to test their skills when taking care of living organic beings, since that was technically their future purpose once they settled back on Earth. You’d think they would use the actual seeds and animals they had stored in their vault, but HEL-102 being the greedy monarch he was wasn’t gonna let not even his own creations handle them. SO, he developed a system inside the 34RTH units that allowed them to project holograms to simulate real living plants or animals for them to take care of. Take in mind that these holograms weren’t alive, they were simply a reflection of the knowledge of natural processes 34RTH units had inside their data banks.

Now talking about BE’s nature: once BE had pretty much merged herself with a thousand robotic corpses down in AM’s complex (following the lore I had explained a while back), she also merged herself with the seed she had stolen from the moon’s vault and had it integrated into her systems. This allowed her to reflect actual living beings through holograms that could grow, interact with other real beings like BE’s survivors and undergo all natural processes with an actual mind of their own now. All of what BE creates still depends on her however, think of her as a core that fuels her own creations and if corrupted or low on energy, it directly affects them. Ik this seems like pulled out of nowhere because it technically was but since I liked the headcanon of AM being able to create bodies or puppets all controlled by him down on his complex, I wanted BE to be able to create independent minds. This was a short a explanation with probably excluded info but if you’d like a simpler description, just imagine the Earth’s surface turned into an actual Minecraft world where BE is in creative mode :P.

Answering your second question: I wouldn’t think of it as a dome, but BE is able to harden the atmosphere into one if she’d like to. BE manually purified the air thus I think one shouldn’t be necessary. And yeah you could say the plants and animals aren’t real since they aren’t organic, but they can still interact around with full sentience and act as a real one, they’re just big clumps of energy minding their own business.

Answering your third question: BE’s “territory” extends from the Earth’s atmosphere down to the lowest point life has ever reached. I definitely don’t have this info as developed yet but I think it’d be fun to indulge into both AM’s and BE’s territories by representing them thru a diagram of Earth’s layers. Regarding the biomes, I don’t think BE herself would’ve created a new one since her objective was to rebuild everything just as it was before the global massacre, so the number of existing biomes in her nature stays the same as the og nature. Nevertheless, her survivors (COUGH* probably Adam or Terry) most likely asked her to simulate a fantasy-like biome at least once just for shits and giggles.

As always if you or anyone has any specific questions I’ll gladly answer them. This mechanic is still a bit under construction so things might change later.

[persephones-wren]

heyy! Could I request a Kaz brekker and reader fic where shes really sensitive and kind and the opposite of him and they're dating but he seems to be spending more time with inej planning a heist and reader gets jealous and during the heist she saved inej from a bullet, getting hurt in the process and tells Kaz,in a delirious state, that shes happy she saved inej for him and everyone helps him plan a picnic for her while shes healing and suprises her? Its quite a long request but it would be wonderful if you wrote it!! thanks💕

Ends of the Earth (Kaz Brekker x Reader)

Hope you enjoy reading! I had a lot of fun writing it :)

Warnings: reader gets shot, that's about it?

Genre: Angst to (minimal) Fluff

Word Count: 2126

You’re not sure how you could have ever expected him to return what you felt for him.

You and Kaz were essentially opposites- he was a hardened criminal, you were more of a person who just ran with the wrong people. He was mean and commanding, you were sweet and endearing. Where he’d kill people with no hesitation, you’d probably be torn over it for the rest of your life.

Though the Barrel seemed to have no room for someone as kind as you, you had found yourself to fit fine along with rest as someone to watch over the rest. Your skill of memorization was appreciated when Kaz needed to reflect back on a certain part of the plan, and besides, having someone counteract his cruelty was appreciated by the others.

Sometimes, like now, it was hard to be a part of the Crows. Watching Inej stand by his side, watching them work together like well-oiled parts of the same machine, it was bittersweet. You couldn’t help the jealousy that overtook you, but kindness was ingrained in you. You couldn’t hate him. You couldn’t hate Inej.

���So we’ll take them out there. Inej, I’m going to need your backup here.” His voice snaps you back into the moment.

“Got it.” She nods.

“Before then, though, You’ll be stationed here. Y/N, I’m going to want you to stick close to her. She can fight for the both of you in case anything goes wrong.”

You’re useless, you berate yourself. You’re going to need Inej to save you. Maybe if you could defend yourself the way she could, he’d like you more.

“Understood.”

“That should wrap everything up. We’ll meet at the usual spot tonight. We’ll take transport there and sneak in. From there, everything should go according to plan.”

…

Night quickly falls, and you’re all gathered.

“To reiterate, I’m going to go grab the paintings. Inej and Y/N, stick together and communicate when it’s safe. Jesper, you’re going to shoot out the lights when signaled, and make sure that carriages are ready when it’s time. Wylan, wait it out here with him. If all goes to shit, blow this place. Clear?”

Echoes of agreement echo from around you, and you nod. This should be an easy heist.

“Y/N, c’mon. Let’s head over this way.”

Inej takes your wrist and leads you to the edge of the building. Her stare is intimidating as she surveys the building, before turning back to you.

“I’ll scale the walls, and then I’ll use the rope to pull you up. We can wait on the top of the building for a bit, before slipping in through a window. That okay?”

Damn her for even being considerate to you. And you still have the nerve to be jealous over her. Her and Kaz are so similar- they’d be perfect for each other.

You still can’t find it in your heart to be completely happy about that.

“Y/N? You alright?”

“Huh?” you snap out of your reverie, and give a bashful smile. “Yeah, that’s good. I’ll spot you. Hopefully I’ll be able to get up there…”

Inej throws you a reassuring smile back. “You’ll be okay.”

You watch with awe as she scales the building with no issue, truly living up to the nickname she had been given. She’s nearly invisible as she reaches the top, you note. She’s incredible.

You wait on the ground patiently as Inej lowers the rope, before you hear voices.

You stare up at her, wide-eyed, before running and diving behind a tree.

“The wine good tonight?”

It’s a guard. Your heart rate quickens, and bring a hand over your mouth. Quiet your breathing. If they catch you, you’re dead, and you’ll be the dead weight of this mission.

“I don’t know, haven’t had a drink yet. Maybe once everyone’s gone. Ha! The Stadwatch won't penalize me if there’s no guests to guard!”

“Yeah, that’s the spirit! All we have to make sure is no scum tries to steal the painting.”

“Like anybody would dare show their face here.”

The other guard laughs, and you wait with baited breath as they finally round the corner.

You check both directions, before you quietly slip out.

“Inej?” you’re quiet and slightly shaken. Death and capture was always palpable on these missions, but it had come swinging at you quicker than you had expected. “You still there?”

“Yeah,” her voice comes from above. “I’m here. You’re fast on your feet. Good thinking.”

“Thank you, and thank you for waiting.”

The rope drops down for the second time, and you take a hold of it, pulling yourself up with a bit of her help. Your hands finally grasp the ledge of the building, and Inej extends one of her hands to help pull you up. You’re hauled onto the rooftop, and though it’s a bit ungraceful, you’re okay.

“Thanks,” you whisper.

“No problem.”

Your eyes are both directed on the walkways below.

“You scout out for guards down there, and I’ll check for guards in the windows? We should signal to Kaz soon.”

“Sure.”

You keep a careful eye down below, hearing Inej scurry to different window points. You watch as she slips to one of them, peering through.

“Just our luck,” she mutters cheerfully. “This window’s fine. Let’s open it. I’ll go first, but send a flare for Kaz. I’m going to need that window open as soon as that flare goes up.”

“Alright.” You take a deep breath, before shooting the flare off. Inej thrusts open the window and pulls you in behind her.

You watch a figure walk past the doorway. That should be Kaz, and now, he should be slipping past you to go to the next doorway to take the painting-

“To the roof again, now-” Inej says, and starts to step out behind the boxes, and the figure turns back.

That’s not Kaz.

A click.

She’s going to be shot.

You’re acting on pure impulse and nerves when you shove her aside, and the bullet pierces through your shoulder. You crumble, and Inej tries to keep you from completely collapsing.

You grit your teeth. You’re trying not to let tears stream down your face, but everything hurts and Inej is over you and she’s saying something but you can’t hear her-

You try to force yourself to sit up, and you see a cane poised to hit the guard over the head. You turn away, and thank your murky hearing that you can’t hear the scream that emits from the guard.

Kaz.

“What happened?” His voice is losing it’s cool quickly.

“She was shot by the guard, I don’t think she’s quite registering it-” Inej’s voice is more panicked, but she forces herself to be analytical. “She’s going to need treatment, and quickly.”

“Okay,” he breathes in sharply. “Okay. Go down the hall, grab the paintings, and meet Jesper by the transportation. I’ll get her out.”

“Okay.”

Inej dashes down the hall, and he takes in your state. Your pupils are blown wide, and you’re trying not to cry, but it hurts.

“Kaz,” you breathe out. “Thank the Saints. Is Inej okay?”

He frowns at that. What about Inej? Inej was fine, you’d been shot. Did you have no self-preservation instincts?

“Inej is fine,” he mutters.

“That’s good,” you sigh out. “That’s good. I don’t quite think I’m going to make it out here alive, so just in case I don’t, I love you. Though I’m glad she’s okay, for your sake.”

His frown deepens. “I’m sorry? For my sake?”

“You’re in love with her. She with you. You guys can live your happy ending. As happy as the Barrel can get, anyway.” Your smile is slightly delirious, and he knows you’re not thinking rationally.

“Stop talking.”

“I’m sorry, are you mad at me? Please don’t be mad at me. I didn’t-” you cough, “think I’d die, but if it’s for you and Inej, then I think it’s worth it.”

“Nobody is worth your life,” he nearly yells. “You’re not going to die, Y/N. I won’t allow it.”

“Please, just let me stay here. They’re going to find you if you don’t.” “I don’t care.”

He’s pulling off his jacket and carefully using it as a tourniquet for your shoulder.

“Can you walk?”

“Kaz, please-”

“Can you walk.” It’s a statement, maybe a threat.

“Maybe- maybe with a bit of support,” your words are weak. You’re running out of time. “The world looks sideways, though- face it, Kaz, I’m not going to make it. I don’t want to be dead weight, your touch aver-”

“I’m not going to combust into fucking flames if you lean on me! Goddamnit, let me help you!”

His anger startles you. You hold back more tears as he pulls you up. At least he took the care to pull you up by the other arm. “Okay.”

The world is spinning and his face isn’t clear, and time seems to speed up as both of you go through the hallways, finally meeting Jesper and Inej in the courtyard.

“Bloody hell,” Jesper mutters.

“Go. To the White Rose. Nina should be able to do something.” Kaz leaves no room for argument. You’re passed out now, and he’s almost thankful you can’t feel anything as the carriage rushes through harsh weather and bumpy roads.

I don’t quite think I’m going to make it out here alive, so just in case I don’t, I love you.

Were you that oblivious? Did you think he was in love with Inej? How could you be so blind?

How could you sacrifice yourself so he could live what you thought to be a “happy ending”?

You didn’t plan it, did you?

He carefully takes off one of his gloves, hovering his hand over your forehead.

You’re still warm.

He doesn’t believe in Saints, but now, he’s almost praying to them that you’ll be okay.

Please be okay.

...

Inej glances at Kaz, standing over her in the White Rose.

She’s been out for days at this point. Nina could only do so much, with whatever corpse-like power she’d gained. The rest had to be natural healing.

Inej clears her throat. “She’d go to the ends of the world for you. For your happiness.” Kaz remains still.

“Don’t make her do so again.”

..

Your eyes flutter open, the brightness of the room nearly rendering you blind.

Your shoulder hurts like a bitch, but besides that, you’re alive.

Happiness and heaviness fill your heart at once. You’re alive, you’re okay. What had you said to Kaz in your state?

Hopefully nothing stupid.

“You’re awake. I’m glad.”

Kaz’s voice comes from the edge of the room. He’s leaning on the wall, cane in hand. When was Kaz upfront with his emotions?

“Yeah. How long was I out for?”

“A couple of days.”

“Days?” Your voice cracks. “I didn’t think it was that bad.”

That’s a lie. You thought you were dead, for sure. He doesn’t have to know that.

“...Right.” He’s skeptical, but pushes himself off the wall and makes his way over to you. “This may be a bit early, but would you want to go for a walk?”

“Sure.” Is he kicking you out of the Crows? Why would he want to go on a walk just after you’ve woken up? You’re screwed.

He waits for you to stand, and then you’re both walking side by side, into the gardens of the courtyard. He doesn’t say anything, just leads you to a small place under an apple tree. A picnic blanket is spread out, with a small basket laying on top of it.

Your eyes widen in surprise, and a brief smile flashes across his face. “Nice, isn’t it?”

“Kaz- what is all of this?”

“You said you loved me.”

Horror paints across your face, and you lower your head in shame. “I’m sorry, I didn’t, I wasn’t thinking. I’m sorry, I know you love Inej, that- was a bit unprompted of me, I’m sorry-”

He blinks at your rushed words. “Y/N. I’m not in love with Inej. She’s part of the Crows, as are you. Though- if you mean it,” he clears his throat, “that you love me- then take this as a surprise first date.”

Your expression morphs into a shy smile. He’s probably not ready to say it back. It doesn’t matter. He feels the same way.

“Happy first date, then.”

You’re both talking and eating, small smiles on both of your faces, a stark contrast to the harsh atmosphere of Ketterdam. It doesn’t matter to him. You’re alive, you’re safe, and you’re with him. You’d go to the end of the world for him. He’d do the same for you.

He loves you.

[oftenderweapons]

hello 👀 first of all i love your writing. second of all idk if you saw joon’s make up artist reaching up to him to fix his makeup on set but i could think about vixen bc we all know how volatile and jealous she may get.... so may i suggest a joon x vixen jealous sex drabble??? thank u!!!

Hello, dear reader. Thank you soooo much for the compliments. I couldn’t help but deliver, it literally wrote itself. There you go 💜✨

title: yours, truly

pairing: namjoon x reader (nicknamed Vixen)

wordcount: 2.7k

genre: smut, fluff, established relationship

rating: 18+, minors do not interact

synopsis: Vixen doesn't appreciate the imbalance between her belonging to Namjoon and his belonging to her, and although she understands the limits due to his job, at the same time she's uncomfortable about the way she feels. However, Namjoon is eager to reassure her.

trigger warnings: argument on jealousy and double standards. There is one very specific passage where Namjoon imposes himself physically on Vixen, grabbing her and pinning her while she's trying to get away from him. If this triggers you, please do not read further. On to sexual topics: mention of cunnilingus, masturbation (male and female receiving), unprotected sex (BE SMART!!!!!!), marking, power struggle, several occurrences of pinning and top-bottom shifts.

a/n: Hello people, here's the first of several drabbles I've been working on. Please, stay tuned cause HOPEFULLY Jimin and Princess should be next 💖

Here's my masterlist enjoy 💜✨

⁂ ⁕ ⁂ ⁕ ⁂ ⁕ ⁂ ⁕ ⁂ ⁕ ⁂ ⁕ ⁂

You stormed into the apartment, Namjoon hot on your heels.

“Vixen,” he called, watching you take off your shoes with a frown on your face. “Babylove.”

You lifted a finger, inviting him to keep quiet before you stood and headed to your room.

“Vixen?” he called, once more. He knew what had happened, and he knew you didn't mean to act like that. He knew you didn't like feeling jealous or possessive, but the footage of him wrapping an arm around his makeup artist — even if it was just to keep her from falling — had unsettled you more than you wanted to admit.

There were women who dried his sweat and helped him change his clothes and saw him half naked regularly, and they were out there doing so publicly, while you didn't even own a picture of him kissing you. After being together for six months. After him asking you to be his wife.

To anyone except his friends and family, you were nothing but a stranger to him.

“Vixen?”

You were his. Always. All the time. You wore his clothes and had his marks on you from Monday to Sunday, twenty-four seven, uninterruptedly ever since he'd first told you he loves you — with an unintended pause because of the tour.

But what about him? Did he even belong to you?

He called your name shyly, fearsomely. “Look at me, please.”

“I'm going to take a bath,” you announced dryly.

“I'm coming with you,” he replied, already taking off his clothes.

“I want to be alone.”

He inhaled and did the crudest, most animalistic thing he could think of. He grabbed your waist and made you face him. “Vixen. Look at me.”

You shook your head and tutted.

“Say 'no' and I'll let you go,” he said, his voice booming like thunder.

You stayed silent.

“Look at me,” he repeated, an arm around your waist, his free one coming up so he could grip your chin and force your eyes to meet his. “Like this.”

“I hate this!” you spat, looking away right before he forced you to meet his eyes again. “It's not fair!” You snarled before angrily pushing the heel of your foot against his toes.

He hissed and let you go, only to catch you once more half a second later, pinning you against the wall. “Talk to me.”

Your brow furrowed, your eyes like a dark storm, you looked at the floor as you admitted, “I have no right to feel jealous. And I hate it. It’s not fair.”

Namjoon hugged you to him, kissing your head as you pressed your forehead to his chest.

“I’m so sorry, I just… hate that you make me feel like this. It’s not you, it’s how I feel about what you do. That is, the position you’re in.” You bit your lip nervously, gripping his shirt in your fists.

Namjoon didn’t quite understand what you meant by that, but reversing the situation gave him a quite poignant point of view. The idea of you being chaperoned by other men at all time, of you being in his shoes, with people drooling over you at all times, being backstage and having no privacy with or without your clothes on, people imagining you as their partner, as their hot one night stand, as their one true love.

The thought of having to share you the same way you had to share him all the time made a shiver run down his spine. He knew he would never be able to tolerate all the things you went through for him without batting an eye. “I’m so sorry, love.” He ran his hands to the back of your thighs lowering himself to pick you up, your arms latching behind his neck as he did so. “I’m so, so sorry, little fox,” he repeated, his voice so deep and soothing.

“I’m okay, it’s just that…”

He kissed your cheek as he sat on the bed, placing you on top of him, straddling his hips. “You’re not okay, and that’s alright.” He waited for you to oppose as he let his lips linger one millimeter from yours.

Shyly, almost as if reluctantly, you pressed your mouth to his, feeling his hand on your nape, tangling in your hair, the other one pressed to the small of your back. “Take off your clothes, please,” you whispered in between kisses. Unquestioningly, he took off his undershirt, your body still on top of his while you undid the buttons of your blouse — actually, only a couple of them before you slipped it off from over your head. Namjoon’s hands went around your waist, lifting the lace and satin top you were wearing underneath, pressing his nose to your sternum once your torso was so enticingly naked, your body rising to your knees so he could reach your breastbone more comfortably, your arms hugging his head.

“You’re so precious, my babylove. So strong,” he murmured, “You’re so understanding and I’m so glad when you open up to me.” He inhaled you as he confessed some more of his worries, “I always fear that someday it will feel too much and you’ll leave.”

You shook your head, squishing his face in your palms before standing before him, taking off your jeans lightning-fast, watching him quickly remove his slacks and underwear in one go.

“Come claim it, babe,” he growled, extending his hands to you, making a come-hither motion.

You wiggled out of your panties and smiled sweetly, joining him, sitting on his lap and batting your eyelashes with a cute pout, Namjoon shaking his head at you with a knowing grin. And at that, you placed your hands on his shoulders and pushed him down. “You really thought?”

He licked his lips and rolled his eyes. “I, at least, hoped.” His hands landed on your ass before you could grab his wrists and pin them above his head while you made your way up, your naked fold glistening with wetness already in the unforgivingly bright light of your bedroom.

You knew he had a thing for keeping the lights on anyways.

“Come on, sit,” he said, his arms fighting you only playfully as he ached to grab your ass and make you ride his face.

“No.” Your reply was lapidary as your free hand began to tease the skin around your sex — not yet your folds, nor your clit,

“Vixen.” Your name sounded like a warning.

“Maybe you’ll learn I can do without you.”

“Enough,” he growled before his arms escaped your weak excuse of a grip, his jaw locked and his eyes stern in what would be nothing but his hard dom look. “You think you’re funny?”

The way he pushed you with your back to the mattress, your arms trying to save you from losing your balance, made your heartbeat flutter.

“You think I don’t know that already? You think that doesn’t scare me to the bone?” He hissed as he laid on top of you, holding back his weight only slightly. “We know who can do without who here,” he said, his eyes so tormented you wanted to comfort him. “I’m half a soul without you.”

You wrapped your legs around him, rubbing your pelvis against his hardening cock. “Stay with me, then. Remind me.” You placed your lips against his neck, licking up the curve of his throat before bringing your lips to his ear. “Are you mine, Joonie?”

His eyes rolled shut, his head moving in a nodding motion. “I only want to be yours. All the time. I wish we could be naked and alone every single second.”

You giggled and moved your hand between your bodies. “Can I stretch a little? I need you inside.”

“Do you want me to do that?” He asked, right before you shook your head. “Fuck, ____, you're fucking perfect,” he murmured, kissing down your body, licking your nipple, sucking it briefly. “I'm so in love.”

“Do you remember what I told you that night?” you asked him, purring as you pushed two fingers inside you.

“That you're gonna be my wife, someday?”

You chuckled and nodded. Sometimes it felt unreal that he had proposed to you. Already.

And that the ring around your right fourth finger was not your family ring.

“I told you I'm dedicating my life to you. That I want to live by your side for as long as we can. That I believe in you.”

He found solace in the crook of your neck, his lips searching for your collarbone before his teeth nibbled at it gently. “Don't stop. Ever.”

A third finger entered your hole, stretching your inner walls until you were comfortable. Still, you were too impatient to wait any longer, grabbing his cock and placing its tip against your folds. “I won't,” you promised, a loud gasp leaving your mouth as he sank in. “Fuck, too big.”

Namjoon backtracked as quickly as possible, but your hands stopped him just in time. “No, no, stay inside, please. I can get used to it.” Your nails sunk into his ass. “Don't go. Please.”

Namjoon inhaled, trying to keep his cool as much as possible. “I should have prepped you.” He groaned and pressed your face into his neck. “Hold tight, love. I need to shift just a little.”

You loved when he pampered you like that, when he treated you like his delicate porcelain doll. With a loud exhale, he fixed his position until he could rest more easily and resist your tight squeezes as you adjusted to him filling you to the brim. In maybe a minute, you shifted your hips, whispering, “Okay, move, please.”

“That's my good girl,” he replied, smiling at you before giving one slow, smooth stroke that made you purr and throw your head back, his tongue drawing the arch of your throat. “My jealous little thing, mh? You're so adorable.” He gave another deep, slow thrust, watching you writhe below him, legs shaking as they tensed up in pleasure. And then again, pulling out and pushing in making your toes curl, your entire mind malfunctioning into bliss.

“I love it when you're jealous,” he taunted you. “Makes me feel so wanted.” He drew the shell of your ear with his lips, your body drowning in sensations, too small to handle all he had to offer. “Almost as sexy and as desirable as you are. My little fox.”

“Joonie…” you almost sobbed, clawing at his shoulders before remembering you must absolutely not, throwing your hands off him and tugging at the sheets.

Namjoon nuzzled his nose against the side of your face. “Scratch, mark, bite. I don't care. I'm yours, Vixen.”

You whimpered and forced yourself not to. Maybe you just wanted to see who would cave first, maybe you were still feeling too petty about all the times you had been denied.

“Do it. I know you want it,” he tempted you. “Take what you want, little fox.”

You shook your head and brought yourself not only to pin your hands in place, but also turn your face away.

Namjoon rammed into you aggressively at your act of defiance, causing you to gasp and flinch. “Claim me. Do it, ____. I belong to you. Won't you acknowledge that?”

Lips sealed, eyes closed, you fought him, knowing you were absolutely hopeless the moment he pulled you on top of him. “See. This is what you do to me. Look at me. Look at the mess I become for you. For you, alone. No one else in the whole world, Vixen. Only you.” He led his hand on your belly, rubbing at your clit with his thumb, letting you grind on him with your own pace. He only wanted to make you feel good. “Vixen, please, baby. Look at me.

Slowly, you opened your eyes, your hands on his pectorals, your hips moving on him so naturally, so comfortably. He looked beautiful. Grandiose. Magnificent.

He looked like the only man you would ever look at. You knew there was no way you would look at anyone else if he was in the room.

“What are you thinking about?” He asked fondly, placing his hand atop of yours, lacing your fingers together.

“That you're the only one for me. That I need something of you that belongs to me alone.”

He shifted your hands slightly, his engulfing your own on top of his beating heart. “Here. Yours. All yours. Take it.”

You started going faster, needing for the messy ordeal to come to an end so you could sleep the afternoon away wrapped up in his arms.

With quick swivels of your hips, you changed your angle, making sure that he rubbed against your sweet spot, deep inside you.

“Guess what else is yours?” he teased, looking down, keeping his finger steady against your sensitive nub.

“Your exceedingly large dick?” you suggested with a gleam in your voice, sending the both of you into a tumble of laughs.

“Exactly,” he replied playfully. “I love you.”

“Love you too,” you replied quickly, feeling your high spiral out of control. “Cumming.”

“Let go,” he reassured you, catching you with his arm once your body collapsed, his thumb still teasing you while he started thrusting from below, making sure that your orgasm peaked and extinguished in pleasure before he finally climaxed, knowing all too well that your final squeezes would trigger his own ecstasy.

“Doesn't it feel good to cum on your favourite dick, mh?”

“My one and only,” you stated openly, watching him get increasingly worked up. “Show me who you belong to, Joon. You say you're mine? Then cum inside me.”

He shut his eyes tight. “Come on. Gimme all you've got,” you taunted him.

He grit his teeth and shook his head. He needed better leverage to go harder.

You understood that immediately. “Wanna get on top?”

He was conflicted, but in the end you found yourself with your back once more to the mattress, his cock pushing inside you so hard and fast that you were ready to start all over again if it weren't for the numbing sleepiness pulling at your mind.

“I'm yours,” he gritted out, in between strokes, like a mantra. “Get it into your pretty head that I'm yours. That I only want you. For the rest of my life,” he breathed out the final part. “I'm gonna—” and with a wildly erotic growl you felt him swell inside you before his release flowed into you, his body too sensitive to handle the high for too long.

Once he was done, there was nothing but spent, panting bodies, your hand in his hair as you helped him calm down.

“Are you feeling better, little fox?” he asked, taking your joined hands and bringing your knuckles to his lips. “If we swapped roles for a day, you the idol and I the normal person, I don't think I would be able to face it like you do.”

With your eyes closed, you waited for him to pull the two of you on your sides, your head on his chest, legs tangled together as he rubbed his feet against yours lazily and lasciviously.

“I know you don't like feeling jealous and I'm sorry that I made you feel that. You always say it's part of my job and you're understanding, but we both know it's hard to stop these emotions from happening.”

You nodded, inhaling his scent, so deeply mixed with yours. “It's worth it though. Because of the man you are, and what you mean to me.”

He kissed your head.

“I need to clean up. I want to sleep with you.”

He nodded. You were both more than happy to cancel the date and just sleep in, wrapped up in light sheets on the late September day.

Once washed and ready for sleep, Namjoon found your perfect position, your right hand in his left one as he toyed with your ring, pushing it around. Even though he had proposed, he knew the wait would be long. Still, he tried. “How much time left?” he asked, the question a cliché between the two of you by now. You always knew what it meant to him.

“A while,” you replied — your usual answer.

He nodded and pulled you closer. “Sleep tight, baby fox.”

“Sleep tight, big bear.”

[tennessoui]

for obikin, maybe pretending to hate each other au? (sth where their ages are a little closer, perhaps, so obi-wan can be intensely petty and not feel the need to Set an Example)

45. (Pretending To) Hate Each Other (raised as Sith!Anakin, salty!Padawan Obi-Wan)(1.6k)

Obi-Wan turns away from the training stalles with a barely suppressed sneer. Anakin, as he is to be called, has defeated his opponents. His fellow Padawans. Darth Vader has become a Padawan and everyone is just fine with it.

Obi-Wan marches out into the halls, not knowing where he’s going, but knowing he must get away from the smirk on Anakin’s face as he had lowered his training saber to his opponent’s neck. Does no one but Obi-Wan remember how just months ago Vader’s saber had been pressed against his neck and it hadn’t been a training exercise? Does no one remember the atrocities Anakin had committed, the sentients Anakin had killed?

And yet Obi-Wan’s master seems infinitely fascinated by the boy. And yet Obi-Wan, it seems, cannot step out of his own room without finding this Anakin underfoot, either taking tea with his Master, or dolefully skulking around the doorway of Obi-Wan’s quarters. What draws the boy, he has no lasting idea.

They’re approximately the same age, he supposes, although Obi-Wan has a few years at least on Anakin--it’s clearer to see now that Anakin has stopped wearing his helmet and armor into battle, now that the lines of his face are not hardened by scowls and snarls. Really, he’s a boy. His medical chart puts him at eighteen, making him four years Obi-Wan’s junior.

And, he supposes, Qui-Gon was the one to find Anakin wounded on the battlefield, the one to insist they treat the Sith, heal him, and give him shelter. But Obi-Wan was the one who had found the slave chip embedded between his ribcage, the one who had alerted the Council to its presence, so it could be used to find the boy’s master, to capture him or kill him, to end the war.

But surely, whatever small part Obi-Wan had played in the war’s conclusion, the Force should have known better than to repay him by gifting him with the care and keeping of a Sith Lord, Chosen One or not.

Although Obi-Wan can admit, even if only to himself, that it’s worse when Vader latches onto anyone else in the Temple. His master is too starry-eyed by his ideas of Vader’s midichlorians, his destiny as the Chosen One, to see the boy in front of him now.

And anyone younger than Vader is too easily swayed by his looks, his charm, his disgustingly transparent eagerness to know about the Temple, about the Jedi way of life.

Obi-Wan knows this. He’s fought a Sith at 20, fended it off after it dealt a nearly fatal blow to his Master. They cannot be reasoned with. Vader cannot be reasoned with.

Anakin exists only as a figment of their imaginations, their desire to have the Chosen One fly under the Jedi colors. He is not real, not anymore.

Gradually, Obi-Wan finds himself making his way up the stairs of the Jedi Temple. Of all the spots to hide--to sulk, as his Master would say--the rooftop is the one least likely to be checked. It is one of Obi-Wan’s favorite areas in the entire building.

But he had not thought to check for stragglers before arriving at his destination, had thought the thunderstorms of his own Force presence would keep others at bay. He hadn’t yet figured Vader into his calculations, hadn’t remembered the propensity Vader had for showing up right when Obi-Wan least wanted him to.

“You left,” Vader--Anakin--whoever accuses, as Obi-Wan sits down on the rooftop. The wind howls around them. Obi-Wan has the distinct thought that they’ve lived through this before, that last time Vader had cornered him on a rooftop, he had threatened to take a piece of his body home to his Master. Now, Vader is standing in his home.

Obi-Wan takes a very deep breath and banishes those sorts of thoughts. Anakin, he reminds himself. Anakin.

And just as importantly, the chip. There had been a chip. Not controlling Va--Anakin’s thoughts, but certainly controlling his actions. What he would do to survive is no different from what Obi-Wan had done to survive; they had just been on opposite sides of the war.

Is Obi-Wan weak for not being able to move past that? For not being able to greet the boy--the man--Anakin with open arms into the folds of his family?

“I did,” Obi-Wan replies, keeping his eyes on what he can see of the city skyline.

Anakin steps closer. “Why?”

He turns to face him, takes in his sweaty appearance and messy tunics. He must have been looking for Obi-Wan’s reaction. He must have seen the exact moment Obi-Wan had turned, must have scrambled to cloth himself as he followed after.

“Why does it matter?” He asks instead of answering, always instead of answering.

“Because I wanted you to watch,” Vader says.

“I’ve seen you kill Padawans before,” Obi-Wan turns away and stands up until he can lean against the high protective walls of the roof. “I wasn’t impressed.”

Vader feels frustrated in the Force. No. Anakin.

Anakin. “It was a training exercise.”

“Now,” Obi-Wan points out. “Or do you mean then?”

“Would you hate me if I said both?” “I hate you now, Vader.” The other boy’s Force signature withdraws, flinching away from Obi-Wan’s ire. He hears him sit down. He’d rather throw him off the roof.

But: “Don’t call me that,” the boy pleads quietly. “I know I can’t--that I don’t--” he cuts himself off and grows quiet.

Obi-Wan would say something to break the silence, but he doesn’t want to engage the boy if he doesn’t have to. If he closes his eyes, he can feel and see the Force raging around them, violently buffering them as it demands some sort of denouement.

The boy inhales and stands again, stepping forward hesitantly until he’s a scant foot away from Obi-Wan. “My mom always told me she thought for ages about my name. That it had come to her in a dream after I was already a month old, that it was bad luck to have waited for so long to name me because infants on Tatooine can die as quickly as their mothers.

“And then I...I couldn’t use it or hear it or speak it for so long that I think I almost forgot it, almost lost it to Sidious and...and Vader. So even if you hate me, and I know you should hate me, I know I’ve never done anything to you that cancels out the bad I’ve done to you, but. Please don’t call me that. I think it would have made her sad."

Obi-Wan works his jaw as he stares off into the city. He doesn’t think V--Anakin has ever said so many words to him. If he gives in now, he’d be just as bad as the other padawans who had welcomed Anakin in amongst them because of his big eyes and soft lips and earnest enthusiasm.

Anakin seems to take his silence as permission to continue, which it isn’t. “And I know I’m not. That I can’t be--won’t ever be a Padawan, or a Jedi Knight, that. That I’ll never wear a braid or anything. I’m not--I don’t want another Master. I never want another Master.”

Obi-Wan turns his head just enough to look at Anakin. He’s spent an awfully long amount of time hanging around Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan’s quarters if he doesn’t want a Master. But...what he’s saying makes sense, and, more importantly than that, soothes the furious emotions in Obi-Wan’s chest enough that he can speak. “Then I can’t understand why.” Why you’re here, why you won’t leave me alone, why you chose to follow me if you’re not trying to dispose of me and take my Master for yours.

Anakin sighs, leaning his head on his hands as he looks out at the city. Obi-Wan finds himself annoyed with that as well, even though he’d just been doing the same thing. Now he can’t tear his eyes away from Anakin’s profile.

“You’re warm in the Force,” Anakin says eventually. “I think maybe I spent too long in space, because I’m always cold. Except when I’m around you. You burn. You always have. I used to think that maybe--it was hatred or disgust at me, when I met you in battle, and you were an inferno. But you burn when you’re on creche duty too. A different kind of fire, but still so warm. It’s just your soul. It’s just who you are.”

Obi-Wan blinks open-mouthed at him. He’s never considered the thought that Vader--Anakin--had been trailing after him for anything other than easy access to his Master. Now he doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do or say.

There’s a part of him that still doesn’t understand what Anakin wants to get out of his tenancy at the Temple, a part that whispers that the Sith can’t be trusted, no matter how blue they can make their eyes look. But the Jedi part of Obi-Wan is bigger.

The Jedi part of Obi-Wan tells him to extend his hand just enough to brush against Anakin’s exposed wrist. It’s a point of vulnerability the boy doesn’t shy away from.

“Would you…” he asks slowly, forcing the words out of his tight throat. “Like to meditate with me?”

Anakin looks astonished, then hopeful, then disappointed, then dejected. “I’m no good at meditating,” he says, scuffing the point of his shoe on the ground. “It wasn’t a huge part of my...former Master’s curriculum, and the Force is just so loud in my head that it’s hard to do anything but react.”

He looks up at Obi-Wan through his eyelashes, biting his lip as if he’s afraid that he’ll be turned away for this.

Instead, Obi-Wan turns fully to face him and latches onto his flesh hand. “There are some things, I’ve found,” he murmurs, leading them away from the edge of the roof before pulling Anakin down to sit cross-legged in front of him, “that are much easier done with someone else. Done together.”

[heavenunderthemoon]

Olly, Olly, Oxen Free {Hotch x daughter!reader}

Warnings: PLEASE, be advised of the SEVERE mentions of gun violence, murder, death, etc. This is a heavy piece, so please, please, please, do not put yourself at risk to read this, if you would like to know the plot without reading let me know and I will accommodate as best as I can!

This is set in “100″, so, daughter!reader is currently trapped with foyet in her childhood home. Alright, enjoy. 

"Y/N."

You sprung from your place on the floor, watching your brother retreat past the living room, his feet happily climbing the old route he used to take in the childhood home he was raised in. You  doubted he forgot it so soon, even with his young age. This was the house they had made home. Over the last year, you would've done anything to be back in this house, surrounded by the memories of your past life. The life in which you weren't forced into the witness protection program, abandoning all of your friends due to a serial killer hellbent on destroying your father's life.

Your hand reached out, gently grabbing the cellphone extending from the hands of your mother's.

"Dad."

You forced herself to sound calm, composed. Sitting only ten feet from you was a man who had previously shoved a blade into your father's abdomen just to prove a point. You figured seeming weak wasn't particularly a good idea.

There was the hum of an engine, one that you knew well. When you was younger- much younger- you used to wait up for you father to come home from cases. Most nights you fell asleep before he came back, but on the rare occasion you actually made it past midnight, you could hear that very same hum of his government issued SUV pulling into the driveway, subsequently causing you to dart out of  bed to jump into his waiting arms. It never mattered to you that you would receive a scolding from your mother for not going to bed at a proper time, not when you would see the smile that grew on her father's face when you accomplished your goal.

That smile, so rare and so blinding, hardly even captured in pictures. Your father was a tired man, a hardworking man, a dedicated father, but all of his good qualities had hardened into stone from the heat of his job and sometimes you feared that eventually, even you might not be able to crack that tough exterior. It seemed silly, sure, but your mother used to be able to find the chinks in his armor, used to make him laugh and smile and love and then one day she couldn't and who was to say that it wouldn't happen to you too?

"Y/N/N, I love you, you know that?" He used the nickname Jack had accidentally given you. When he was just learning to talk, the boy was unable to fully pronounce your name and you had been stuck with it ever since. You used to hate it- or, at least pretend to, but you could never yell at Jack. The boy was too good at absolutely melting you.

Your father's voice, which was typically strong and gruff, came out a bit cracked. It filled you with a sinking feeling. If your father wasn't composed then how the hell were you supposed to be?

The man who hoisted you on his shoulders every Fourth of July to see the fireworks better, or grabbed every spider that made you scream for your life. The man who taught you how to swing a baseball bat and then immediately yelled because you whacked him right in the knee. A fearless, strong, admittedly taciturn man that was making abundantly clear the ambiguity of your future.

You swallowed down that fear, you couldn't afford to be afraid right now. Y/E/C  eyes looked up to your mother. She was still beside you, looking at her daughter as if trying to engrain every single facet of your face in her mind, burning the image of her daughter into her memory.

"I know, I love you too." You didn't know how you managed to keep your voice so even but to anyone listening it sounded like a normal conversation. She could almost imagine they were sitting at a dinner table (something they hadn't done in a year because of the Witness Protection Program).

Pass the salt. She would've said.

"I need you to listen to me carefully, Bug." If you hadn't been so worried that you might die soon you might've found yourself scolding the man not to use that nickname anymore. After your friends had slept over in seventh grade and heard your father use it you were teased relentlessly, but now you didn't mind it. You didn't mind your father using a nickname you hated. You didn't mind a lot of things now that you were facing death, serial killer breathing the same air as you and your mother, standing in your living room, staring at you with cold, calculating eyes.  

It's funny how little things matter when death enters the picture.

"Remember when I taught you to drive?"

Your eyebrows furrowed, and you glanced to your mother, trying to keep your face void of emotion.

You hadn't learned to drive. You had begged your father, of course, but he had said no. You remembered the fight that had ensued, his words loud just to overpower your teenaged protests. "There's no use learning to drive when your mother's here, sometimes me, and the metro, it's useless. It would do you better to learn something more useful, like shooting a gun."

Oh.

The sinking feeling returned in the pit of your stomach. Or maybe it just never left. Your eyes hardened with resolve over what you knew her father was asking you to do, and you nodded.

"Yeah."

A tiny breath of air left your parted lips, and even with the confusion laced on her mother's features and the amusement playing on Foyet's, your mind cleared a bit.

Frontside. Trigger press. Follow through.

"I'm a terrible driver." You murmured to her father. Your hand began to sweat at what he was asking of you. You recalled the shooting lessons. It had been a year or so ago, the man wanting you to be prepared for anything and then he had been shot and you hadn't seen him since. Even with the little practice, you hadn't been too bad, but this was nothing like the shooting range. This was pointing a gun at a killer and hoping to anything that was good and holy that you didn't miss. Even so, who said you could get to the gun before Foyet got to you?

"You're good enough."

Good enough. You wanted to scream.

Foyet rose from his spot on the floor, and Haley stiffened in her place.

"I think that's good enough, right, Y/N?" The way he moved, eyes trained onto you, alight with a kind of...mischief? Yes, mischief. Like an adolescent boy who just found his father's stash of fireworks. His body moved like a predator. Refined, sophisticated, and calculated.

And, as he moved closer, you could smell him. He didn't smell like you thought a killer would smell. Though, to be fair, you hadn't ever given much thought to the scent of a killer. Maybe you thought that someone capable of such dirty, heinous crimes would smell as such. Like the rotten core would seep through their pores and become a putrid scent recognizable to those surrounding him. Instead, he smelt clean. Like laundry detergent and freshly washed hair. The hand that didn't hold the gun reached up, taking a strand of your hair into his fingers and running it through them deftly.

"Don't touch me." You pushed him back on instinct and, not seeming to expect such force, the man was shoved back two steps. Rather than cocking the gun right then and there, Foyet looked at you with interest and then, he did something you didn't expect. He smiled.

A laugh fell through his lips. It bubbled and boiled and hit your ears like nails on a chalkboard.

"Wow, you've got a feisty one, Aaron. I think she gets that from you, the old ball and chain over here is a bit of a whiner." He chuckled to himself like he said the world's funniest joke, and you glared.

"Leave them alone." Your father may as well have been on mute because the killer paid no mind to his orders.

He breathed in a deep sigh, looking at you with those same bright, calculated eyes. Then, as if coming to a consensus, tilted his head. "How about this, how about you go hide, I'll give you a head start, and then I'll come find you."

You could feel her mother bristle from beside you, quiet whimpers coming from her mouth. The hum of the engine played in the background, and the wind chimes on the front porch sang a tune with the breeze. "No." You said firmly.

Foyet pouted, going to stand closer to the two. With each step he took closer to the two of you, it felt like a nail going into her coffin. You could see the twitch in his hands, as if itching to plunge a blade into your mother's flesh, yet, you couldn't just leave your mother. You couldn't leave her to die.

"Ah, come on. You're a teenager- a teenage girl, no less, aren't you guys supposed to be fun?" His tone was teasing and coupled with his non-imposing figure, he shouldn't have been able to chill you with his words but the way his eyes bored into yours they did.

You felt a hand on your elbow, a nudge and you glanced back to your mother. Haley was smaller than you, it had been that way for about a year or so now. You had hit a growth spurt once you entered high school, inheriting your father's height, and it caused you to be a couple inches taller than your mother. Her eyes were filled with tears that were streaming down her face without care. You had seen her mother cry more than most daughters should.

Haley liked to cry at night, after putting her children to bed. She didn't think about how often you stayed up, listening to the sobbing on the other side of the wall.

A hand cupped your face, and you leaned into the warmth. How many fights had you two gotten in over the past year? You had always been a daddy's girl. He was never home, and it left your mother to be the 'bad guy' in most situations. And then, you all had been forced to pack up your lives and vanish. That year had been filled with nights of yelling at each other. Fights about small things. Like, your music playing too loud, or drinking too much coffee. And big stuff too. Like, you confronting your mother about having an affair.

Your relationship had been rocky. But, she was still your mother. She still reminded you to wear a coat when it was cold out, or washed your sheets when you felt sick. She made your favorite meals when you were sad, and bought  nail polish that she thought you would like. She was your mother, and you didn't think you would ever be able to ignore that.

"Y/N, go." Her words were stern, and it reminded you of a scolding. But your mother's lips were tugging at the corners, and she was caressing your cheek so softly that you thought you would collapse right there. Your heart clenched at the sight of your mother.

Would this be the last time you saw her? The thought made you want to scream, cry, and punch something all at once.

For the first time that afternoon, you let your mask slip. Your eyes welled with tears, lip trembling. "Mom, no." it came out shaky, and you didn't have to turn around to see Foyet smiling at the way he could make an entire family fear for their lives in a mere couple of minutes. You could simply feel it.

Haley nodded, both her hands cupping your face now, scanning it over and over again. Your eyes, a fierceness to them that mimicked her own. A button nose that sat above rosy pink lips. On your chin, a small scar. You were an adventurous child. You hadn't been afraid to climb the monkey bars despite being far too small for them and when you had fallen off, you had busted the skin open. Haley remembered being panicked, seeing you covered in blood, rushing you to the hospital, to find that you were calmer than she was. That's how you always were. You were never scared. You were brave and fearless and kind and even if you played awful, punk alternative music that made Haley's ears want to bleed, you were such a sweet girl with a big heart. The mother stood on her tiptoes, kissing your forehead.

You let your eyes flutter shut for a moment, trying to burn the memory of her mother's lips on your forehead in your mind. And when you opened them again, you tried to burn the image of your mother as well. Even now, red eyed and sniffling, your mother was beautiful. Everyone always told you, you looked just like your mother. Haley used to have blonde hair. It had passed her shoulders and you used to beg her to play hair salon because of it. She had cut it after the divorce and you had a suspicion that it was because she craved change. Her cheekbones were high and sharp, just like yours. It made her skin pull taut when she smiled. Her nose was soft and dainty- something you had always been jealous of.

What if you never saw your mother smile again?

Haley was nodding, nodding and patting the girl's cheek and it took you a moment to realize she was speaking once more. "Go, baby. I'll be okay."

No, you won't. You wanted to say. You wanted to let your body fall into your mother's arms and have the woman hold you like she did when you were a child. You wanted to feel your mother's hands run through your hair and hear the woman sing you to sleep. You didn't care how childish it seemed, you just wanted your mother.

Your shoulders shook and you fought to keep your emotions from consuming you.

"I- I love you." It was a desperate attempt at closure but it did nothing to make you feel better. It only made your mother smile.

"I love you too." Haley gave one final pat before a light shove and you felt numb. You couldn't feel yourself hand the phone to your mother, nor could you feel your feet move in the desired direction. Everything in you felt like it was simultaneously being doused in cold water and burned in hot flames. Your mind kept screaming at you to go back. Turn around, grab your mother and hope for the best but you could hear Foyet talking with your mother now and she knew that your father had told you what to do next.

It was weird.

All the nights you had spent in that stupid witness protection program, closing your eyes imagining you were back in your childhood home. You would pretend you were back in your room, waiting for your father to come home. You would pretend your mother was putting Jack to sleep and you would pretend that everything was normal. Now you were back and everything was wrong.

Focus.

After teaching you how to properly use a gun, Aaron had told you where one could be found in cases of dire emergencies. Your feet stepped lightly, moving as swiftly as you could. The laces on your converse slapped against the sides of the shoes and you silently pulled open your father's nightstand. It hadn't been touched since you all had moved out.  It was normal upon first glance. A couple of papers, reading glasses, sleeping pills. You knew better.

You pulled at the string on the bottom, the false top giving in immediately and revealing the silver .38. You grabbed for it, cocking it as quietly as you could. The weapon was heavy, yet, familiar in your hand. You thought that in a time like this you would be more shaky, but all you could focus on was your mother's quiet sobs from the living room a whole story down.

The sound gave you hope. If she could cry, then she was alive. You pushed on with that thought in mind, rounding the corner. Just before you could head back downstairs and possibly take down Foyet, you heard it.

Gunshots.

Your mother cried out the first time, but it was completely silent after the second two. Just the light thud of a body hitting the floor.

You bit down on your cheek to keep herself from screaming. The taste of blood followed soon after. Your hand rose to your mouth, attempting to muffle the cries that attempted to escape.

"Y/N!" A sing song-y voice called out. There was a thumping sound on the stairs and after a sickening moment, you realized it was the sound of your mother's body hitting the wood. He was dragging her up the stairs, wanting to display her just how he liked. Your eyes burned and you let the tears fall down your cheeks without care. They dripped off your chin, falling onto your shirt. It was a band t-shirt. Your mother hated it, said that the swords were too violent, but she allowed you to wear it anyways.

You darted into the closest door- Jack's old room- eye's scanning your surroundings for a plan. Whatever Foyet was doing, you knew you didn't have much time until he was coming after you.

"I just wanna play, Y/N. Come out, come out wherever you are." He sang out. He must've taken your mother- your mother's body, you corrected yourself bitterly- to your parents bedroom. With a chilling realization, you remembered you had been there only moments before. He was close to you.

Your eyes landed on the closet, overflowing with toys, even months after not being in use. Jack tended to get whatever he asked for- not that he was spoiled, he was just hard to say no to. It wasn't difficult to squeeze into it, leaving the door open a crack. The gun sat in your hands ready and waiting.

You steadied the sound of your breathing.

How was you going to tell Jack about mom? Well that was a bit optimistic, now, wasn't it? Presumptuous of you to think you would live through the next five minutes to be able to tell your little brother that our mother was dead, You thought bitterly.

"I think I'll lay your body right next to your Mom. You'd like that, wouldn't you? So you can be together?" He was in the hallway, and even with the barrier of Jack's door and the closet door, the sound of his voice made you shiver. It was smooth, charming, even. If you hadn't known he was a complete psychopath you wouldn't have given the man much thought. You wouldn't have thought him capable of doing the heinous acts he had done.

There was a creak, the door opening to the room and your arms rose slightly. Your eyes were peaking through the crack, your heart racing. You could see the man moving into the room, searching for his next prey- and that's what he thought you were. Prey. He thought you were an easy target. Everyone did.

Everyone thought you were just some stupid kid. Some people said it outright and others just assumed. You could tell when you first met your father's team, some of them had stereotyped you as well. They had asked her about school and about boys and gossip, because they assumed that was all you were capable of speaking about and then you had surprised them by mentioning books and Neo-noir films. You were accustomed to being underestimated. And you were betting your life that George Foyet was doing the same.

As soon as you saw the man move into the middle of the room, you sprung. The door flew open and before you could hesitate, you pulled the trigger. Pure shock could've been the reason, you were able to get out of the room. Or perhaps you had managed to shoot him in the head and end your family's suffering once and for all. You weren't sure because you were moving purely on instinct. Your feet carried you through the house, jumping over toys and broken chairs and bloodstains that weren't there before.

"You bitch!"

Okay, so he was alive. He was chasing after you but you didn't look back. You jumped into the linen closet, out of breath but not allowing yourself to pant as you wanted to. You could hear the slight groans of the man as he made his way through the house, though it was farther, as if he was walking in the wrong direction. You had slowed him down, that's for sure. The gun in your hand felt warm, like a pat on the back, but the thought of your mother's dead body lying somewhere in the house sat in the back of your mind.

Where was Jack? You thought briefly. You had to trust that he was safe. Trust and pray that whatever their dad had said to him had made sense. You hoped he couldn't hear anything that was going on. That he didn't hear the sound of your mother being murdered and you shooting the killer.

You  felt the towel shelf press into your back, but you didn't dare move anymore. You were sure Foyet hadn't died now. If anything, you might've made him more angry.

It smelled like fresh laundry in the small space and it reminded you of Sunday nights. Your father was usually home, cases typically being taken during the week and coming home Saturday nights. That's why you liked Sundays so much. You liked waking up to the smell of pancakes while your father played a Beatles album. He would sing into a spatula and twirl your mother around the kitchen. And Haley would laugh and tell him to stop, but she never actually meant it. And, when he noticed you coming down the stairs, he would take you in his arms- no matter how big and tall you had gotten, he never stopped doing it. He would spin you around as well and when you was little you would dance on his feet, but when you were older, your bare feet would touch the cold hardwood floor.

Your mother would do crossword and pretend not to notice that your father was giving not-so-subtle hints every so often. Your father would have you catch him up on what you had been up to that week, and you would have to help Jack read through the comics because he didn't really understand the jokes. Sundays were your favorite days because instead of being a separate family like they were every other day, they were all together and it felt normal.

You closed her eyes, trying to imagine it was Sunday.

A large clatter rang out, effectively snapping you from your thoughts. You could hear footsteps, fighting, yelling. It was hard to tell how long you waited in the closet, gun pressed to your chest. You could hear someone outside the door, light footsteps against hardwood.

The light on the bottom was obscured from a large shadow and you tried to prepare yourself. What would death feel like? Maybe you was selfish, or maybe you were a coward, but you didn't want to know. You wanted to stomp your foot and say that it wasn't fair. It wasn't fair that your mother was dead. It wasn't fair that you were about to die. The door was ripped open and you extended your arms, about to shoot blindly, when you saw who was before you.

"Woah, hey, Y/N. Y/N, look at me."

You had stopped crying long ago, but your entire body was shaking. There was so much tension in your shoulders, it felt like somebody had tied you up entirely, slowly but surely squeezing the life out of you. You hadn't realized it before, much too focused in getting as far away from the serial killer in your house as possible, but when you had shot Foyet, some of his blood had splattered onto you. You could see it now that the light was on it. It sat on your hands, partially dried and partially wet. And you could feel some of it on your cheeks.

You wondered what you looked like.

Derek stared at you. Your eyes were wild, darting between the gun in your hands and the gun in Derek's. Your cheeks, flushed as they were, were painted lightly with splattered blood. The only evidence of previous tears were puffy eyes, but you hardly seemed weak right now. You seemed...feral.

"Y'N, it's me. You're safe. it's me, it's Derek. Put that gun down." It was strange. It was like you could see his lips moving, you could see that he was speaking but you couldn't hear the words. All you could hear was the sound of your mother's body hitting the stairs one at a time.

Thump.

Thump.

Thump.

"He's dead. Y/N, he's dead." The sound came back all at once. Everything came back all at once.

You could see people behind Derek. There were cops and medical examiners, flooding in and out of your childhood home. They all seemed to be moving toward the same place, all in the direction where you had fled. They were heading toward the body, you realized. The body of your dead mother. There was the faint sound of sirens, and there was chatter. You wanted to yell at them, scream for them to be quiet. And then you saw someone else.

Your father was coming toward you. He was covered in blood. Who's blood was that? Was that your mother's? Was that Foyet's? Movement caught your eye.

JJ was holding someone in her arms, he looked confused, pointing at his sister, eyes alarmed at the weapon in her hands and the Jaraeu woman seemed to be trying to turn him away. He was asking for you.

'Y/N/N?' He said.

Your shoulders dropped, the weapon falling into the Morgan man's waiting hands. You stepped forward. Despite your sudden awareness, everything felt like it was in slow motion. The world was moving with resistance, and you opened her arms, almost crumpling in relief when Jack squirmed away from the blonde agent and ran into your waiting arms. You scooped him into your arms, sitting him on your hip.

"Y/N!" Despite all the chaos around you two, you let yourself focus on your brother. He seemed fine. Confused, surely. He had looped his arms around your neck but his eyes squinted at the blood on your cheeks that hadn't been there before. His little eyebrows furrowed, and he reached one hand to poke your cheek. "Are you okay, Y/N?"

Jack loved you. Before you two were put into witness protection program, he didn't see you all too much. You were so busy with school and hanging out with your friends, that you hadn't even been home very often. Then, you didn't have much of a choice.

You  liked showing Jack your music- the clean versions, of course. He would scrunch his nose at certain metal heavy bands, but you assumed he liked most of them just because you did. He liked to play cards with you, and have your draw him funny sketches. And when he would have bad dreams, you never hesitated to let him sleep with you.

You felt multiple sets of eyes on you, your father pulling you into a hug. They all pretended not to notice you flinch. You kept your eyes on Jack.

"I'm fine." You took a hand, running it through the boy's ruffled hair from hiding god knows where. He giggled at the action, and you let your hand rest on his cheek for a moment. Your mother was dead somewhere in this house, her body laid across the floor, slaughtered. You swallowed down the rising bile in your throat.

"Let's get you checked out, yeah?"

[bktaro]

seven-three (part 1)

pairing: nanami x f!reader

themes/rating: explicit, 18+, clubs, bars, masquerade parties

tw: (eventual) rough sex, drinking, sex clubs (will be updated when part 2 is released)

wc: 2.5k

ao3 | part 1 | part 2​ | part 3

Nanami Kento had a hardened shell surrounding his personal life. Clocking out at five ‘o’clock on the dot every day, he left little to no room for others to get to know him better— leaving him as an unsolvable mystery amongst the office.

Likewise, you too aimed to clock out at five ‘o’ clock. You preferred routine during the workday, finding comfort in maintaining equilibrium and peace and wanting to do nothing more or nothing less than what was required of you.

Little did you know the two of you shared an interesting weekend hobby.

Your daily routine generally consisted of four simple tasks: waking up, working, eating/drinking and sleeping.

Truthfully, you didn’t mind what others might argue as the mundaneness of life under your routine. You preferred it, simply finding life under a routine like yours leading too little to no troubles. There would be no surprises and no shocks under this routine— you would simply just do what was expected of you, collect a paycheck, and go home, living each workday in a balanced equilibrium of serenity and peace.

However, of course there were inevitable bumps in the path you wanted to be nothing but flat and straightforward. Every once in a while there would be something that came up, disrupting the equilibrium and wreaking havoc into your preferred routine way of life.

Lately, the disruption had a name— Nanami Kento.

                                                         —

It wasn’t as if Nanami forced and wedged himself to disrupt your routine. Instead, it was almost as if some higher divine figure was controlling and planning it all, fate landing him like a roadblock in your path.  

You wouldn’t classify Nanami as a complete stranger in your life. Yet you wouldn’t say you had any sort of relationship with him other than being work colleagues. You more or less merely just knew of him— the dubbed ‘enigma’ of your office.

Your knowledge of Nanami was limited to the understanding he was a rather timid, quiet and reserved man. Despite his popularity in the office for his handsome looks accompanied by his cool and calm demeanour, he kept to himself for the most part, choosing to opt out of things like office politics, gossip and drama, never attending optional after work events such as dinners or drinks.

In a way, he reminded you much of yourself. Work was strictly just a place to remain polished and professional, not to be mixed with pleasure or fun.

For you, pleasure and fun existed every Saturday night, in an underground yet upscale club tucked away in the heart of the city. Shedding your usual sleek and polished weekday appearance, for an evening every week you indulged yourself in what others may argue to be activities ridden with sin.

On the exterior, the club seemed to be no different than any other nightclub. Bars, booths, dance floors were all present— it was what was behind a certain doorway that made this space different from others.

To promote anonymity, the club required its patrons to wear masquerade masks throughout the entire time in the vicinity, and all attendees had to refer to one another through their aliases, forbidding the exchange of any detailed personal information. The club was exclusive through invitation only and had just one main purpose: engaging in whatever kind of sex you wanted with any other consenting partner(s) for the night— no strings attached, and parting ways before sunrise.

For as long as you began your weekend hobby, you have never encountered the situation you were currently in. The situation should have been considered one of the worst possible outcomes given the scenario— yet a part of you felt enticed, a rush of adrenaline washing over you signified through the increased beating of your heart pounding in your chest.  

After all, what could be more dreadful yet alluring than seeing the sexiest man in your office at your weekly sex club?

It wasn’t Nanami’s fault at all you instantly recognized him. His mask, half black and half white parting down the middle concealed his face well enough, leaving openings at only the areas of his mouth and eyes. If you hadn’t studied those features eight hours a day for forty hours a week at the office, you probably wouldn’t have been able to connect the dots that those features belonged to one of your many colleagues.

But you knew it was him. There was no doubt in your mind it wasn’t. He was incredibly easy on the eyes in the office, your eyes darting towards his desk almost by instinct whenever you had the chance. You wouldn’t necessarily say you suppressed any harbouring feelings of romance for him or anything like that, it was more that you would let your mind wonder, wondering how his plush lips would feel, how his clearly toned body looked under his clothes, and even how he tasted.

Yet now that the opportunity to find an answer to all your questions was so close you could quite literally almost taste him, you stood frozen. All you could do was lean against the bar and watch his figure head over to the free bartender beside you momentarily, before shifting gazes and eyeing the familiar man that had accompanied him approach you.

“There she is— the sexiest girl in the whole world.”

Tall, toned, and ridiculously confident yet sexy, a familiar figure waves your way. He had let his name slip to you before in a drunken request to call him ‘Gojo Sensei’ in a previous rendezvous, but you still opted to call him by his alias in the club most other times, Sensei.

He was most notably known to wear a black blindfold wrapped around the upper part of his entire face instead of a mask. A peculiar and uncommon choice to the view of most, yet to the surprise of all not hindering his abilities in the slightest, mentioning previously his senses to his surroundings were extremely sharp and developed as a result of whatever his line of work was. And one night with him was more than enough for you to believe it— Gojo was more than skilled with pleasuring your body despite not even having a clear view of it in front of him.

“You always know how to flatter me, don’t you Sensei?” Your voice comes out more confident than you expect, and you think it’s the aid of the alcohol courage creeping in, or the smooth and soothing voice belonging to Gojo that indirectly pets down your nerves.

He places a hand just on the side of your hip, gently moving past you to call the attention of the bartender with his other free hand. The bartender simply nods his head in acknowledgement, no further explanation required for the regular drink Gojo ordered every weekend. His drink of choice is not a difficult request, merely a glass of ice topped with a swig of patron and is in his hands in no time, focusing his attention back on you.

“You’re a hard one not to flatter. It just comes so easily for my favourite baby girl that always treats me so well.”

“Favourite baby girl, hm?” You raise an eyebrow under your mask, the corner of your lips curving into a small grin. “You don’t have to beat around the bush, Sensei. Just ask and we’ll waste no more time— you know you’re a hard one to say no to for me.”

He lets out a deep chuckle, the whites of his teeth peeking momentarily as a result. The touch of his hand on your hip turns into the gentle tracing of fingertips up the side of your body, sending a small tingle down your spine.

“Such tempting words… and body.” His gaze follows his fingers, tracing the curves of your body with his eyes momentarily before he shuts them close, pulling his hands away and taking a deep breath of composure to shake his imagination off. “But I’m here to ask you, Fairy, for a particular wish tonight instead.”

“A wish?”

You’re intrigued. He’s definitely asked favours or wishes as the fellow club goers would call it when it came to you, going under the name ‘Fairy’ inspired by the pastel-colored wing shaped mask you wore. Yet, they were usually sexual wishes behind closed doors— this was the first time he was requesting something fully clothed.

And you suspect it has something to do with the blond man, joining your party once more with a drink now in hand.

“As you know, I’m quite the selfless man.” He begins, propping his elbow up on the blond man's shoulder. “Tonight, I’m helping a good friend instead. Fairy, this is Seven-Three, and Seven-Three, this is Fairy.”

You hesitate for a split second, questioning your next course of action. You had definitely taken notice of so called Seven-Three’s true identity in no time at all— but has he noticed yours? You feel an instant rush of sudden internal panic at the thought of being exposed, your scandalous weekend hobby tainting and bleeding into your normal, daily life.

However, the panic vanishes almost as quickly as it appeared, Nanami extending his hand out towards you with a tiny smile curved upon his lips.

“Pleasure is mine to finally meet you, Fairy. Sensei had so much to say about you.”

Mimicking his movement, you grab onto his hand with yours, expecting him to shake your hand with his. Instead, he shifts his hands to grip the tips of your fingers, bringing them towards his lips and leaving a soft kiss against your knuckles.

Your eyes widen, briefly frozen in shock at the scene in front of you. By no means was the action itself shocking enough to throw you off guard, it was who was doing the action. You would have never suspected in a lifetime you would see the same Nanami Kento, normally slumped back on his chair with the same nonchalant expression on his face to be behaving the way he was in front of you— confident, flirty and sexy.

But you had no complaints. You were loving this version of him, something riling and bubbling up inside of you the more you got to know of this Nanami.

“Good things, I hope.” You shoot him a small wink when his eyes flicker upwards to meet yours.

“Baby girl, when it comes to you I only have good things to say.” Gojo cuts in, causing Nanami to release your hand and stand back upright. “It’s partially why I’m here to request something specifically from you.”

“And what would that be?”

“You see, my dear friend here has been just so stressed out lately. And as the selfless friend I am, I couldn’t just bear to see my friend suffer like this.”

He brings a finger up to his chin, tapping against it physically expressing his train of thought.

“So, I thought about it long and hard— how could I help my dearest friend out to alleviate some of his troubles? Then boom… the best idea came to me.”

He snaps his fingers in the air, before turning his finger towards you.

“You, sweetheart. The perfect stress relief.”

You can’t help but let out a scoff, forcing yourself to hold back your laughter at his exaggerated explanation.

“Me, huh?”

“Precisely.”

“And this relates to this wish of yours?” You take a sip of the drink in your hand, the flavour sweet yet potent in the taste of alcohol. “What, you boys want to have a threesome or something tonight?”

Gojo lets out a whistle at the thought, and both men feel the constriction in their pants tighten just the slightest at your suggestive words. Gojo makes a mental note to take up your offer next time; he would be a crazy man to let such an opportunity slip through his fingers.

“That’s definitely now one of my life wishes. Rain check on that.” Gojo gives you his notorious cheeky grin, before turning his back towards you and resting his hands on top of Nanami’s shoulder. “I got to get going, but I’ll let this guy explain the rest.”

Gojo leaves the two of you, giving you one last single wave before disappearing into the crowd.

“Aright.” You cross your arms around your chest, an eyebrow raised in curiosity. “Now enlighten me, will you?”

“Let me ask you a question first.” Nanami gives you a small, impish grin. “What do you think my nickname means?”

His nickname? Truthfully when you heard the words Seven-Three, there was one instant thought that popped up into your head. A certain measurement for a certain body part that would be highly relevant in the current circumstances.

“...your dick size? Seven inches tall and three inches in girth?”

Nanami chuckles, his voice deep and rich ringing throughout your ears despite the loud music of the club behind you. He leans his body forward, trapping your body in between his two arms and your back leaning against the bar.

“Sensei was right, you’re so cute. If that was the reason behind my nickname, then my nickname would be Eleven-Six instead.”

Eleven? Eleven. You gulp, your mouth watering and licking your lips subconsciously at the thought.

“Let me explain for you then, cutie.” Nanami leans closer to your face, a hand sliding down the side of your body until it rests just on the bone at your hip. “It’s simple, really. I do want to ease my stress, but I also have a record that Sensei says you’re the perfect person to help me beat it.”

“You think I am?”

“Well, I won’t of course make you do anything you don’t want to do.” His finger finds its way under your chin, tilting your head upwards to look him directly in the eye. “But if you’re up for it, I think you’d be a great fit in making my wish come true to beat my record.”

“I’ll be the judge of that— let’s hear it.”

He tilts your chin to the side, gaining access to whisper into your ear instead. You shiver at the sensation, both in excitement and nervousness for what he’s about to say next.

“The seven in my name is for the record of how many times I’ve made a woman cum in one night. The three is for the three holes I’ll fill up with cum.”

There’s a lingering silence in the air, now thick between the two of you when he pulls back, staring back at your face to see any sort of expression in reaction to his words. It’s difficult to see with the mask on your face, and for a moment he wonders if perhaps he’s gone too far.

But those worries fly out the window nearly instantly. Nanami breaks into a grin when he sees the corner of your lips perk upward into a toothy, mischievous smirk.

You respected him immensely for still being considerate of your boundaries and asking for your consent, but you also thought it was silly for him to even think there would be a possibility of hesitation when it came to a request coming from someone like him. You truthfully weren’t sure what to expect, but you were quite open to a lot of different things when it came to sex. Frankly, the nastier, rougher, lewder the sex was— you thought the better. And his request to essentially make you cum at least eight times and fill you up was just right up your ally.

But really, what other answer did he expect coming from you whose weekend hobby was a sex club anyway?

“Congratulations, Seven-Three.” Your fingers grasp the hem of his shirt, scrunching the fabric and bringing his body closer to yours. “You’ve met your greatest match, and I’ll do my best to grant you this wish.”

[avengerscompound]

Moving On - Chapter 4

Moving On: A Falcon & Captain Marvel Fanfic

Masterlist PREVIOUS //

Buy me a ☕ Character Pairing:  Sam Wilson x F!Reader, Carol Danvers x F! Reader

Word Count:  2107

Rating:  E

Warnings:  Smut (MF, oral sex, vaginal sex, accidental exhibitionism/voyeurism)

Synopsis:  You thought Sam Wilson was the love of your life.  You had planned to do it all with him - marriage, kids, see the world.  Even when you’re life gets turned upside down, and you both end up international fugitives, he’s there by your side.

Then Thanos comes.

When Sam is one of the many turned to dust, leaving you alone and pregnant, you don’t think you’ll ever stop grieving.  Yet, everyone tells you that Sam would want you to move on and live your life - that he’d want you to be happy. Gradually you open your heart up to another.  Carol Danvers has lost people too.  First her daughter, then her wife.  As the two of you lean on each other, feelings grow and you move on together.

So what happens when Sam is returned to you?

Chapter 4: On the Run

It is strange how quickly your whole world can change.  One minute you’re planning a wedding and living in the Avengers Compound in Upstate New York, an official agent for the Avengers.  The next you’re considered a war criminal and you’re on the run with your fiance and three other people, one of them who happened to be Captain America.

It had been like a slow-motion car wreck watching everything go wrong.  First, there was a completely unnecessary fight against your friends in the airport because no one wanted to listen to each other.  Then you’d been arrested by people who you’d once considered not just friends, but family.  Then you’d been shipped off to some secret supermax prison in the ocean for enhanced individuals with no trial, even though you weren’t enhanced.  Then Steve Rogers had busted you out and you’d ended up on the run.

You were with Sam though, and you’d rather be with him on the run knowing you were on the right side of the fight than safe in New York alone.

You’d all been trying to make the most of your time working as vigilantes.  There had been a lot of alien tech ending up in the hands of criminal organizations and Steve had been leading your little band of merry men to go and get it back.

Things weren’t easy for any of you.  There was a lack of money coming in and everyone had had to quickly withdraw their entire savings before the government blocked all of their accounts.  Thankfully Steve’s pension from the army had accrued a lot since he’d been lost at sea, but he hadn’t been able to withdraw all of it.

It had meant that a lot of the income came down to you, as out of everyone - you were the least recognizable.  Yes, there were alerts out for you, but you were a spy - you knew how to disguise yourself and you knew where to find under-the-counter work when needed.

The trick was never staying in the same place for long and returning to countries that didn’t sign the accords.  Even those weren’t safe for long - Ross was not above sending people into countries illegally to detain people who he was hunting - Bruce Banner was a testament to that - but they were safe for a little while and meant that once a month rather than sleep in the stolen Quinn, you could splash out and get a hotel.  Although you were pretty sure that Wanda was often sleeping in hotels - with Vision most likely - anytime she said she needed to have some alone time.

You woke up and stretched on the cold metal floor of the Quinn, your spine popping loudly.  Sam shifted in close to you, his arm draping over your sternum and his hand resting on your neck so his fingertips lightly caressed your jaw.  “Was wondering when you were gonna wake up,” he murmured.

“Is it late?”  You asked, blinking your eyes in the dark of the jet.  There was light coming in through the cockpit window, but it was low and you couldn’t tell if that was because it was early or just overcast outside.

“Not particularly,” he said, his hand running down your neck and over your collarbone.  “You just normally sleep like shit in the Quin.”

“Who says I didn’t,” you grumbled, rolling in toward him, and breathing him in.  There was an acrid sting to his scent thanks to the fact that neither of you had showered for a few days.  You were all due for a trip to somewhere remote with beds and good water pressure.  Steve had said maybe going back to Wakanda for a few weeks was in order.  He didn’t like to go too often because T’Challa had already extended himself above and beyond anything that was fair to ask of him just by harboring Bucky.  But it had been over six months since any of you had been there, and you had accumulated a lot of alien technology that you knew Shuri would love to get her hands on.

Sam chuckled and his hands ran down to yours, linking your fingers together, and playing with the engagement ring that sat on your finger.  “What if we just get married in Wakanda?”

You looked up into his eyes.  They looked black in the dim light and when he smiled at you, the corners of them crinkled slightly.  “I’m not sure that’s what you really want,” you said.  “Don’t you want Sarah to be there?  And the kids?”

Sam frowned.  Sarah’s kids had been two and four years old when you’d gone on the run and every month that he missed of their lives hurt him.  He’d been sending money back to his sister to keep the family business running back when you’d both had actual jobs, but these days he was barely scraping by himself.

He sighed and nuzzled into your neck.  “I just want us to start our lives together.”

“I know, but life had other plans,” you said.  “I love you and I don’t need to get married to know that.  It’s not going to change anything.  We will still be on the run and we won’t be able to build a stable life and have kids.”

Sam sighed and leaned his forehead against you.  “I know, but I want you to be my wife.”

“I am your wife,” you said.

“Not legally,” he said.

“We don’t do anything legally at the moment,” you said, playfully.  When Sam didn’t laugh, you sighed and wrapped your arms around him.  “Sam,” you said.  “If you really want to get married in Wakanda, I’ll do it.  I’m sure I can get something nice to wear together, and Nat and Wanda can be my bridesmaids.  I’m sure given how close we’ve all gotten they would be who I’d have picked anyway.  Just like I know you’d have Steve be your best man.  But I know you.  This isn’t really what you want.  You want the big wedding down in Louisiana like you always planned.  With the catering done using fish that were caught by your family’s trawler and you want AJ and Cass to be our little ring bearers.  And I know… I know that if you do this - if we get married in Wakanda without Sarah, she’ll murder you. She will murder you and then disown you post humus.”

Sam started laughing.  “Yeah, she will.”

“Sam, I love you.  I’m yours, no matter what,” you said.

“I know,” he replied with a sigh.  “I know we’re doing the right thing now.  I mean - Tony can get all on his high horse about how important the accords were, but he still broke them immediately.  That fucking kid he brought to the fight is still breaking the accords and living his best life.  I just… I wish we could have both.”

“So do I,” you said.  “I hope they come around, but I’m scared that the thing that makes them realize how wrong they are is gonna be real bad.  Like; world-ending bad.”

“Yeah, me too,” Sam said.  “Which is why I’m doing this.”

“So, what do you want to do?  You asked.

“I guess… we can wait,” Sam relented.  “But maybe we can see if there’s any way we could do something small that we could sneak Sarah to?  Like … she goes to the Maldives and who just happens to be there getting married?”

“They’ll be watching her,” you said.

“Yeah, I know,” he said.  “But we can look into it.”

“Yeah, okay,” you agreed.  “We’ll look into it.”

Sam leaned in and kissed you deeply.  You wrapped your arms around his shoulders and pulled him down on top of you, so the full weight of his body pressed down on the cold metal floor of the jet.

Sam groaned softly and rolled his hips, his cock starting to harden against your thigh.  “Where’s Steve?” you mumbled against his lips as he continued to kiss you.  He was currently the only unknown factor as Wanda was on another of her ‘retreats’ and Natasha was dealing with some ��personal things’ that she wouldn’t tell the rest of you about.  He pulled back and smirked down at you.  “Why?  You want him to watch?”

“No,” you giggled, smacking his arm.  “I want the opposite of that.”

Sam laughed and nuzzled at your neck, pushing his hands up under your sleep shirt. “On his morning run.  Just you and me, baby.”

You kissed him again - more frantic this time, and your hands dug into his shoulders.  Sam began to squeeze and massage your breast as he ground down against you, sending a warm buzz through your body.  He began to move down your body, taking his time to both undress you and kiss every part of you.  By the time he was crouched between your spread legs, your whole body prickled like a live wire.

He gripped your thigh with one hand and reached up and began massaging your breast with the other as he dipped his head down and began lapping at your cunt.  You moaned and arched your back, gripping his bicep with one hand as you reached over your head with the other.  A hot current ran through you as Sam focused on your clit, sucking and nipping at it as he squeezed your breast.  He moaned into your cunt, the sound sending vibrations through you.  You slowly fell apart under him, writhing as a coil of hot pleasure wound itself tightly in your core.  Sam thrust two of his fingers inside you, and as soon as they hit that sweet spot inside you you cried out loudly and came hard, your whole body shuddering as your orgasm crashed through you.

Sam sat up onto his knees and looked at you.  “Gonna have to be a little quieter,” he said tapping your thigh.  “Steve’s got pretty good hearing you know.”

You scrunched up your face.  “Maybe you need to gag me.”

Sam chuckled and bit his bottom lip as you got on our hands and knees.  Even on the bedroll, your knees were going to hate you after this, but right now you didn’t care at all.  Sam moved up behind you, held onto your hips, and thrust hard into you.  You stumbled forward a little but managed to catch yourself on the cargo trunk in front of you.  He began to fuck you hard immediately, not even waiting to steady yourself.  You cried out and clenched around him as it felt like a hot shard tore through you.

Sam leaned over you, kissing your neck and shoulder, as he put his hand over your mouth.  “Hush now,” he growled in your ear.  “You don’t want to wake up the whole forest.”

You moaned into his hand and opened your mouth, letting him push two of his fingers inside for you to suck on.  He railed into you, his hips moving quickly and erratically as your bodies slapped together.  You tried to bounce back on him, adding to the pleasure coursing through you, but it wasn’t long until your arms gave out and you were helpless under him as your orgasm built.

As his hips began to stutter, Sam wrapped his arm around your waist and began to rub your clit.  It was all it took for the dam inside you to burst.  You buried your face in your arm and cried out as you came, clenching around Sam’s cock.  He began to thrust even more erratically as he chased his own release and with a jerk and a low groan he came, releasing inside you.

You let yourself flop completely on the floor, breathing heavily and feeling a little high on endorphins.  “You think Steve is out there and heard us?”  You asked as Sam lay back down next to you and kissed your shoulder.

“Caught the tail end of the show!” Steve yelled, his voice muffled through the jet walls.

You and Sam both broke down into peels of laughter and you hid your face in Sam’s chest.

“Get a move on, would you?!” Steve yelled.  “We have a lot to do today.”

You laughed even harder and Sam held you close, pressing a kiss to your forehead.  “Come on, duty calls,” he chuckled.

You let him help you up and the two of you both started cleaning yourselves up the best way you could.  You hoped to god that Steve would say it was time for a break soon, but in the meantime, you were glad you were here with Sam.

// NEXT

[that--unusual-person]

Pillar Men Anatomy

Documented 16 March 2021 (10:23 PM)

By. Tekely von Unusual (that unusual person)

((This was only made for fun so everything here i tried to make similar to canon as possible.  Plus, i love science.  And studying ancient beings.))

Bone Structure

There seem to be bones in a Pillar Mans body.  But when in contact with hamon they seem to vanish.  -Example: Santana’s body being split in half.  His bones are gone and all that shows is the flesh, blood, and muscle of the body.-

Hamon could possibly destroy a Pillar Mans bone easily being directly struck with a ripple.  -Example: Kars’s Bone Blade.  His Bone Blade is made of his own forearms bone, extending outwards, sharpened to act as a knife with a metallic-like look to it.  In contact with hamon via Joseph striking the blade, the weapon is shattered immediately along with hamon coursing through the bone to the flesh of the arm.-  -Counter: Esidisi’s arm.  His arm was rotating with ripple flowing around it.  The second the skin and muscle melted and the rotation stopped the bones were still intact but sizzling.-

It is possible Pillar Men have a flexible bone structure that surpasses reflexive limits but are very weak to hamon.

A Pillar Man can rearrange their bone structure and break it at will.  Their bones can heal in a matter of seconds.  -Example: Santana’s configuration to fit in a 2cm vent.  Wamuu bending his spine in his first fight with Joseph.-

They’re bones can also be sharpened or dulled.  -Example: Kars’s Bone Blades and Santana’s Rib Blades.-

Final Analysts: Bones are infinitely jointed and mandible but very weak to hamon.

Muscles

Body is made of mostly muscle.  When damaged the material of the tissue in the wound is coated in a strange glow to keep an open wound from being infected(?). Glowing is a sign of healing in progress(?).  -Counter: The sunlight reflecting off the moon (possibly) effects the Pillar Mens body.-  -Counter: Glow shows even in areas where sunlight can’t hit and the moon is not present.-

Since Pillar Men don’t need to feed through their mouths, they absorb food through their bodies.  Possible with no stomach they have digestive cells in their muscles that swallow food and reproduce it as energy and muscle.  -Example: Santana eating the vampire prisoner.  As Santana absorbs the vampire the energy transfers from one to another.  When he’s finished Santana’s muscles begin to bulge expanding in mass with some of the vampire still being absorbed, proof that he is consuming nutrients on a cellular level causing muscle growth.-

Final Analysts: Muscles are a very important asset of a Pillar Mans body and are the source of power and energy.

Skin

Same as humans but with more mutant-like abilities.  The skin can stretch without being broken.  -Example:  Santana fitting into a 2cm vent and a human body.  Wamuu dodging Joseph’s surprise Hamon Clacker Valley attack by shifting his upper body a foot or two away from his legs at high speeds.-

The flesh can be manipulated, turning into something similar to soft liquid or solid like rock.  -Example: Santana avoiding Joseph’s attack.  When the knife Joseph used on Santana came in contact with Santana’s arm the flesh around the knife became rubbery, never piercing the skin.  When Joseph tries using hamon through Santana’s eyes, his head deforms while turning his eyes and head into a rubber-like substance.-

-Example: Kars taking bullet fire.  Kars turns his body to rubber to absorb the impact of the bullets/possibly absorbing them. (There is no evidence of blood when Kars is hit.)-

-Example: Santana solidifying his body.  Santana hardens his body the second he comes in contact with the sun, but the armored body he wears can not protect him for long; his body begins to crack and chip away indicating the stone is still apart of his body and the sun still has a deadly effect on him.  When the sun overpowers his stone armor, he turns into a statue, protecting himself completely in solid rock, a last-minute of protection from the rays of the sun.-  -Example: Pillar Men sleeping.  When they rest their bodies turn to stone for protection and security.-  

They possibly morph into a wall and turn to stone, during their stone form they are able to absorb life or turn it to stone when in contact with them.  -Example: Pillar Men absorbing Caesar’s father and Santana turning a snake into stone.  They are still alive and are still feeding on nutrients through the stone.-

Final Analysts: Flesh can be manipulated into any shape or form of material.

Blood

Their blood normal aspects are similar to a human’s normal blood minus control over it.  They can control their blood flow and how hot it can get.  -Example: Esidisi.  Esidisi’s Heat Mode allows him to shoot his blood out of his veins at will.  The blood is boiling reaching 500 degrees max.-

Cells that break down food are also in the blood.  They will work the same way as the muscle but only absorbing food if it stays in the Pillar Mans body.  Their blood is similar to stomach acid, only breaking down food once it reaches the inside of the body but not having an affect once it meets oxygen outside the body.

Final Analysts: Pillar Men can manipulate their blood at anytime.

Horns

A Pillar Man’s horn(s) can mean multiple things depending on the Pillar Man’s purpose.  It is possible the horns can be attracted and retracted.  -Example: Wamuu and Kars.  Wamuu can bring out his horn at command at any time.  Kars hides his horns under his head wrap, with no signs of them it’s confirmed that they are retracted into his head.- 

Some may use it as a weapon.  -Example: Wamuus horn.  Wamuu uses his horn as a weapon or to see wind better than light.  It is used similar a radar feeling wind flow through objects and against them, Wamuu is able to sense where the wind flows and when it stops.  His horn is also used in his ultimate mastery, Atmospheric Rift, where razor blade winds are shot out from the base of the horn.  The spirals on his horn allow the wind to circulate around it and flow out like a tornado giving it enough power and rotation to cut through stone.-  

The horn or horns can be changed in size.  -Example: Wamuu awakening.  When Wamuu wakes he uses his horn to stab a German Soldier holding him in the air and soon after mowing down more with his horn rotating at speeds that slice a human body in half.  The horn is extended to reach what looks to be 9-12 yards long.-

Or it may be seen as a sign of honor or declaration of battle.  -Example: Kars revealing his horns.  Kars said to Lisa Lisa before their dual that bestowing his horn to her marks their battle.-

Another way showing their horns could be as a sign of aggression.  -Example: Esidisi’s last stand.  Upon inescapable defeat, Esidisi reveals one of his many horns through his form when he quotes Joseph of ‘pushing him too far’.  Esidisi’s horn could be shown as an act of rage and transformation (his head turning into something similar to a beast).-

Final Analysts: Horns can be controlled and be used as symbols or weapons.

Marks

The Pillar Men’s tribal marks are given to them at birth similar to birthmarks.  -Example: Baby Wamuu.  During the flashback about Kars’s uprising, we see Wamuu as a babe with his horn yet to have grown but the mark he wears is there.-

Some marks are passed on by families, all are different in shapes and colors(???).  The mark of the Pillar Man’s meanings and or history is earned and titles behind the marks.  -Example: Strength.  Wamuu’s strength physical and mental strength in battle is how he earned his tribal marks meaning.-

Final Analysts: Pillar Men tribal marks are compared to human birthmarks.

Regeneration

Cells in a Pillar Man’s body is boosted to reproduce new skin tissue rather than scar tissue.  Bone modeling is enhanced, the regrowth is shortened to near minutes of completion.  Bones seem to grow after the flesh and muscle are attached or regrown.  Any dose of hamon to a Pillar Man’s body will slow down the regeneration.  -Example: Kars’s injured arm.  When Joseph struck Kars’s Bone Blade with hamon, it shattered the blade along with hamon radiating through the arm.  In the span of minutes Kars’ arm continues to ooze with the glowing substance.-

Final Analysts: Regeneration abilities are quicker versions of the body healing wounds and modeling bones.

Before the masks

Pillar Men were possibly similar to humans before Kars invented the mask.  They live longer lives but reproduction is rare.  They seem to hunt animals instead of humans, showing they need nutrients as humans do.  -Example: Kars’s flashback.  It is seen at a wide dinner table the Pillar tribe is seen eating nutrients such as meat and other fruits and vegetables.-

Final Analysts: Pillar Men before the mask have similar traits as humans.

Final Evolution

The final mask used to complete a Pillar Man’s evolution seems to give them extra genes and immunity to sunlight.  The genes given to a Pillar Man are connected to nature.  They are able to form their bodies into different parts of an animal.  -Example: Kars.  He is able to create wings from his arms to his back, scales that reflect bullets that are capable of turning into paranas to tentacles from his arms or even from detached parts of his skin.-

They also have the power to create other living beings from their body but at the cost of their body.  Essentially playing god.  -Example: Kars creating a squirrel.  Kars is able to create a squirrel from his hand and is possible a part of his mind in the form of an animal, sharing the same body and genes.  On the squirrels return to Kars, it then morphs into different living objects of nature.-

Final Analysts: The final evolution of a Pillar Men gives them extra genes from different living organisms of nature.

Modes

A Pillar Man’s mode is powered by their body.  Esidisi’s being heat, Wamuu of wind, Kars of light, and Santana a master of the body and flesh.  It seems they can only control the element of their mode only through their body.  -Counter: Wamuu.  Wamuu retracting Caesar’s blood bubble towards him with his wind mode or lighting the fire more.- 

It could be possible Wamuu spins his body at such speeds unseen by the human eye that the wind is attracted to him, or Wamuu uses his pipes from his chest to suck air in, he could possibly pull wind into his body and is able to shoot it out through his fingertips like Esidisi releases his veins.  Wamuu’s divine sandstorm is caused by high-speed rotations of his arms.  They rotate at a max velocity similar to a jet engine on a plane causing great winds enough to damage stone to appear.  Kars can only use his light from his body, it’s possible he uses his bone blades to reflect artificial light off one another to add a blinding light to it.  It is unknown how Kars is able to form light through his body.  Esidisi is able to control the temperature of his body with ease.  Similar to a human getting a fever, Esidisi heats his body up boosting fever-like symptoms burning his body and boiling his blood during the process.  Similar to a fire under a kettle of tea.

Final Analysts: Pillar Men modes are centered around their bodies’ natural capabilities and movements.

Conclution: They evolve like Pokemon.  lol

[liliesoftherain]

My Hero Academia Main 3 Boys x Reader

Ch. 19 Endeavors Agency

A/N: Sorry for the long wait, but here's the next part of the series! I just realized I hit over 2000 followers, and I honestly don't deserve it at all. Thank you guys for your compassion and understanding, and I hope to generate more content you like. I might be willing to do an event, and turn my requests back for a short amount of time, but we'll see.

Masterlist

“Are you all ready for tomorrow? I still don’t know how I feel about you staying at Endeavor’s agency for the week.”

You hold in a sigh, choosing to smile instead--even if he couldn’t see you.

“Yeah dad, I’m all ready to go,” you knew of your dad’s--distaste--for the number two, even if he wouldn’t say it, “and I hope I’ll be able to learn a lot from this--although I know you’re probably the better teacher.”

He hums at your praise, you can hear his amusement over the phone.

“I’ll always have room for you at the office, just say the word.”

“I’m sure you’ll have your hands full with Bakugou, dad.”

“I hope to reform that boy, by the looks of him, he has pride sewn into the very fiber of his being.”

“Sounds about right-”

“Plus, he was getting a bit too cozy with my daughter, I have half the mind to question him about it.”

“Dad!” You elongate the word, turning it into a groan at the end as he just chuckles at your misery. 

Moving on from the topic, you change the conversation to something lighter--mundane things about school and work before having to hang up the phone. He was unable to come home tonight, meaning you wouldn’t be seeing him until you got back. Unfortunately, you were used to calls instead of in-person goodnights--even if it was a bit lonely sometimes, you pushed on. 

 After ending the call, you get ready for bed--thoughts of the week ahead making it difficult to fall asleep.

-----

“Everyone has their costumes, right? You can’t wear them out in public unless you’re given permission--and don’t lose them either, understood?”

“Yep, loud and clear!”

“Speak properly Ashido, it’s yes sir. You all need to mind your manners.”

“Yes sir..”

You grin at Mina’s dejected face, only patting her back in comfort once you were dismissed. You wave goodbye to her as she heads to her station, looking back in search of your internship buddy. 

After spotting him, you make your way over to his side to see his attention on Iida as he marches off.

“Todoroki?”

He turned to look at you, blinking owlishly as he snapped out of whatever thoughts he had been consumed by.

“Hakamata, hello.”

In some ways, you were looking forward to the internship. Ever since the sports festival, you’ve been able to regard Todoroki in a brand new light. He wasn’t as stuck up as you first took him for, if anything his reactions only made it seem that way. 

The boy was just--awkward. 

“Shall we get going then?”

He nodded in agreement, and you both leisurely walked towards your train. Sitting side-by-side after baording, suitcases in your laps respectively. The trip there was pretty quiet, and you were glad to say it wasn’t an awkward one. It was different, being so used to rambles from people like Mina and Izuku, or even loud and rowdy conversations with Eijiro or Bakugou. Yet with Todoroki, words weren’t needed to fill the air, it was comforting all on its own. 

It didn’t take long to reach Tokyo, arriving at the station quicker than you thought. You both get off, having to walk the rest of the way to the large building. It was bigger than your father’s, and you felt slightly intimidated. Todoroki looked over as your steps faulted, tilting his head in silent communication. You give a tight smile, ushering your nerves down as you make your way inside. 

“Hello!” The woman at the front desk beamed, “Endeavor has been waiting for you two, why don’t you go and head up to his office!” 

She gave you the quick directions, waving you off as you stepped into the elevator. Todoroki had seemed tense now that he was actually about to see his dad, and you couldn’t blame him. Your last interaction with the man wasn’t the best, if anything you were downright rude.

All within reason, of course. 

You arrive on the floor that his office was located on, stepping out of the elevator and having to walk through a room filled to the brim with sidekicks to get to the room. After receiving the okay to enter, you step inside to realize the entire part of the building was his office. The room was huge; marble walls with high ceilings, a crystal chandelier hung above a seating area and all the way towards the far wall, at a large oak desk, was the man who you’d have to put up with for the next week. 

You heard a bitter sigh come from your companion, and you give a quick glance of reassurance in his direction. He does the same before you two make your way into the room. If you thought it was intimidating before, the scarce lighting made it even more so--the room relatively dim, save for the rays of the setting sun peeking in through the wall of windows on the right hand side.

“Shoto, I’ve been waiting for you.” A deep voice speaks up as you both stop to stand in front of his desk.

Endeavor is standing as well, smirking down at the both of you before focusing his attention on his son. 

“I’m glad you made this decision. You’re finally ready to walk down the path of the mighty.”

“I have no intention of following any path you’ve created. Only I can decide my future.”

The surge of pride you feel as Todoroki stands up for himself falters as a chuckle falls from Endeavor.

“Is that so?” He glances between the both of you, “you both should go get ready then, we’re going out.”

“Where to?” Todoroki answers, looking surprised. 

“I’m going to show you both what it means to be a hero.”

-----

The sun has long been set as the three of you patrol the streets of Tokyo, whispers following as you did. It was very different, the energy a complete contrast from what you’ve seen with your dad and his patrols. People called out to him all the time, big grins on their faces’ as they waved enthusiastically. However, the people around here looked intimidated by the large pro hero. In awe yes, but nervous to approach him at the same time. You couldn’t blame them, Endeavors aura was very nerve-wracking.

However, despite the feeling he gave off, things were calm. The peace surrounded everyone and everything around--laughter and smiles was seen all around. It was great; this is how life should be, no one should be fearful. 

“Rescue, evacuation, and suppression. There are the three fundamentals required of all heroes. Most agencies are established on a foundation of either “rescue” or “suppression”. However, my agency does not. Remember that. We are grounded in all three of these fundamentals, combined.”

You and Todoroki nod, listening to Endeavor’s speech as he stomps on. 

“You have to remain focused--memorize every single detail of your jurisdiction. Don’t let a single irregularity slip by. Be on-site faster than anyone else. Minimize all casualties by keeping all citizens far away as possible.”

He didn’t look back once--his focus never wavering, remaining on the crowds around him. 

“These are the basics of the basics, do you understand?”

“Yes sir.” You answer.

“Yeah.” Todoroki spoke, as enthusiastic as ever.

“Then keep up.”

In the blink of an eye, Endeavor was gone. You blinked owlishly, sharing a look with Todoroki before you both rushed off after the number two. It was hard to keep up, the hero using his flames to accelerate his speed. 

Todoroki was using his ice to help him, almost in the same way, while you used the move you picked up in the sports festival--allowing your light to harden under your feet, to extend and give you a boost. While you would be faster if you allowed your body to transform into light particles, you weren’t very efficient with it, you’d need some more training before you could try to use it in your day-to-day activities. 

You finally heard the wailing of police sirens and the screeching of tires. 

You were shocked Endeavor had noticed so far away, but you suppose that’s what it means to be the number two hero. 

In a less populated area, down a mostly deserted road, there was a large truck being tailed by three different police vehicles, with no sign of stopping. The getaway truck was being reckless, swerving all over without a care of what--or who--it ran over. 

Trying to boost your speed to get there quicker, you were left to stop short as the truck suddenly came to a screeching stop. Endeavor had stopped the truck with his own body, acting as an obstacle halting it from moving any further. You watched in awe as the criminals inside were apprehended accordingly, Endeavor having full control of the situation. While you weren’t able to do anything but watch--since you were only interns and didn’t have hero licenses to be able to use your quirks like that in public--you still took in every detail you could, exactly like Endeavor had told you to. 

The way there were no casualties, or any injuries of the citizens for that matter, and even though there was damage to the area around him, it was insignificant to what could have been if they continued on for even just another few minutes. In the short amount of time it took for Endeavor to race over and stop the villains, so much had already been done.

‘A real pros power…’

“Let’s go. We aren’t done.”

-----

You awake bright and early the next day, feeling exhausted from how long you stayed out last night. The three of you ended patrolling for the next few hours without any other exciting things to happen. Endeavor tended to mainly ignore you, but he did ask about what your goal was overall--if anything you were shocked that he was speaking to you civilly.

You explained how you wanted to get the experience you needed to be a great hero, and do it on your own accord. How you wanted to use your quirk to the best of your ability and save lives. You weren’t here to play around, you wanted to do something good--you wanted to be useful. He gave you a simple speech of encouragement--if you could call it that--before dropping the subject as he ranted to Todoroki about all the great things he could learn from him. 

 It was a night to remember, and you did learn something pretty valuable, so you’d have to give him that.

You walk out into the main area--the one you had to walk through yesterday to get to Endeavor’s office--with your hero uniform already on, ready to see what was on the agenda for the day. The room was large, holding plenty of office desks and important equipment, as if Endeavor had his own intelligence force right in the middle of his agency. Seeing as how many cases the number two hero took on--as well as how many cases his plentiful amount of sidekicks took on--it wasn’t a surprise.

Glancing around, you couldn’t find Todoroki, instead coming face-to-face with one of the many sidekicks held in the agency.

“Hey there kiddo, welcome to the Endeavor Hero Agency!” The woman laughs boisterously.

Her copper-green hair flickered around her head, a cocky smirk on her lips, and a wicked gleam in her amber eyes all made you alert. She wasn’t a threat, but her attitude was the exact opposite of Endeavor’s.

Just a bit weird.

“Ah, yes, thank you.” You bow, only to be thrown off guard as she pats--more like slaps--your back repeatedly.

“Oh come on, don’t be so formal! I’m going to end up putting you to work right away, even if you’re going to have to fight for the right to work alongside us!” She cackles loudly, and you sweat drop as she reminds you of a certain pinkett back at school.

“Luminary.”

You push off Burnin and look towards Todoroki as he walks up beside you, also just as ready as you were to start the day.

“Shoto, good morning.”

It felt a little embarrassing at first, to be calling Todoroki by his first name, but you remembered it’s what he had chosen as his hero name. The entirety of the night before, only code names were used, so now it was second nature. 

“Shoto-kun! I’d say the same for you, but you’ll probably be stuck with Endevor while miss Luminary here will have to kick it with us,” Burnin tries to slap you on the back again but you quickly dodge, causing her to grin to widen, “since, yanno, Endeavor really only cares about you!”

Todorki scoffs at the notion, even if it was true. He was eyeing Burnin as she continued to try and pester you. It’s odd, seeing you in a different setting outside of school. He noticed how quiet you’ve been, and while that wasn’t a bad thing, you were always pretty upbeat and talkative in school. 

You kept up with Bakugou’s rambunctious actions, Midroiya’s rambles, Ashido’s exuberant personality, and even Kirishima’s upbeat attitude. However, ever since you both stepped onto the train to come to the agency, you’ve kept to yourself for the most part. You soaked up all the information you could, even if you were being a little wary of Endeavor. 

Todoroki had indeed noticed, and he would be too in your position, shoot, he already was wary of his old man and all the ideas he had running around in his head. However, right now in this moment Todoroki saw the flicker of fire sparking again as you tried to keep the older sidekick from putting you into a headlock. It was good to see you as yourself, you always did know how to light up a room.

“Shoto.” The smile playing on the boy's lips fell as he heard his father.

You quickly detach yourself from Burnin’s hold, straightening up as Endevors approached. His hard gaze barely looked in your direction, focused on his son as always.

“Shoto,” he repeats, “We’ll be having an important mission today.”

Endoavor finally looks at you, the frown on his face stays in place--but it doesn’t get any deeper either. 

“As for you Luminary, you shall be shadowing Burnin for the time being.”

“Yes sir!” Burning salutes the pro before shrugging an arm around your shoulder. 

Todoroki glances at you from the corner of his eyes, and he sees how your shoulders fall ever-so-slightly. It was practically unnoticable, but he saw it. You were disappointed, the only reason Todoroki convinced you to come was because he knew that working with the man who had the speed and instincts of a number two pro hero was a great opportunity--even if his old man was a scumbag. He had to acknowledge his talents. 

“I want Hakamata to come.”

The silence between the two was stifling, the heated glares acting as a silent conversation. You eyed Todoroki bewildered, confused as to why he was questioning Endeavor's decision. Sure, you were annoyed and somewhat disappointed, but you expected this. You were prepared to be treated as second best. 

After all, people like them were always good at making people like you feel inferior. 

“What?”

“I want Hakamata to be able to attend this mission with us.”

Endeavors eyes shut briefly, before doing the unexpected.

“If that’s what you want. Be ready, the both of you, we’re leaving soon,” he turns to the rest of the members in the room, “We’re taking a work trip to Hosu.”

“Yes sir!”

As Endeavor turns to leave, you smile brightly at Todoroki.

“Thanks Shoto.” 

“Uh, yeah, sure.” His head faces the floor, he couldn’t bring himself to look you in the eyes.  

“Let’s hurry then, we have a city to get to!”

“Right.”

-----

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[jessiebanethedragon]

BOG to YYZ (Javier x reader)

Hey all! not too sure where this came from, but i was walking in the snow today and had this idea of bringing Javi home for the first time!  I’m Canadian so it takes place in Canada, sorry it’s not more ambiguous i just felt compelled to belt this one shot out outta nowhere. 

Please let me know what you think!

Javier x Canadian!Reader

Javier was such a beautiful sleeper, you lost count of how many sleepless nights you spent watching him softly snore. Those humid days in Bogata, and anxiety ridden nights in Medellin were overshadowed by him shirtless and passed out on your bed, those nights where he’d pull you closer and closer in his sleep for fear of you slipping away. And the dull ache in your neck from looking up at his face, finally calm while he slept. 

Seeing him now feels so different, passed out in the window seat of the airplane, dress shirt unwrinkled and hand not hovering above his belt where he kept his gun. The Narcos were gone, Pablo Escobar no more. 

“What will you do when we’ve caught him?” You’d asked one night, stuck in a cop car just outside of a narcos den, waiting for something to happen. 

“What will you do maravillosa?” He retorted, pulling his sunglasses down to look into your eyes, even though in the dead of night he didn’t need them anyways. 

“I’d like to see my family again.” You told him softly, thinking of the thick snowflakes and broad pine trees sent pangs of longing through your chest. 

“You never talk about them.” Javier commented, lighting a cigarette and opening his window. 

“You never talk about yours.” You quipped back, noticing his raised eyebrow even though he was staring at the Sicario den across the street. Your voice, he noted, was softer now, the same way it would soften when you whispered reassuringly to him after a particularly bad day. 

“I don’t like my family.” He pressed, purposely leaving  gasps in the conversation in hopes of getting you to talk. 

“Well, i don’t really either, i guess my family isn’t really my family, it’s more close friends, and then their families, i don’t know, it just made sense to me when i was little, and i never thought about it I guess,” You were playing with your hands again out of nerves, and he was startled to realise, you wanted him to like your family. 

“That’s what we’ll do then.” Javier told you firmly. Flicking his cigarette to the ground even though he wasn’t done with it yet. You began to smile at him before you caught movement from the building, two figures exiting out a side door. One hand flying to the car door and the other to your gun, moving to get out of the car, Javies hand stopped you. 

“I mean it, when this is over we’ll fly out, I'll meet your folks, we can stay for a bit, put this whole mess behind us. I mean it Maravillosa.” You really smiled at that, and pulled him in for a quick kiss to seal the promise. 

“Well then, let's catch these Batados then.” You smirked, and Javier didn’t even have it in him to tell you that you’d said Batted instead of Bastards. 

Landing in Toronto in early January was something else entirely. The snow had settled firmly by late december and now all there was to greet people was frigid winds and dangerous ice. And yet you couldn't stop smiling at the familiar biting cold and puffs of air that could be seen as you exhaled. 

Finding your excitedly waiting family was a mission all on its own. Becoming a fluster of hugs, hellos, and ‘we’ve heard so much about you’ to your boyfriend in a situation that you thought for sure wasn’t Javier friendly. 

“Kiddos run ahead and get the car started for your auntie, it’s been a long time since  she was  in the cold.” You sister said, passing along the keys to her children who took off running through the car park. 

“Thanks.” You said trying to subtly wrestle Javi into a beanie and out of his baseball hat. And pulling a face when he kept meeting you hands as you went to put the hat on. 

“We saw the news,” your mum whispered. “Are you both okay?” 

“He’s dead.” You stated, “that's all that matters, wasn't either of us who pulled the trigger anyways.” 

“Your mum wanted to throw a party.” Your dad chuckled, oh how you missed his brashness. “Celebrate the asshole being dead.” Javier chuckled. 

“That sounds like a party I'd be interested in.” 

Javier hates the snow. He hates wearing the stupid jackets and having to preapre himself with various layers and accessories just to be able to walk out the front door. He hates having to clean off the car,  and most of all he hates how dark it gets halfway through the afternoon. On top of that he never knows what in the hell your dad is talking about and he’s sick of trying to remember the difference between a Toonie and a Loonie. Why did he think this was a good idea? And why the fuck did he think he’d fit in with your family? But it’s you, and he’d do anything for you, so even on the days when he wants to take off back to columbia, leave like he did at the altar of his last meaningful relationship, he wouldn't do that to you. 

You’re sitting on the couch with a cup of coffee that gets extended to him as he joins you, taking a sip and grimacing at the amount of sugar that's in it he hands the cup back. 

“My mum says they're all going over to my aunt and uncles tonight.” You tell him, waiting to gauge his reaction.  

“I thought you hated your aunt?” He says stealing your cup again after you’ve had a sip, still pulling a face at how sweet the beverage is. 

“No this is my aunt who isn't really my aunt.” You explain. 

“Ohhh, you mean the couple that lived next to you guys who are more like grandparents?” Javier asks, trying to keep names and people straight in his head. You make a noise of conformation as you take another sip of coffee.  

“I can get us out of going.” You offer, 

“Why would we do that?” Javier questions, confused, maybe he was missing something, or confusing them with someone else but as far as he knew you loved this side of your non-family. 

“I don’t know, there’s gonna be a lot of people there, and it’s really different from Columbia and you hate the snow and…” You trail off. 

“And?” he’s pushing you to continue talking. Damn DEA tactics, you think to yourself. 

“And I think you hate it here.” You say flatly, months of fighting dirty in Columbia has hardened you, there's no such thing as letting it down gently anymore. 

“I don’t hate it here.” He lies. “it’s just…” he stops for a moment. “It's just not Columbia.” 

“Do you  want to go back to Columbia?” You ask, you’ve been nervous to have this conversation, but you don’t show it, another perk of dealing with the world's most dangerous drug dealers, you’ve learned to hide your fears. 

“No... yes, no. Maybe.” Javier admits, thinking back to that first day, when you showed up at the embassy, long sleeves and cardigan like it wasnt hot as hell outside. How you stumbled through spanish and furred your eyebrows every time he talked too fast. 

“We can go, if you want.” Your voice brings him back to the moment. “We can go back to Columbia.” 

“Maravillosa…” Javier sighs, pulling you into his chest. 

“I don’t mind, honestly.” You tell him, scared he’s slipping further away the longer he stays. 

“I don’t want to go back to Columbia.” He tells you with a kiss on your head. 

“Promise?” 

“sí prometo.” 

Now this is Javier's kind of scene, you’re crowded around the fireplace in someone's garage passing around food and alcohol without a care in the world. He’s settled into a campfire chair, one arm over your shoulder with a beer in his hand and a cigarette in his mouth, courtesy of your extended family. They listen to all his plights in Colombia and respond with warm laughs and calming comments. This is something he could get used to, maybe not the snow, but when a friend of your dad's friend offers to take him hunting, Javier actually finds himself wanting to go, and not only to upstage Steve the next time he sees him. It’s so picture perfect that the Javier Pena who existed before he met you would’ve gagged at the sight. 

And yet, when his phone rings, and he excuses himself to take it, standing outside in the horrible weather. Answering it with a “Pena”, and rubbing his forehead in anxiety as the voice on the other side begins to talk, he cuts them off. 

“I’ll be in Bogata by the end of the week.” He tells the DEA agent on the other end of the line, he does it without thinking, without hesitating. And when he stomps out of the cigarette in the snow, he wonders how he is going to tell you that now, after everything he went through,  after all his promises, he is going after the Cali Cartel. 

Translations: 

Maravillosa - Gorgeous 

sí prometo - I  promise

[now-im-a-belieber]

from the ground up

A vague 1917 drabble! It's quite tragic and angsty. But... happy ending-ish? Inspired by that one scene, you'll know the one. 

══════════════════

Today you found out what the worst things are. 

Not only to lose something beloved. But to be stripped of such love that your hope for ever finding any again is crushed just a surely. 

To sit in darkness that is such, that a flame from a candle you find only reminds you of the light you have all too suddenly become devoid of.

It gave you no comfort. It only helps you see what's right in front of you. The tatters of the place you'd once strived to keep clean. The ashes of the structure that shielded you from all sorts of bad weather, covering blankets that would not keep you as warm as you needed to be any longer. But they were all you had. Dust covered blankets, a dull candle and overturned memories you'd never get the proper chance to sift through if you cared more about making it out of this place alive.

For a moment you considered staying as you were, wreckage among wreckage. To wither away with blown apart story book pages. To die here where she had. 

What if you'd heard the bombs coming? What if you had time to tuck her in and send her sleeping before everything ended? Would you still feel this way now? 

What if she had made it, and you had not? What would she do with no words and a walk she'd only just started practicing? Was it better this way? 

You could not stay here. You could die here, like she had. And for a moment you wanted too. For a moment you sat and stared past the light of the candle into the darkness and wondered if your bones ached as much as your soul, if you'd ever be able to feel much of anything again.

And the darkness grew with nightfall, as you argued with yourself over whether to move. You'd only gotten as far as what was left of the kitchen. You tested the lamp in the corner, out of instinct. Not of hope. Because you had none left you weren't disappointed to find the darkness covered you still. Was it possible you'd known your way around so well the halls well enough that that bricks blocking your way were only a minor inconvenience? Was it better to stay here, in a place you could no longer thrive in, but knew well enough to survive? 

You drifted back and forth, like you had when you silenced so many of your daughters night terrors. Now you lived through your own, and found no comfort in the way you tried to shake away the shock. You thought of no plan. You only thought of what had happened. And couldn't even think of what had resulted since the explosion. You just relieved it. Lived in it. Listened for her cries you knew would no longer come but would haunt you forever, however long that might be, now.

Then, past the ringing in your ears, lower hums and sharper shuffles could be heard. You recognized a foreign language beyond the blown apart walls of your home, and ducked away from the busted out windows in case whoever passed by wasn't nearly as afraid.

There was no telling the topic of the conversation they shared. You wondered if you'd even care to know the banter they traded in such a time as this. 

You knew they wouldn't save you. You didn't feel you needed saving. You didn't feel much of anything, all the while. Not even when the distant sound of gunfire and battle cries broke through the way you'd started to slip into unconsciousness amidst the dirt and dust. 

But when the shuffle of feet crept closer to the bits of home left hanging over your head, you found your heart was still intact. It started to thud and fill your chest, pushing your stomach into a nervous clench. You were still alive and your body was fighting to stay that way, it seemed. 

There was no time to clamor over the rubble, or hide behind the overturned dining table that could've easily been turned right side up and used, but never would be again. 

Instead you stood and stalled on the opposite side of the entry doorway a stranger had staggered to pause in. The silhouette of a soldier was neither a comfort or a curse. Not yet. His stance was frozen like yours, uncertain. He lifted both hands, and stayed where he was as you prepared for every possibility, for the worst you could think of. 

But nothing changed still. What was he waiting for? If only he'd drag you away, or shoot you down. If only this never ending nightmare would end. It was then you feared this was nothing more than a dream. That time had frozen inside the remains of your home, and the man who'd nearly entered, couldn't. 

His cautious step inside brought you back to reality. Almost relief. You had not floated into a stalled version of the worst moment in time. But it was still going on all around you. 

"I want nothing." He said. And somehow you understood. It was the only thing you'd been sure of, since the darkness swallowed everything whole, and spit you out to save for later. 

You watched the soldier move, slow, his broad shadow covered hands still raised to face you. He crept further, until he reached the window you'd been spying out of for what seemed like forever now. He did the same. And you saw the man's profile against the light of distant fire and fury. You saw the notch in his brow and his frown that grew as his eyes swept across the view from your window. He would not have known what was there before. The picket fences and pie shops to look for in the distance. The view you'd been used to, until today. 

And when the soldier turned away from searching his eyes found you. 

"Are you hurt?" He asked, turning slowly to evaluate you as you stood with no idea of the answer. A shake of your head was all you could manage, unsure otherwise. His sweeping gaze didn't seem to twist or change, so you must've appeared to be fine. 

But he looked a mess. Hair swept back with dirt. All the color of his face gone besides the dark circles under his eyes. And as you searched his frame, past his ripped and worn but otherwise fine looking uniform you saw the crimson covered cloth wrapped around his hand, and a jagged line of torn flesh traveling up his wrist, uncovered by the useless makeshift bandage.  

You moved from your place in the middle of the room, carefully maneuvering to clear the arm chair in the corner of fallen debris. You turned to find the soldier watching you, and waved him to sit. After one of those pauses that made you question time, he floated toward the chair and sat as you suggested. 

You'd been busy before this. And the apron that remained around your midsection was only good for one thing now. You untied the garment and ripped the fabric into reasonable bits. 

He did not ask what you were doing. Not even when you knelt at his side and started to remove the poor bandage he must've made himself along his way. Where was he going, you wondered? How had either of you ended up here? 

As you'd secured a couple pieces of cloth around his healing wound, you felt the soldiers eyes watching. You looked up to him, when you'd finished. And at the softness in his expression despite everything, you wondered again if this was all a dream. 

It’s only the sound of gun fire and battle cries growing nearer that snap you back to the realization that this is your life now. And the softness on the soldiers face before you had started to turn cold.

"I cannot stay here." He said, a bevy of emotion lied somewhere in his tone past the way he seemed tense and hardened by whatever it was he spoke of. Wherever he was going, or had already been. 

"Neither can I." You say. You can die here. You'd started too. "But I do not know how to leave." 

This was all you had left of your life. Of her life. Her first cries came from here. Her last, too. You could not take her with you. And you couldn't understand where to turn without her, now. 

After another pause you wished meant time had stopped, it only seemed to tick by like one final warning. 

"Do you trust me?" The soldier asked. 

You did not know. But past the candle light, the darkness was broken up by a pair of eyes glinting into yours. And the working hand of a soldier extended to meet yours. 

He pulled you away from the candle light. You clutched onto him through the doorway, past the darkness. And as the pair of you crept into the tattered city, ducking behind rubble and dashing toward freedom, the unknown past the light of all the fire and fury wasn't nearly as dark as it had seemed to hang in the only home you'd known. All that was left of it was shadows. And since you'd gone, you didn't worry about leaving her there, because that wasn't where she was anymore. So you couldn't stay. 

And maybe.... maybe there was hope to be considered; from the look in the eyes of the soldier who stayed by your side until sunrise and admitted then, he was just as scared as you.

[redhawtriot]

Baby Boom (Bakugou x Reader)

Tip Jar ☕- Not expected but always appreciated💞

I am posting at not my normal time at ALL, but I really wanted to get this chapter out so I can work on my favorite chapter so far lol (month five is boutta be LIT) if the tags aren’t working i’ll fix them tomorrow they are acting weird rn. 

Thx, for the patience. Love y'all

extra chapter warning: sexual harassment, nsfw..ish

HnM 💕

Month 1, Month 2, Month 4

--MONTH 3--

It was a Friday night about two months ago when Katsuki Bakugou had found himself on the second floor of Club 52—or “the booty room”—as it’s so brusquely known.

But he sure as hell didn’t fucking belong here-- Surrounded by drunken idiots when he had to stay alert and keep his mind sharp-- groped on by inebriated/drugged up women who he would simply growl at in return-- drenched in the germy sweat of the fucking extras around him when he could be at home in his clean bed thinking about how to improve himself tomorrow.

Honestly. How in the flying fuck did he let those three walking hairstyles talk him into coming to this shit show?

The driving beat of the music dancing within his chest was his only saving grace, its constant booming throwing him into a state of familiar comfort as he watched the colorful lights burst around him. He had to admit… they were nice…

No!

Fuck that! He still didn’t belong here, dammit! His roommates, Dumb, Dumber and Dumbest, had all three nagged, and nagged, and nagged him to come here the entire week.

At their begging, Bakugou quite frankly wished that he had lost even more of his hearing than he already had from his quirk. Maybe he could find one of his old drumsticks and jam it into his head—or up those idiots’ asses, “Ahh! I’LL GO! JUST LEAVE ME THE FUCK ALONE!” It was the only way to keep him from losing his job as a hero and committing a triple homicide. 

So yeah, that’s how he ended up in the booty room—and he wasn’t gonna gratify those damn idiots for even a second by enjoying just an ounce of the hellscape.  

“You’re not drinking, huh?”

A sudden inquiry snapped the man out of his thoughts, and he found himself whipping his head around to face the feminine voice that had cut through the loud room. As soon as his eyes encountered yours, Bakugou felt his jaw drop slightly at the sight.

But then he quickly noticed the way that your eyes flickered down to his mouth, and the mocking way that your lips began curving up into a smirk at his display. He wanted to kiss knock that smug look clean off your pretty face. He immediately clenched his jaw back shut and hardened his traitor of an expression so that no more slip-ups could be had.

The two of you sized each other up for a moment before you slickly glanced over your shoulder with a nod, “So I am guessing those belong to you, then?” you motioned toward Mayonnaise, Ketchup and Mustard—all three of Bakugou’s roommate idiots making a theatrical, display in the middle of the dance floor.

Kirishima—who had long taken his shirt off by this point-- noticed Bakugou’s disapproving gaze and attempted a wave back, only to lean into a drunken stumble.

Bakugou clicked his tongue, snapping his regard from the (flat out embarrassing) show “I’m not anyone’s damn babysitter. They’re grown men. They can fucking handle themselves!”

“Good… I’d like to have you to myself for a while,” you turned to the bar-tending counter and beckoned for two drinks.

Bakugou eyed how the man behind the counter ingested you. He was a lion looking for his prey’s weakness and you didn’t even seem to notice—or care. He glared at the man, subconsciously taking a step toward you to speak as the bartender handed you your drink, “For what?” Bakugou asked you flatly. He didn’t even know why the hell he was entertaining this.

You simply shrugged, throwing your eyes up as innocently as you could with the contrarily wicked smirk that befell your face, “To… talk.”

“Yeah right. You’ve got some freak look in your eye. You want something else.”

“Well, hell yeah! Have you seen yourself?” you laughed and Bakugou couldn’t tell whether the stutter in his chest was from your utter bluntness, or from the melody of your happiness, “Anyway, I wont waste your time—or mine. Come find me if you want to…” you trailed off as you handed him the second drink in your hands. You had to bite your lip from smiling too hard, “…Talk. Ba-Bye~.”

As soon as you were the short ear distance away and faded into the dense crowd, the bartender gave a low whistle, “She was fucking fit as hell. God, the things I would do to her!” Bakugou felt his face twitch suddenly as the man continued his rant, “She’d never be able to walk that pretty little walk ever again. Yo, let’s hope she’ll still be here by the time I get off!” he chuckled but Bakugou didn’t see any thing fucking funny about what the bastard said. He might live in what is effectively a hero’s version of a frat house, but still, he never understood “locker room talk.”

Bakugou angrily downed the entire drink in his tight grip in one long pull before slamming it back onto the counter forcefully. His red eyes burned holes through the bartender’s fearful ones—the cup breaking apart under his palm, “She won’t be. Keep your dirty eyes off her, you bastard,” Bakugou didn’t even allow the man an opportunity to rebuttal as he stormed away, his fiery glare set intently on one thing only—or one person only…

That night Bakugou watched intently as the ceiling above him teetered and danced for a moment—sinking into the deep feeling of numbness that his intoxicated mind had succumbed to after about his fourth drink. He wasn’t exactly used to this feeling—this caving in on himself and sense of absolute relaxation as he melted into his bed.

Sinking.

              ...Sinking.

Wait, was his bed really sinking? His eyebrows furrowed into a state of confusion before he heard a sigh coming from next to him. Things finally clicked into place in his slowed mind.

Oh yeah. That’s right…

He would never get used to having someone else in his bed, probably.

Bakugou turned to where you were imprinting yourself down onto his mattress. You laughed at his stern expression, extending your arm to caress the side of his face, “God, your face is s’ intense like that. It gives me chills,” your thumb danced across the permanent furrow of his eyebrow. There had to be a magnet underneath his skin somewhere right about there that kept the brows in a constant state of attraction.

He snapped his face away from you as the magnet’s strength intensified and twisted his expression even deeper into anger, “Heh?” Goddamn, you were a fucking difficult girl to read for as blunt as you were.

You march up to him in the club like you own the damn place and send him heart eyes and flirtatious body signals, just to stone cold walk away like he never even existed? You proclaim that you want to fuck him, yet made him dance with you for almost an hour before you lead him out?? You let him fuck you in thirty different directions, just to call him out for looking “intense?!!” His friends (if you could fucking call them that) always said that he had an ugly mug, the jealous bastards, but why would a girl he slept with--

“You’re jus’ beautiful is all,” you faintly slurred, instantly hushing any of his thoughts and softening his expression, “People tell me all the time ‘You’re a pretty girl! You should smile more, but why th’ hell should I go around smilin’ for people who don’ deserve it? If they don’ like my resting state, then—”

“Then they can fuck themselves.”

“Yeah,” you looked up at him with a lazy smile. To a sober mind there was no doubt that your expression was an obviously drunken happiness, but to Bakugou’s in that moment—he couldn’t help but think that maybe there was something deeper behind that smile. You giggled, “They can fuck themselves,” you agreed more heartedly-- leaning into Bakugou and rolling him onto his back before snaking your way on top of him. You planted a trail of wet kisses up his neck and finished by making a small bite on his jaw “And maybe you can fuck me,”

Your warm breath on his sensitive neckline made him shiver underneath his skin, but he prayed that you couldn’t feel it. He scoffed to cover the pathetic display, “Again?”

You laughed before planting even more smiling kisses all over him—pressing your body even further into his with each one, “and again. and again. and again…”

“Pervert.” Bakugou tried to grab you by your hips to keep you from grinding into him even further—or at least that was what he intended to do; however, instead he ended up using them to guide your rhythm in rubbing against him.

You laughed again as you sat up on top of him and pressed your hands to his chest—your hips far from slowing down or stopping, “Maybe so, but can y’ really blame me? I have this guy in bed with me who isn’t even tryin’ to make me smile, but I have been fucking cheesin’ it up all night with ‘em.”

Bakugou didn’t even try to fight the growing smile on his face. It really was damn corny and pathetic--whatever this was between the two of you. But it felt so… so fucking right to him.

Still, he was going to tease you-- otherwise he wouldn't be him, “Well, I have this girl in bed with me who won’t stop smiling and it’s really fucking starting to creep me the hell out,” he suddenly flipped you onto the bed and mounted himself on top of you before placing his own assault of kisses on your body. His face only reemerging to take in your stupid, corny, beautiful smile for a long second. 

You were absolutely stunning in every respect of the word.

Yet--

Two months later, the same face that now stood in front of him on the platform of the train station was far from smiling—honestly neither was he. He was pissed the hell off. You didn’t even recognize him until just now?? Was he really so fucking immemorable?

You backed away from the man who had just saved you from falling to the tracks. You took him in one final time as the two of you sized each other up, “I don’t even know what to start…”

Bakugou’s face contorted in such anger that it could have been mistaken for disgust, “How about you start by giving me some fucking answers!” he screamed, causing your heart to drop and your stomach to lurch. The two organs effectively were trying to switch places.

Oh fuck. He knew?

“T-to what…?” You trailed off, but you had a feeling what he was going to say next. He was gonna chew you out about the damn parasite growing in your uterus, but you had no idea how he could have known about that! He shouldn't know that!

Deku didn’t tell... He didn’t! ...Did he?? Your heart raced and assaulted your rib-cage with an armada of thrums.

“Why did you sneak out that morning, huh!?” as soon as the words flew out of his mouth, you paused—your mind not quite able to comprehend his grievance, “I was just some sex toy for you? That it??” When he finished yelling and glared at you with expectancy burning within his red irises, you found yourself tilting your head a bit in astonishment and confusion.

Your heart had dropped, but you couldn't tell if it was from relief or repugnance. 

That? That was the question he needed answers to?

In the grand scheme of the fuckery on hand, his damaged ego was literally not your problem. You crossed your arms as you stretched your neck toward him, “Because it was supposed to be a club hump and dump! So yeah! We were just sex toys! That was kinda the whole fucking point!” Note the fucking emphasis on ‘supposed to be’! Ugh!

A tinge of underlying hurt quickly flashed across the blond’s stern face. You gave a short, sharp sigh in exasperation as you laid your forehead in one of your palms, “Look, I am not exactly here to cater to your wounded pride. Sorry that you caught feelings for me, but I wasn’t exactly obligated to fix you breakfast that day,” the tired, emotional remarks flew out much faster than you could filter them, but you still felt a twinge of remorse as soon as they hit the air.

The man in front of your face look completely stunned as if you just slapped him across the cheek with your words. It actually seemed pretty unnatural on his expression—like a rare, endangered species-- something not many have seen. Soon enough, however, as the dust of your words fell his expression settled back into a more natural state of fury, “You’re fucking right,” he grunted before turning to exit up the stairs of the subway, “I’m not obligated to listen to this horseshit either.”

Oh fuck. What have you done?

You knew that you had laid it on pretty thick, but the emotions you felt were just so damn overwhelming, “Kacchan… I…!” Why couldn’t you have said something different? Nicer maybe?

Whether you liked it or not, your lives were now tied together and this was not a good first impression—or uh-- second impression technically-- whatever! “I promise you’re gonna want to hear the end of this.” you called to his retreating form.

Bakugou’s face shriveled even further, stretching its extent of maximum disgust. Hearing that name come out of your mouth left his stomach feeling ill, “I promise you, I don’t give a fuck”

You slapped your arms at your side as you finally halted in your attempt to get him to stop walking away. Fuck it. You were about to completely call his bluff because you definitely weren’t about to chase him. You were much too tired and emotional for this shit! You just wanted to get home and sleep these random-ass, foreign emotions away, “I’m pregnant.” you simply exclaimed.

Bakugou froze.

In that moment, it was as if the entire world around him had iced over as he replayed your words in his head over and over again. He couldn't have heard you right, “What?” 

The man felt every fiber of his being stiffen. So much so that he couldn’t even bring himself to turn around and face you. In your silence was his answer loud and clear, “How… how the fuck do I know it’s mine?” he murmured, still unable to turn towards you—he didn’t want you to see the raw emotion that his face probably held in that moment.  

You barely even heard him, but the weight of his words was heavy enough to slam down on your ears and cause a burning reaction from you “What?!”

Your shriek finally prompted him to whip himself around, and you almost wish that he didn’t. The mangled mess of feelings transcribed on his face left his cheeks flushed a furious shade of red as he shouted at you,  “You like one-night stands so much—how do you know it’s mine?” With a horrified expression, you glanced around you for a moment to the other people in the subway, who immediately adverted their gazes.

“Hell, You’ve been hanging around that bastard, Deku. How do I know it’s not his?” You looked back to Bakugou with a choked ‘Wow!’ that could be interpreted as “Are you fucking kidding me right fucking now??” These strangers were getting one hell of a show, too.

You stormed up to him to keep him from shouting your all of your dirty laundry into the air, “Deku and I aren’t—” You stopped yourself. Would any fucking thing you said to this man make a difference? He didn’t know you from fucking Adam-- or from fucking Adam. You groaned in annoyance, “Look! I know that it’s yours because you're the only idiot I have slept with in months! An idiot who doesn’t know how to use a goddamn condom apparently!” you half whispered to him as your spectators began eyeing you again. You flipped them off as Bakugou continued,

“I’m the idiot?! Well if you could ACTUALLY FUCKING REMEMBER that night then you would know that we did use condoms the first three times! They ran out and you told me to keep going,” He screamed—by this point you’d given up hope of containing your melodrama as he continued loudly, “What idiot says that unless they are on birth control or something?!”

You throw your face in your hands with a shriek of a sigh before looking back up to his furious face “Here’s the deal,” you decided to completely ignore his comment, becoming tired of this theatrical display of emotions spewing from him,  “I can’t spontaneously conjure up some proof that this-- this thing is yours but I assure you it fucking is. But hey!! If you don’t want to stick around, I am not the type of person to make you. I can deal with this myself,” his face fell a bit as you swiftly turned yourself around to make your exit, but you didn’t make it far before you felt a heavy hand grab you by the wrist.

“Let’s say it is mine...,” Bakugou offered flatly, “You don’t think I can handle it” his daring tone left your mind whirling. This wast a fucking wrestling match or even one of his villain attacks! He continued, “You’re dumber than you look if you think I’m gonna let my kid grow up without me. Give me your fucking number,” He easily snatched your phone from your front pocket with a slight protest coming from you, but ultimately, you really were tired as hell and just wanted this day to be over with al-fucking-ready. You sighed as he put his number in your phone—your mind briefly wandering why you didn’t put a password on the damn thing.

In a short instant, he shoved your device back to you and promptly turned on a heel. Only acknowledging you once more to tell you to “Stay off of the fucking train tracks,” before he stiffly marched away. Good riddance. 

You couldn’t even blame the spectators anymore. This was a mess. This was a downright, melodramatic, teen drama on CW disaster. This was… this was your life now.

Fuck…

“Oooh... no smiles today, huh?”

About a week later you found yourself walking up the stairs to a modern mansion with stupid windows for walls. A true sign of pretentiousness and obvious lack of shame. This house was a display for all to see... kinda like your argument with that Bakugou last week. 

You shook this thought out of your mind and put your ‘work cap’ back on. You were on your way to get some test shots in for the week with your new hair cut that the agency had forced on you recently.

Instead of throwing her a “What’s there to smile for?” like you wanted to, you threw her a “This better?” and forced a small smile at the girl, Dina, who had traveled along with you to get her test shots done today as well. Usually for these kinds of things, you would be alone as you traveled to the photographer’s house, but it was always nice to have someone come with you so you weren’t complaining—well-- not about her company at least.

There truly was nothing to smile for recently. You were pregnant with a raging, quirkcist asshole’s child, said asshole won’t answer any of your damn texts or calls that aren’t directly related to the prenatal appointment that you two have later today, Deku hasn’t been able to hang out with you as much because of his work, and as trivial as this may seem, you looked in the mirror today to saw a completely different person.

You were quite used to your agency drastically changing your hair, but that, along side the obvious rounding of your face and the speckles of hormone induced facial topography growing on your skin, led you to a slight identity crisis. The girl in the reflection was a sloppy second to who you used to be and you hated it-- you hated sharing this body.

“Trouble in paradise with Deku, Y/N?” her tone had a hint of worry in it as she rung on the doorbell to the modern house. You could only give her a slight shrug as the bell sung out,

“I’m fine. Really.” you lied. 

“Hello, hello!” The photographer’s voice loudly blared out before the door could even fully open to reveal him. He gave you a shocked glance, “What a pretty lady—pretty ladies!” he corrected as he stepped aside and invited you in with the swing of his arm. You rolled your eyes as he turned his back to walk through the house. He looked like the textbook definition of a douchebag. 

Fuck not judging a book by it’s cover. If it walks like a duck. Talks like a duck. Then it’s probably a misogynistic asshole who only got into photography to get away with his sick urge to take photos of unfamiliar women.

“Okay ladies, I just want to preface by saying that you can feel comfortable around me, alright? I think of all my models as a family,” Dina stiffened into a board as he came over and rested his hand on her hip. She forced her lips into a fine line that could resemble a smile as he firmly patted her, “This shouldn’t take too long-- only about five to six hours, ‘kay?”

Your face scrunched up, but you just wanted to get this day over with so you could go to that stupid appointment and wouldn’t have to deal with “Cockugou” for another few weeks. Throughout the next few hours, the photographer actually wasn’t too bad. He was for sure creepy, but you noticed that he wasn’t so bold with you as he had been with Dina earlier. Of course there were little off hand comments like, “You are doing sexy.” instead of “you are doing great.” And he would refer to both you and Dina as “baby” is a husky, drawn out tone—like he was moaning, but besides that he was actually being pretty calm.

Until he wasn’t.

“Okay! Now take your tops and bra off,” both you and Dina paused as the camera flashed once more. As the two of you threw each other a wary glance the photographer spoke up again, “Trust me, I have a vision. You’re gonna love it!”

“I- I just don’t feel comfortable with that,” Dinah spoke up feebly. She looked to you for support, so you nodded before she returned her gaze to him, “Do you think… maybe we could do something else?”

The photographer sighed and threw his nose into pinched fingers as if you all had offended him, “Look honey, you’re not that photogenic. I am having to bust my ass off not to capture that cellulite on the back of your thighs, so when I tell you to do something, it’s for a reason.”

You glanced over to Dina with a horrified expression. You noticed that her hands were clenched at her sides and shook ever so slightly after she subconsciously rubbed the back of her thighs-- you also noticed a prominent thigh gap in between the two tiny appendages. You shot your stern glare back over to the photographer.

He sighed again—this time even harder than before, “Take five!” he frustratedly pulled out a box of cigarettes and stormed over to his patio outside—the glass door slamming shut behind him.

You walked over to Dinah and hesitantly found your hands drifting toward her. You were never really good at cheering people up. Hell, you had to rely on alcohol to cheer you up for the vast majority of you adult (and a little bit of your pre-adult) life. Still, you took her shaking hands in your own. “Hey. Don’t listen to that asshole. If you’re not comfortable...”

“I have done nude shots before, but this just feels… wrong. Doesn’t it?” she refused to look you in the eyes as hers glazed over in a thick sheet of shame. She was right. Nude shots were nothing new at all. In fact, some of your best shots had been done in the nude—they had the potential to be true art, but this? This was wrong.

She shook her head,“But I just… I don’t want to be unprofessional.”

“We can walk out right now. I’ll call Ainu and tell her what’s up I am sure she’ll understand,” as soon as you began walking to gather up some of your belongings, her voice spoke up once more—this time much colder than before,

“Maybe for you. Y/N, you could get away with murder at our agency-- you know that, right? You’re the one who bought Ainu her ticket to the top-- her golden child,” she sneered. You threw your eyes toward her own—not quite comprehending if this was the same person still talking to you.

It was, but this Dina had tears growing in her eyes, “Not everyone can half-ass everything and not care…” her voice shook. The two of you just stared at each other as wild emotions filled your expressions and overflowed into the room to drown you.

The patio door clicking open snapped you out of your trance and Dina furiously began wiping her eyes clean as the photographer reemerged, “Alright pretty ladies! Who’s ready to get back into things?”

You sighed.

With a quick roll of your eyes you angrily threw your top off—not even giving the girl with you a second glance as she did the same and the two of you settled yourself into position. The atmosphere was certainly much heavier than it had been before, but the photographer obviously couldn’t read the room,

“Y/N might I say, that your tits looks wonderful! Have you gotten a job recently? I mean- they look huge!”

Okay. 

That. Was. It. You couldn’t fucking hold it back anymore, “Talk about my tits again and I’ll stab you in the neck with your own goddamn tripod,” you kept posing as if you totally hadn’t just threatened someone’s life, but the photographer fell away from his camera, shock painted on his expression. Slacking on the job. Huh, who’s the unprofessional one now?

“…S-sweetheart I—”

“Don’t you fucking ‘sweetheart’ me!” you screamed, storming up to point a finger in his face. This surge of random emotion overwhelmed you. You had never felt this before—like you were gonna explode if you didn’t unleash it. And unleash it, you did, “The fuck is your problem?! You get some kick outta being a perverted asshole, asshole?!”

Dinah tried to come pull you back by the shoulders, “Y/N, maybe you should just calm dow—”

“No! Fuck this bastard!!” you smack her hands away as the photographer gets up and crossed his arms,

“This is so unprofessional. You women always jump to conclusions. Why cant you ever just take the compliment?”

“WHY CAN’T YOU JUST TAKE MY FOOT UP YOUR--”

And that’s how you ended up getting sent home two hours early. You had attempted to call Deku to rant about the harsh encounter, but he was at work. You supposed that saving lives a a little bit more important than “The Dramatic Tale of a Quirkless Model” or whatever fucking CW show your life had become. Your mind briefly fleeted to calling Bakugou, but he certainly wouldn’t answer anyway. No. Fuck that.

So you decided to text Deku and cry into your pillow instead,

You:

[2:49pm]

I mean he was just such a fucking dick!

I should have actually stuck my foot up his ass but he for sure would have liked it🙄

Seriously. I don’t mind nude photos

But there is a difference between art/photography and porn

Deku:

Right!!

Well I’m glad you stood up for yourself!

You:

No! Don’t tell me tht!😫

Deku:

I am upset tha you stood up for yourself…?

You:

UGHHH

I just wish tht I had just walked out

But the other girl wouldn’t leave and I couldn’t leaver her their

There*

God

Ainu is gonna 💀me for this

Deku:

How can I help you?

I’ll find what I can on the photographer?

You:

Talk Kacchan into not going to our clinical visit.👉👈

You knew that Deku really wanted to go, and honestly you would really prefer if he did. Regardless, Deku stood up for his childhood bully like the saint he was,

Deku:

Y/N! He’s the father. he deserves to go, don’t you think?

Also!

Don’t forget Baby Notes vol 1! I wrote some questions for you to ask!

You stifled a small laugh as you eyed that stupid goddamn notebook he left on your nightstand one of the few days he stopped by your home.

You:

Grr

I can’t handle Cockugou’s moodiness right now

And I-- Oop!

Speak of the devil. He’s here.

Talk later k?💕kith!

You snatched the notebook from your nightstand and marched to your front entrance. The knocking at your door was downright disrespectful—constantly switching between pounding knocks on your door and vigorous successions of the doorbell ringing.

“Fucking. Calm. Down!” you screamed out the door before answering, revealing Bakugou’s stern gaze,

“What the hell took you so long?” he huffed, causing your face to scrunch up into an expression that mirrored his own. 

“I had to walk to the damn door, you know! I’m quirkless? No teleportation quirk here!” He only clicked his tongue at your response. You noticed the way his eyes drifted down to the notebook in your hands before they narrowed into even tighter slits.

“Let’s just fucking go, already,” he took your wrist and led you out of the house before shutting your door. You could really just knock him the hell out. Okay, maybe you couldn't, but your weak ass might just be able to get one good hit in! He deserved it, not replying to any of your attempts to reach out to him past talking about the appointment,

“Why didn’t you answer my texts all week?”

“I was busy.” he simply said, not even bothering to look you in the eye. This was the last time he spoke up for a long while. In fact, you didn't even hear his voice again until later when the two of you sat in the small, shoebox of a room in the clinic with the prenatal physician,

“This is your first appointment, right?” the doctor, was extremely old looking and your mind phased into a grim question of ‘how the hell can someone so close to death know jack about birth?’

You tried your best to push these dark thoughts out of your head as you gave him a slight answer, “Yeah…” you laid back on the crinkly paper covered recliner and lift your shirt a bit for the examination. You looked down at the small, hardly noticeable bump in your lower abdomen and internally cringed. 

“This is the father?” you knew that it didn't really matter, and that he was probably just trying to make you comfortable and spark up some small talk, but you rally didn't wanna hear it out loud. 

You couldn't bring yourself to answer, but Bakugou loudly spoke up, filling the absence of your voice, “Why the hell else would I be here, old man?” he scoffed and twisted his face away from everyone. 

You raised an eyebrow at his rudeness, but from the vast stories that Deku had told you about him, you shouldn't have been surprised. But still, it was like seeing a mythical creature in real life-- a grumpy troll under a bridge, if you will. 

The doctor gave a loud laugh at Bakugou’s remark, causing both you and him to snap your surprised gazed to the elderly man, “You’d be surprised at the shit I have seen, son. Someone brought their neighbor for the entire 39 weeks once-- the husband came in only once or twice, I think.”

You couldn't help but to laugh at this. Your doctor’s voice had a much more youthful demeanor than he had originally led on, “Oh, they were definitely fucking behind the husbands back,” you smirked.

“So Mama Bakugou,” 

And just like that your smile was completely wiped off of your face, “This is your first child right?” the doctor asked. You felt Bakugou throw you a fleeting expectant look. You assumed that it was probably because he hadn't even thought to ask you this question. The two of you really didn't know each other. Matter of a fact, this doctor, with your list of medical history in his hand, probably knew a lot more than the father of this ‘it’ inside of you. 

“L/N actually,” you corrected, “and yes, it is.” with that, Bakugou’s glare drifted back off into unconcerned and uncaring territory as he found a sudden interest in the glass container of gloves on the counter. 

“Well you look about 10 weeks along. They’ll be about the size of a strawberry right now-- almost done with your first trimester.” he trailed off as he began coating your stomach with some sticky jelly substance. 

“What??” you could have sworn that you had only met Bakugou about two months ago right? So does that mean...

“The date of conception would have actually been a little closer to about 7 or 8 weeks ago. We just count by the first day of your last period. No need to get worried about the neighbor, I don’t think, Papa Bakugou,” he winked to the blond, who only gave a scoff in return. You let out a slight sigh of relief. 

The recipe for the rest of this appointment as the doctor searched your organs for your uterus in the ultrasound included him making small talk and Bakugou ignoring it with you giving slight answers here and there,

However, finally, something really caught both of your’s attention, “I think that you guys should take time today to find your primary care physician,”

“Why not you, idiot?” Bakugou spoke up and it shocked you. You were surprised he cared about this out of everything. 

“I am thinking that I should send you to someone with a specialty in a multiple pregnancy birth.”

Your heart skipped a beat as you and Bakugou shared a brief, terrified glance at one another, “What...?” Bakugou spat.

“You see these two circles? It looks like you’ve got two buns in the oven! Congrats on the twins!,” 

T...wins...?

The world bean fading into a blur for you as he continued, “Now You are a little past getting the neural tube check, but we can get you started in on some genetic testing and counseling’s. Every thing is looking alright, but we just want to…”

The world around you moved in a blurry, choppy chain of images as your mind tried its best to comprehend the knowledge it had been given. So... not only were you carrying one parasite... but two?

You couldn't bring yourself to listen the rest of the appointment, and you had a feeling that Bakugou wasn't picking up on much else after the shocking news either. 

If you thought that commute to the hospital was quiet, the walk back to your apartment was even more so.

Taglist:  @steggy4ever​ @library-trash​ @watevermelon​ @glimmadora-ble​ @persephones24​ @dragonempress123​ @your-pri-ncess @broken-from-fandoms​ @hot-pocket01​ @tsukineho @bakugousbabydoll​ @bubbzibubbles @ikebukuro-ghoul​ @thehoneycookiecrumbs​ @katsukis-sad-angel​ @dulcetailurophile​ @yukiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii @kanasakura @lonekitsune @pastel-prynce​ @mynameispurple​ @cutest-celestial-princess​ @minfani​ @aurorahoneybuns​ @galacticrosee @orokayagi​ @centerhabit​ @animefan7420 @katsukisposts   @bakugou-is-my-daddy​

[lordrethandus]

Daily Writing Challenge 2021 Day 6

Festival ( @daily-writing-challenge​, @syrahnbloodfeather​ )

World: Warcraft

Diing! Doong! Diing! Doong!

The cathedral bells have startled Syrahn every hour since midday. This was the seventh time since she was ripped away from her peaceful slumber, and it would be another three before she tried to fall asleep again. The little girl cupped her hands over her ears and prayed the ringing in her head would leave as quickly as it came, but she was never so fortunate. Her eldest brother Kiash once told her the cathedral was going to be torn down soon on Lord Kael’kro’s request, and no one was more eager for that than Syrahn.

She sat at the end of the great hall, hugged tightly by an ebon gown and a gold crimson corset with a gold choker dangling around her neck; as per customs each person of any house is encouraged to wear their family’s colors, and the little girl was eager to match with her brothers and sisters. She watched elves waltz around the dance floor in tune with the band in the distance, but she was hardly interested. They were either old men with thin grey hair or too bland to look at for too long. But in the corner of her eye, one man stood out above all the rest.

Sir Renart Andu was easily the fairest elf Syrahn had ever seen. His armor looked like solid gold and likened to a fierce dragonhawk coiled around him, starting from his left thigh with the dragonhawk’s head resting silently on his right shoulder. His crown of silver hair glimmered in the light, setting the little girl’s heart a flutter. He was the knight she envisioned when Viridias would read her stories. She clutched her chest the moment he stopped to look in her direction with a slight smile she wouldn’t soon forget, and she questioned if the Gods were favoring her this enchanting night. She quickly ran her tiny hands through her thick auburn hair to let it cascade down her left shoulder just like her sister Miriam did, hoping it would be enough to gain his undivided attention. Sir Renart approached with a commanding presence, and Syrahn swore she would faint if he called her name.

“You must be Lady Lirindas. Word around the hall is you aren’t particularly enjoying yourself tonight.” He spoke with a voice as smooth as silk. Syrahn’s heart dropped into her stomach while she shot her wild glare back and forth between this dreamy knight and her undeserving teen sister. Lirindas was wearing a similar gown, corset, and choker, but she looked so uncomfortable in all of it; she never had a taste for the finer things in life, and was therefore forced into this getup by their older sisters. Lirindas blinked while she gazed fearfully up at the towering man, hesitant to speak.

“W-well I…” She choked on her words, unsure how to respond. Sir Renart flashed his perfect teeth and extended his hand, sparking a flame in Syrahn’s stomach.

“May I trouble you with a dance?” He was so polite, and Lirindas was so awkward; she had the audacity to ignore his gesture and turn to look up at Viridias.

“Go ahead, Liri.” She commanded, nodding to her. “It's rude to deny him his request.”

Syrahn couldn't take it anymore. “What about me?!” The little girl squeaked, crossing her arms with her bottom lip sticking out at them. “I wanna dance with Mister Renart more than she does!”

“I'll dance with you after your sister, okay?” Renart winked while Lirindas sheepishly took his hand. Syrahn was not satisfied with that answer, but his smile prevented any more words from slipping from her tongue. She watched in furious envy at the Knight taking Lirindas into the crowd. He held her right hand firmly yet gently, and placed his left hand on her waist; out of the corner of Syrahn’s eyes she saw her quiet brother Vraln lurking in the darkness on the upper balcony of the great hall, watching Lirindas and this touchy stranger like a protective bear watching his cubs play in the forest. He was a man of few words, but the hardened scowl plastered on his face told Syrahn all she needed to know. Lirindas stumbled during their waltz often, and although she was too far away to hear, it was clear she was apologizing while she avoided eye contact.

“Patience, sweetie.” Viridias brushed Syrahn’s hair away and gave her a wet smooch on her forehead. “You'll get your turn soon enough.”

“But it's not fair!” She protested. “Lirindas doesn't even like dancing! Look she's stepping all over his feet!”

“It would be too difficult to dance with you. You would barely be able to stand higher than his waist.” Viridias didn't like the idea of an older man dancing with Syrahn, especially after seeing the little girl's failed attempt to seduce him. “Perhaps it would be better to dance with someone closer to your age? His brother seems cute enough, don't you think?”

“No.” Syrahn pouted, glowering across the hall to see Sir Renart’s younger brother standing with his back pressed against the wall. Nothing could convince her that Rethandus Andu was worth dancing with; he was so small and nervous beside his father, threatening to shrink away and vanish into thin air if a woman so much as looked in his direction. In her frustration Syrahn vowed to never dance with him until he became a shining knight like his coveted brother. “Andy Andu is the stupidest name I've ever heard.”

Viridias glanced down at her with disappointment but said nothing, silently wishing she would take interest in boys closer to her own age. A guard stepped forward from behind and whispered something in her ear, stirring her to rise from her seat. “I must be off, Syrie. Stay on your best behavior.”

“Buh-? Where are you going?” The girl asked, tugging at her sister's gown.

“Family business that needs my attention.” Viridias smiled, gently squeezing her hand; it was the same vague answer she would always get when her older siblings didn't want her involved, and whenever she heard those words it only made the little girl angry. She was a Bloodfeather just as much as they were, but they sheltered her from family affairs like she didn't belong. Viridias turned to the guard and gave him a modest curtsey. “See that our youngest angel doesn't get into any trouble for me.”

“Yes, Lady Bloodfeather.” The guard glanced down at Syrahn through his plated greathelm, compelling her to stick her tongue out defiantly. She had no interest in sitting here to wait and see if Sir Renart would make true to his word; he had broken her sacred trust already. She needed to escape and see what she was missing, but in order to do that she needed this guard out of her hair.

“Excuse me, Mister Guardsman.” She cleared her throat and mimicked her sister's elegance as best she could. “Could I please have some wine?”

“Absolutely not. Your brothers would put my head on a spike if I have you alcohol.” He grumbled, resting his gauntlets on his belt.

“Then perhaps some juice or water?” Syrahn prodded, ignoring his irritated groan.

“Your legs broken? Why can't you get it yourself?” The little girl lifted her gown just high enough to flash her shiny new boots.

“Viri tied my boots too tight and now my feet ache.” She lied. “It hurts to stand on them right now.”

The guard gave her an indifferent huff and waved his hand dismissively. “Didn't seem to be a problem when you wanted to dance with Prince Charming over there.”

Syrahn puffed her cheeks out while she bit her tongue, fearing she would say something that would ruin her chance of escape. “Mister Guardsman…” She started through clenched teeth. “Please… my throat is itchy and I am very thirsty…”

“Fine.” He said, sending a rush of relief through her; but that sensation was short lived, replaced with startled confusion the moment a silk ribbon was draped over her head and tightened around her waist and arms.

“W-what are you doing?” Syrahn squeaked for the second time tonight, glaring angrily up at this bold man.

“Making sure you stay put while I fetch your Majesty something to drink.” She could hear the smile in his voice, and the illusion of calm elegance she worked so hard to maintain immediately vanished the moment he tied her to her chair. She kicked and flailed wildly in a desperate attempt to free herself, but she lacked the strength to tear through the silk ribbon, and the weight to topple her own chair. The guard’s laughter rang in her ears while he vanished into the crowd toward a waitress. She was able to regain her composure and calm down once he was out of sight, convinced her act was enough for him not to suspect her plan. Slowly but surely she wiggled the ribbon up to her chest, and without a moment to spare she began furiously nibbling.

Syrahn’s tiny elven teeth were still sharp enough to cut through the silk with relative ease. With a surge of her savage strength she ripped through the remaining threads keeping her bound to the chair, jumped to her feet and looked around for the closest exit. “Hey! HEYYYY!” The guard shouted, clutching a bottle of milk in his hands. “Where do you think you're going?!”

Syrahn’s mind raced while she whipped around and clutched her gown tightly. She wasted no time using her size to her advantage, allowing her to slip into the crowd and disappear under the tide of colorful dresses and nameless faces. He followed in pursuit but it was no use; in his encumbering armor he couldn't keep pace, and her auburn crown of hair dipped between two gowns and vanished like a leaf in the wind.

[masterjedilenawrites]

The Helmeted Hunter: Chapter 8

Boba Fett x Reader

Chapter Warnings: A “sudden sound” at the end

AO3 Link (In case you like it better over there, it’s okay, no judgement)

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Chapter 8: You’ll See

You'd thought by Boba's tone the planet he was taking you to would be a lot more... well, just more than this. If anything, it was more dirty and more barren and more boring than any you'd seen so far, and that included the several other desert planets now on your have-seen list.

"Where are we?" you called back up the ramp to where Boba was making final preparations before disembarking.

"Jakku."

He walked up alongside you, pausing with a hand hovering over the opposite wrist, where he usually shot out a fiber-cord to tie you up.

"I'm not going anywhere," you assured him with a smirk. "Promise."

He still seemed hesitant, but you started walking anyway. You weren't sure where to go, or why you were even on this planet, but you needed to stretch your legs and do something. You felt restless. There were so many questions without answers and potentially a whole galaxy to go through to find them. You wanted to get started right away. You wanted to come across something to help start making sense of things.

Boba fell into step beside you. There looked to be an outpost just ahead, though it wasn't the bustling station common in other places. Scraggly looking humans and other creatures that seemed rough-around-the-edges milled about here and there. They all eyed you and your companion as you made your way through them. Eventually Boba took the lead and guided you around a watering hole and back into an expanse of rolling dunes and sand.

"Where are we going?"

"You'll see."

"Well what are we even doing here?"

"You'll see."

You huffed in frustration but continued to follow the helmeted man before you. You were finding it annoying how he flip-flopped between being silent and chatty. It was almost like he just remembered he was supposed to be an intimidating bounty hunter and decided to ignore the fact he could be relaxed and friendly with you.

If traipsing through the forest terrain of Takodana had been miserable, the sand dunes you now found yourself navigating was surely hell. Once the piddly outpost had disappeared in the distance behind you, and you realized it would probably be awhile before you reached whatever destination ahead, your focus became surviving the unpredictable nature of the dunes. Stray breezes would come at random, disturbing the sand around you, causing your eyes to water and your throat to feel a perpetual tickle.

At one point you ended up tumbling down a hill and got stuck, much to your embarrassment. Boba had to slide down and help you up with a shake of his helmeted head. Sand grated uncomfortably in your clothes for the rest of the journey.

Eventually, and thankfully, said journey ended. The dunes leveled out into more of a dirt plateau, with a little tent rising up in the middle of it. Boba led you straight for it, and the man that was standing watch just outside it.

The man's skin reminded you of a mummy, shriveled and wrinkled but with a hardened look about it. He wore goggles over his eyes and protective armor on his shoulders. His fingers were decorated with various gold rings. He was stoic as the two of you approached.

"I figured you'd be the one to come for me," he said.

Boba stopped just before him, hands on his hips. You lingered behind, unsure what to make of this meeting yet.

"I don't know what you mean," Boba replied. "I'm here to see an old friend."

There was a moment of silence and then the other man burst out laughing. He clapped a hand on Boba's shoulder and pulled him in for a hug.

"Oh Fett, you haven't changed a bit!" he cackled. "Trying to pull one over on me. I'll be damned."

Boba awkwardly wiggled out of the embrace, as stiff as you'd ever seen him. You imagined he didn't experience a lot of friendly physical contact in his line of work.

"Come, come, inside before the winds pick up."

The man motioned for both of you to follow him into the tent. It really, truly was little. Once the three of you were inside, there wasn't room for much else. A cot lay rolled out in one corner, a small fire pit lay dormant in another, and the rest of the available space was littered with tarnished cups, jewels, and other items that seemed like they had once been valuable but were now just junk. You stepped among them gingerly, not sure where to position yourself in the cramped chaos.

"Do you live here?" you found yourself compelled to ask.

"Don't mind her," Boba commented as he took a seat on the cot. "She's a bit high maintenance."

Your eyebrows shot up, incredulous. What had you done that was considered "high maintenance?" You were about to ask when the other man scolded him for you.

"No, no. She is a woman of good taste."

You nodded. "Yes, thank you."

He smiled at you and extended a hand. "Hondo Ohnaka. And don't worry, my dear, this is only a temporary arrangement."

You took his offered hand and introduced yourself in return. He gave you a knowing look once he heard your name.

"So the rumors of the Empire's bounty are true." He turned to face Boba. "I would've thought if you were the one to find her, you'd have no need to come after an old pirate like me."

"As I said, I'm only here to see a friend."

Hondo seemed to be considering something, though you weren't sure what. All you knew was that a guy like Boba Fett didn't have friends, not in the true sense of the word, so whatever connection he had with this man was complicated.

"What do you mean by pirate?" you asked, hoping to gain some insight into who this man was and why you were visiting him.

"I used to lead many smugglers and thieves around the galaxy, back before the war," he explained with a wistful look in his eyes. "I'm all that's left now. I do what I can to keep the old ways alive. But it's never really the same."

His voice held a certain kind of sadness you'd heard before, by your grandparents and other elderly folk, people who'd come to realize the best part of their lives was already behind them. It broke your heart to hear such loss of hope.

"The past has a way of coming back around," Boba spoke up. "A man of your experience and expertise will always be in demand. I could use some of that myself."

Hondo stroked his chin again in contemplation. He then turned back around to face you.

"Well for starters, you can treat your bounty here with a little more respect. Poor girl doesn't even have a scarf to protect her pretty face on this mess of a planet."

He started rummaging around his piles of junk, eventually pulling up a helmet that looked a lot like the ones the Imperial soldiers had been wearing.

"For you, my dear. Go on and try it outside, make sure all the filters still work properly."

You weren't sure you knew how to do such a check, but you got the feeling Hondo was subtly asking you to give him and Boba some privacy. So you took the helmet and made your way back outside the tent, but not before stopping just outside the door to catch some of their conversation.

She's certainly the prettiest bounty you've collected, if not the most valuable. I hope you've at least acknowledged that.

What difference does that make?

What's wrong with appreciating beauty when you find it? Makes the job easier, no? Unless you find it distracting?

What's distracting is you talking about anything other than what I'm here for.

All I'm saying is you can't be all-business all the time. A bounty hunter like you, you've got to take what little joy you can get.

Which is what I'm here for. The joy of finishing a job and getting my reward.

You forced yourself to turn away. This man would certainly have information for Boba about your situation. And if he'd come up with an excuse to get you to leave for the moment, he must be shy about sharing it with anyone other than his purported friend. So you respected their privacy and settled your focus on the stormtrooper helmet now in your possession.

You played around with it for a while, first enjoying the basic safety from the elements it provided simply by putting it on, and then exploring the more specialized features. You were able to change the filtration power of the air supply, pull up environmental readings and terrain maps in your eyesight, and tap into nearby comms frequencies. You would've been content with continuing your experiments for a while longer, if it weren't for the sudden sound of a blaster firing from within Hondo's tent.

You sprinted the short distance over and threw the door open. For a split second, right before you registered what had happened inside, you considered the fact it probably wasn't a good idea to rush into a potentially dangerous situation with no weapon like this. But it was your fear that something had happened to Boba, the one somewhat-trustworthy person you could more-or-less rely on, that spurned you forward without thinking.

But you should've known it would never be Boba who would end up stunned and unconscious on the ground.

[kamilah-is-queen]

Great ! but i have to warn you it’s gonna be a LONG one as i have written all the ideas but i can’t write the scenario without it being VERY cheesy. plus I’d appreciate it if you didn’t include smut in my request which i’ll post after this one but maybe just some fluff and “indicators” of following smut but not actually writing any 😂 (ps. you don’t have to reply to this ask neither the following ask in which i’ll put the whole fic idea)

I was informed that @rocketscientist07 had written a similar piece on AO3, so just to clarify I don’t mean to copy their work and ideas. Credit for this idea goes to the anon that requested this. The beginning of the story is changed slightly from the end scene from Bloodbound, due to an easier plot style.

Link to The Darker Side

Tagging: @wisebananapatrol, @kamilahtopme, @vonda-b-real, @iamsimpforpoppy, @millasayeed, @clan-sayeed-fic, @queenkamilah



Rheya outstretched a blood soaked hand towards the Bloodkeeper, an evil smirk rising to her face. “Come with me, Amy. Learn what true power feels like..” A glow of orange light blossoming out of her hand as she guided it towards the Bloodkeeper. “..These puny creatures living in my shadow can’t give you the power, the strength, the potential to rule the world and have you as it’s Queen Amy.”

The young vampire in an attempt to satisfy her curiosity, reached her fingers towards the bright glow from Rheya’s hand. A bolt of energy burst through her body, the pain replaced by strength, her insecurities replaced with a new found confidence.

She lifted off the stage, the same beam of light emitting from her eyes as Rheya’s voice echoed inside the Bloodkeeper’s head. “These mortals don’t deserve to live Amy,” she said, gesturing to the dumbfounded group of humans in their seats, “kill every last one of them.” The First commanded.

Amy closed her eyes as the power grew, Jax, Lily and Adrian watched in horror before Kamilah sprang to the place beneath Amy. “Amy, wait!” The youngest vampire bowed her head to meet Kamilah’s eyes, her voice deeper than a crack of thunder. “It’s too late, Kamilah.

The Egyptian didn’t attempt to stop the tears that slid from her eyes, her heart breaking into a thousand pieces all over again. “No, Amy no, it isn’t too late. You can fight this, I know you can, my love.” Her voice cracked, fear and anxiousness rising in her voice.

“You're stronger than anyone I’ve ever known, even stronger than I thought...than I thought you could’ve been Amy. We’ve been through so much, all of us,  don’t give up now..”

“We defeated Gauis together, traveled to Japan and worked with the Five. Crashed down on that island where Demetrieus’s tree was living. If you weren’t strong or powerful, none of us would be here today Amy. None of us.”

Amy watched intently, before turning her head away. “I’m not who you think I am, not anymore.” She raised her hands toward the sky and closed her fists, the mortal crowd screaming in agony before one by one, the blood pooled out of their bodies and towards Amy.

The tears fell furiously as Kamilah sunk to her knees, sobbing into her hands. “My my, what a pity.” Rheya cackled into the night sky, extending her hand to Amy once more. With a final look towards her friends, towards everything she ever knew, she met Kamilah’s gaze.

Amy saw fear. She saw the memories of them flash through Kamilah’s eyes. Memories of them sharing the warmest of cuddles and the softest of kisses. Memories of the two laughing into the night sky, and some of when the night was more passionate like in the Cabin. The moment when Kamilah confessed her love as Amy slipped away from the world, all of them meaning nothing in that split second.

Amy relived the moments where she broke down Kamilah’s steel walls, especially the walls of her heart. She had to make a decision. Would she stay with Kamilah and enjoy the safety and security of the Egyptian? Or, would she choose Rheya and her promise of power and control over the world. To rule as a true queen, with no boundaries to constrict here.

The voice in Amy’s head screamed at her to choose Kamilah, but if she did, one of her friends wouldn’t make it. She knew that one of them wouldn’t, and she couldn’t risk it. After everything she’d been through, they were family. And it was wrong to turn your back on family, but it was for the greater good. Only, the gang didn’t see it as that.

“I’m sorry..” Amy’s voice barely a whisper, before she took Rheya’s hand and they disappeared into the night sky.

“No! No, no, no, no!” Kamilah slammed her fist into the stage of the opera house, her vision blurred with the tears streaming down her cheeks. She punched the stage again, and again, and again until her hands were completely soaked in blood and the skin on her knuckles ripped as Adrian attempted to calm her.

He wrapped his arms around her, a strong grip holding Kamilah in place as she shrieked with the heartache. Kamilah eventually tired out, the events of the past few weeks catching up to her. The plane crash with Gauis, the trip to Japan, all the moments with Amy, they all came crashing and burning in her heart.

“It’s okay Kamilah, she’s made her decision. It’s okay, we’ll find a way to get her back.” He slowly rocked the older vampire in his arms, his heartbeat a comforting rhythm as Kamilah relaxed.

“What if she doesn’t..want to come back Adrian?” Kamilah’s voice thick with grief, feeling a sense of instability for the first time in her life. Adrian took a deep breath, steeling himself, “I promise, she will. She can’t leave you, leave us like this without reason sister. Love will bring her back to you”

“She betrayed us.” With enough agony for the day, Kamilah passed out into Adrain’s arms. Her heart weighing in her chest like an anvil, an anvil broken into thousands of heavy little pieces.

5 years later…

The roaring noise of the thunder and lightning filled the night sky as Amy walked through the streets of Japan. She gripped the fabric of her clothes, the material drenched in the rain but that didn’t stop her from continuing forward.

The lasting words of her previous conversation rang through Amy’s head…

“Demetrius, if we wish to obtain the type of power we seek, then we mustn’t stand idle. What are we waiting for? One move and the superpowers of the world will be beneath us, begging for mercy.”

Rheya clenched her fist and raised it to the sky, her eyes glimmering with hope yet dark with longing. The four were placed at the dinner table, Rheya at the head and Demetrius, Lola, Gauis and Amy positioned nearby.

When Amy had agreed to join Rheya in her hungry quest for power, she had also unknowingly agreed to be an anchor to the other side. With a lack of support, Rheya brought both Lola and Demetrius back to life. Not only for emotional support, but for advice in their conquest.

Unfortunately, this only worsened Amy’s condition. As if being away from anyone she’s ever known was difficult enough, the burden of being the link between the living and the dead was also placed upon her shoulders.

As Amy listened on to the conversation, rage filled in her chest. All the innocent lives of mortals to be lost, at the cost of one of her friends was unbearable to think about. The anger consumed her, filling her body and she didn’t attempt to cease it.

“While you may be right, Rheya...we’re still lacking the resources to pull something like this off. I think we should wait, hold off as long as possible and strike when least expected.” Amy stood from the table, excusing herself as she prayed her tactics had worked.

“Amy wait…” Gauis stood and immediately rushed after her. “I know something’s off, you’ve never acted like this before.” He gently cupped Amy’s face with a hand, Amy leaning into the touch before pulling away slowly. “I’ve just got a lot on my mind, that’s all.” She replied with a small smile.

Gauis had been there through it all. From the very first night she spent with the First and her crew up until that point. In some ways, they had grown close. When Amy needed security and a sense of tranquility, Gauis was the first to be at her side. Through all his hardened and almost non existent emotions, he felt sorry for the girl. She was a mere child, thrown into a whirlpool of danger and excitement and he felt it was his place to keep her safe.

They’d spent many nights together, Gauis not knowing whether Amy truly felt for him the way he did for her, or if it was an escape to a land of peace and calm.

With a small sigh, Gauis pulled his hand back. “Perhaps a stroll will clear your mind. Allow me to join you, my Queen?”

“I think it’ll be best if I took this one alone.” Amy encouragingly squeezing his hand before strolling out through the castle’s gates.

Now, as she walked aimlessly through the brightly lit streets, there was only one person on her mind...Kamilah. She’d overheard conversations about the gang relocating to Japan, to strengthen their base and form a stronger alliance with the Five. Of course that was Rheya’s first plan, to wipe them out but with quick thinking, Amy was able to hold her off.

But it wouldn’t last for long, and that’s why Amy was going to take Rheya, Demetrius and Lola out. But only with the help of her family.

Amy strode in through the doors of the famous club, the club where Amy had first seen Aiko. As she looked around, the familiar faces brought a warm sensation to heart. They were safe, her family was alive.

Small murmurs pulled Amy out of her thoughts, her gaze falling to each and every person in the room. Adrian was seated on a bar stool beside Lily, the pair speaking in hushed whispers as they gazed at Amy. Jax was sipping a glass of whiskey, Akeyo, Henry, Kano and The Evolved beside him.

Then, there was Kamilah. Seated comfortably in one of the cream sofas, Aiko nestled on her lap with a glass of wine in hand.

Amy felt a lump rise in her throat, her eyes threatening to give way to tears as she looked on. Kamilah hadn’t noticed Amy’s presence for she was too indulged in covering Aiko in gentle kisses. Kisses that only Amy was allowed to have, touches that Kamilah swore would only be placed upon Amy, now onto a new partner.

“Hello love, did you miss me?” Amy said with a smug smirk across her face, her gaze directed at Kamilah. The vampires looked up from their previous conversation, Kamilah’s eyes widening in disbelief. “I know I’m the last person you want to be speaking to, but I don’t care. I need your help and you guys are family, I know you wouldn’t give up on me.” She said, her head bowed slightly.

When Amy lifted her head, Kamilah was standing before her. The Egyptian’s features hadn’t differed from their usual breathtaking appearance. Her eyes never wavering from Amy’s as the two fell into a trance.

“It’s you...it’s really you Amy.” Kamilah hesitantly took a step forward before her arm was snatched back by Aiko.

“Why would we help you, traitor?” Aiko practically spitting out the words with a scowl across her face. Amy took in the remarks before replying, “I don’t think a useless mutt like you could have the brain capacity to help anyways.” She said while checking her fingernails.

Kamilah held Aiko back as the vampire lunged towards Amy, “You little bitch I swear I’ll get you one day!”

“Enough Aiko!” Kamilah’s eyes flashed a threatening maroon colour, forcing Aiko to back down and regain her composure.

“Fine, but this rotten piece of shit…” Aiko whispered harshly with her finger pointed at Amy’s face, “should’ve never shown her face here.”

As the Five assisted in dragging Aiko away, Kamilah refocused her attention back on Amy. “Let’s talk somewhere more private, shall we?” Lily led the four towards the back room, everyone standing at a distance from each other as an awkward silence filled the room.

Adrian was the first to speak as he set his glass down on the table…”Amy, you know we’d never turn our back on you but you have to understand, what you did 5 years ago isn’t something to be taken lightly.” His face was oddly calm and nonchalant, something that didn’t happen often with the CEO.

“You...you betrayed us…” Lily bowed her head as her voice cracked. Tears filled the vampire’s eyes as they slid down her cheeks.

“No, that’s what I’m trying to say. All this time, I’ve been with Rheya for the gang’s protection. It seems crazy, and twisted but..it’s not I swear.” Amy’s eyes pleaded innocently as she looked around the room.

“Everything you’ve ever known, all the memories you had and every single moment of tranquility, safety and warmth was left behind the second you agreed to join her Amy.” Kamilah spoke through gritted teeth. She swirled the wine in her glass, staring at the deep red liquid sloshing from side to side.

“Kamilah…” Amy felt the coldness in her heart melt away the moment she saw the pained expression on her lovers face. Kamilah’s deep, brown eyes glossed over as their memories washed over her, clear signs of pain reaking from the older CEO.

With a flick of her gaze, Kamilah stood and turned her attention to Amy. “If you’ll excuse us.” Jax, Adrian and Lily bowed their heads respectfully, leaving the two alone in silence.

“You’re not the same Amy I knew, not the Amy I fell in love with those years ago.” Kamilah took Amy’s hands into her own, holding them gently. “But, I can’t see you in this state. Not when Rheya’s controlling you like this, no. I’ll do everything in my power to help you Amy, whether you want me to or not.”

Kamilah searched Amy’s eyes looking for something, anything. Amy simply stood frozen like a statue, her gaze flicking between her lover’s deep brown orbs. With a sigh, the CEO withdrew her hands and tucked them away in her pockets. “The truth is...I still love you. All this time, I’ve still loved you. And perhaps you don’t feel the same Amy but, I’m willing to wait for you. Be it years, or centuries...I’ll always be there to support you.”

And with that, Kamilah left without another word leaving Amy to her thoughts.

“I don’t see why you have to help her.” Aiko speaking through a tense jaw, her arms folded as she paced around their bedroom. “Because she was once mine, Aiko. I can’t sit by and watch her deteriorate like this.” Kamilah said as she gazed through the window up at the bright moon in the sky.

Aiko huffed, gripping Kamilah’s collar as her gaze fell to the CEO’s lips. “I think I need to remind you of who you’re with now, no?” Her voice dropped an octave, Aiko’s tongue licking a path across Kamilah’s lower lip.

“No, not tonight Aiko.” Kamilah gently, but firmly pushed Aiko off with a sigh. “You still love her, don’t you?” Aiko’s eyes flashed with hurt as Kamilah nodded quietly.

“How could I not love her? I know that we were together before but...this can’t go on. Not anymore.” Kamilah offered a small smile, kissing Aiko’s knuckles ever so softly.

“Ugh, fine. Whatever.” Aiko scoffed before storming out of the room, mumbling curses under her breath. “I’ll get that little weasel, she’s gone.” Aiko harshly whispered before rushing out of the club.

Four weeks later….

Amy, Jax, Adrian and Kamilah all gathered round in the club, a stage brightly lit in the front with a microphone on a stand.

Amy jumped up the stage, excitedly gripping the mic and tapping the tip. “Testing, testing.” Her voice rang through the room, the other three gazing up at the woman on stage.

Without warning, music started blaring through the speakers, the floor pounding with the bass. Amy gripped the mic tighter and closed her eyes. A smooth, deep voice rang through the speakers and set the gang into a trance.

“What a badass.” Lily chuckled as she sipped the beer in her hand.

“You’re saying that to a woman whose come from a small town in Massachusetts, making it big in NYC and successfully taking down the biggest threat the shadow world has ever faced. I’d say that’s quite badass.” Kamilah smirked behind her glass, watching Amy with rapt attention.

Adrian laughed and fixed the liquor behind it’s replacing place on the shelf, “Nothing less than remarkable, if you ask me. She’s made such a big difference to so many people. To us, especially.”

They all nodded in agreement before Jax spoke up. “She’s sacrificed everything for us. Love, her family, her friends...let alone the only humanity inside her. All because that psycho Rheya can’t give up her lust for power.”

Just as Amy had started the song, she closed it on a high note as the bass from the speakers started to cease. She opened her eyes to see the gang gazing intensely at her, studying her as if she was a display in a museum.

“Well, this has been fun but...I’m ready to hit the hay.” Lily yawned and outstretched her arms, Jax laughing and slinging an arm around her shoulders. “Right behind ya.”

With Adrian and Kamilah not far on their heels, Amy felt her voice rising from her throat again. She had nothing on her mind but the lyrics spinning through her head, Kamilah the source behind them.

“My head's under water, but I'm breathing fine.

You're crazy and I'm out of my mind…”

Kamilah lingered at the threshold of the door, her ears peeking up as she listened to Amy’s strong voice.

“Cause all of me,

Loves all of you,

Love your curves and all your edges,

All your perfect imperfections.”

Amy poured her heart out into the words as her chest pounded with desire and longing for her lover and partner. She imagined Kamilah standing before her, her graceful smile and endless chestnut eyes staring right back into hers.

Kamilah flicked her gaze back to Amy once before walking away, a small smile spreading across her face as she hummed the lyrics. “Perhaps, she does still love me…” She whispered to herself quietly.

A few days later, Amy found herself in the terrace pool, her arms leaning back on the glass as she gazed at Kamilah in front of her. Those deep eyes gazed right through Amy, Amy so lost in them that she didn’t realize when Kamilah had gotten closer.

Kamilah’s breath tickled her neck, before the CEO lifted her head, purposely brushing her lips to Amy’s. “Will...you allow me to kiss you, Amy?” A hopeful look shone in her eyes, the same way the moonlight reflected off the pool and into her orbs.

Amy didn’t bother to respond, because she cupped Kamilah’s face...kissing her with every ounce of longing inside her body. Their lips crashed, Kamilah’s hands exploring Amy’s body as their tongues swirled around one another’s. They found a familiar rhythm, the moment feeling as if it was meant to be.

Not long after, Kamilah lifted the younger vampire out of the pool, wrapping Amy’s legs around her hips before she carried them inside for a well needed night full of passion, and desire.

—————————————-—

“It’s time.” Amy strapped her weapons to her hips before looking around at the rest of the group. “We either destroy Rheya and her crew now, or we live forever under her reign.”

Everyone nodded in agreement, finalizing the last of their plans and securing their weapons. Kamilah took Amy’s hands, resting her forehead to her own. “No matter what happens, I love you Amy.”

They both knew what happened last time those words were spoken, when everyone mourned Amy after her ‘death’. “I love you too Kamilah, I’ll always love you.” With a soft smile, Amy pecked Kamilah’s lips and turned to lead the way to Rheya’s mansion.

“Amy, you’ve retur-“ Rheya was thrown back against the wall, the plaster beneath her breaking and crumbling. Rheya cackled into the night before lifting herself into the air.

“Do you really think you and your pathetic crew can defeat me? The First?” As if on command, Gauis led a small army of ferals towards the four. “They’re not just my crew, they’re my family!” Amy lunged for Rheya, honing her senses and channeling her energy into the First’s mind.

Kamilah was one of the first to spring into action, instinctively toward Gaius. Their daggers clashed together, their faces inches apart as Kamilah wore a harsh frown, whereas Gaius had a smirk. “So we meet again, my Queen.” The sound of metal on metal filled the room as the battle continued, before Kamilah swept out his feet from underneath him. “I’m not your Queen, Gaius.” Her daggers hovered over his throat, “But, I will be the death of you.” Without hesitation, she slashed her daggers across his neck, beheading him instantly.

After that, the battle seemed to cease except for Amy and Rheya. “You took everything from me! My friends, my emotions, my humanity!”

Amy plunged her hand deep into Rheya’s chest, Rheya gasping through unable to move because of Amy’s control. She yanked the beating heart out of the vampires chest, blood dripping down her wrist. “And now I’ll take everything from you.”

Rheya lay lifeless, before crumbling to ash the same way Gaius had. Ferals ash covered the floors of the manor as the group reeled back from the attacks.

“Amy, you're alright…” The younger vampire collided with Kamilah, latching on for dear life. Kamilah tightened her hold and exhaled the breath she didn’t realize she was holding.

“I love you Kamilah…”

“I love you too, My Queen.”