#sparrow: i like to be shoved against walls but Not Like This

[the-californicationist]

The Window (4 of 7)

Ch 01 // Ch 02 // Ch 03 // Ch 04 // Ch 05 --- AO3 Link

Seeing him again had been a shock. They’d arrived late — not that you were checking on their flight or anything — and they were all a bit worse for wear. Usually, after any mission, good or bad, the flight home was cathartic. Everyone could breathe easy. They were going home to good food and infinite WiFi. It was cause for celebration, no matter how beaten and bruised they felt. But, this time was different.

Price was walking through the hangar while you were cataloging ammunition shipments, lowly desk work while your leg healed up, and he looked so small. Well, he still towered over all of the other soldiers in the bay - except for Ghost - but he just looked so pale and listless. His eyes were dull, staring at the ground, watching his feet take their steps, aimlessly driven to his next destination. 

Ghost followed him, equally distracted. His mask was off, and you could see his eye-black smeared all the way down to his mouth, like he’d been rubbing his face, fretting. Gaz had looked furious. He was tossing their gear like it had personally offended him, and he railed into one of the trainees for getting in his way. His warm brown eyes had turned cold and harsh, unfeeling. 

Soap was the worst. He jumped from the chopper and immediately started to scan the room, looking for you. He pulled one of the mechanics aside and you heard him asking for you by name, and as the man pointed in your direction, you hid behind the crates. Undeterred, he headed your way, so you crawled into the dark space between where he wouldn’t find you. He searched and searched, pushing aside heavy boxes and truck wheels, hunting for you. He became frantic, pacing back and forth, until Price called his name. His eyes lingered on the darkness where you were hidden, looking but not seeing. Then, glassy-eyed, he retreated, his gaze turning from desperation to unbridled frustration. 

It was when you’d been trying to sneak back to the barracks that Price had found you, chasing you through the base. You weren’t running, per se, but you were moving quick enough, and you had quite the head start. He, however, was sprinting, pushing people out of his way, calling after you. When he saw the look on your face, he knew he was in trouble. 

“Get back here, Sparrow! That’s an order,” he shouted down the hall. 

You turned around to face him, throwing up your hands in an exaggerated shrug,

“You’re not my CO, sir.”

“Spar — Get out of the bloody way!” He shoved a trainee into the wall, pushing past him in an attempt to follow you to your room. 

Price was panting, his chest heaving as he grabbed for you, his hands sinking into your soft flesh. You wrenched your body away from him and blocked him from coming into your room. He furrowed his brow and said,

“It’s Sunday. It’s my day.”

“I’m already pregnant. Your services are no longer needed,” you spat, “Much like mine, apparently.”

You tried to shut the door on him, but he blocked it with his huge shoulders, looking at you with a ravenous hunger in his eyes,

“I just got back from the fuckin’ sandbox. We can fight later, but I need you, little bird. Please.”

“And I need you to go fuck yourself… sir.” You slammed the door so hard that you thought you broke the hinges. 

You listened to the handle jiggle in the lock from Price’s audacity. Then, silence. 

Why was it the silence that hurt the worst?

Soap was at your door that night, banging on it, shaking the frame,

“Bonnie! I ken you’re in there. Lemme in. I jus’ wanna talk to you. Bonnie?”

Silence again, and then there was a slow, wiping sound against the door, like a big palm being slid down it. 

“Sparrow? Please.” His voice was so strange. It seemed small. Usually, Soap was the loudest, the most boisterous. And now, he sounded ill. 

You listened at the door, hurt and angry, but missing your men. Hearing Johnny beg was almost enough to make you unlock it. Almost.

Over the next week, they all tried to get back in your good graces. Gaz brought you flowers no matter where you were. He covered your desk with them, and you kept throwing them out or giving them away. He left them outside your door, sitting in the hall, complete with little handwritten cards: 

I’m so sorry, baby. Please text me? - G.

Come to the main hall? We just need to talk. - G.

You ripped his notes up and tossed them in the trashcan irreverently. 

Johnny had been a little less subtle. At the end of a long day, he’d be waiting outside your door, sometimes alone, sometimes with the others, trying to get you to listen to him, 

“C’mon, bonnie. Dinnae shut us out. Please, lass.”

You had become an expert at the cold shoulder. 

Ghost, fitting with his quiet demeanor, wouldn’t beg. In fact, he wouldn’t say a word. But, he followed you everywhere, haunting your office, stalking you at the gym, sitting at your table during briefings. One time, he cornered you in the elevator, riding with you past his own floor, his eyes burning into your skin. 

And then there was Price. Other than his presentations during mission briefings, you hadn’t heard his voice since that very first day. But, he was always around. His smoke gave him away. Your room reeked of his tobacco, and when you were working, you’d smell it in the air. But, when you’d look up to spot him, he was nowhere to be found. 

That didn’t mean he failed to reach out to you. He was always on your phone. He called you every morning when he woke up, and he called again every night when you went to bed. You never picked up, but as you lay in bed watching his smiling face pop up on your home screen again, this time, you did.

You didn’t say hello. You just waited to hear what he had to say. You needed to hear him again. Anything. Just a hello. 

“Sparrow, it was me. It wasn’t them. You have to forgive them. I was the one who —”

You hung up the phone and cried into your pillow hard enough to make yourself sick. 

After that night, things got so much worse. Your emotions were raw, and everything made you terribly sad. Your body was in desperate need of someone to care for it, and your hormones were going absolutely haywire. You were either nauseated or horny, and there was no warning which would hit at any given moment. 

You found yourself sneaking out of work early, hiding in the shower, furiously coming on your hand over and over, thinking - wishing - that it was Soap's or Gaz's mouth instead. When you lay in bed at night, you desperately ground your hips into your dildo, riding it like you wanted to ride John and his men, wanton and soaking your sheets.

Eventually, you had reached your limit, and you met Soap, Gaz, and Ghost in the mess hall. They were all sufficiently apologetic, and they were curious as to what had changed your mind.

“Dinnae get me wrong, lass. It’s been hard without you, and I’m not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, but… why are you forgivin’ us?”

“Price told me what he did. He said it wasn’t your decision to take me off the team.”

“That’s not true,” Ghost refuted, earning himself a swift nudge from Soap and a glare from Gaz. 

“Shut up, mate. Do y’know how long it’s been since —” Gaz hissed, but Ghost interrupted him.

“The captain was the one who fought to keep you on the task force. He was out-voted.”

“Out-voted? There’s only four of you. Should’ve been at draw…” you observed.

“Exactly. We all voted against him. You’ve no bloody business on the field right now, and you know it. You can barely sit here with us for ten goddamn minutes before you’re sprintin’ off to wretch in whatever can’s the closest.”

You averted your eyes from him, trying to process what he was saying, and feeling the sting of shame when you had to admit that he was right. This first trimester had been an absolute nightmare. You were a sweaty, puking mess here in the offices, and you shuddered to think of feeling this way out in the Urzikstani sands, getting shot at, eating nothing but MREs and instant decaf coffee. 

“We just wanted the best for you, birdie,” Gaz reached out for your hand and held it in his, “We know how badly you want this baby, and we…” He looked at the others for a moment and said, “And we’ve fallen in love with you, Sparrow. We can’t lose you. Let us take care of you.”

You were so tired, and you needed to release the tension you’d been holding inside of your chest, so you relented. 

They followed you back to your room and sat you on the bed, kissing you so deeply that you could feel their hunger. They’d been waiting for you. 

All of them were dripping with precome, and you watched as it stained the thick canvas fabric of their pants, making you wonder if they’d even touched themselves in the time they were apart from you. 

They began to strip themselves and you, kissing every bit of your skin, leaving purple marks from their aggressive desire. Gaz held your hand to his crotch and rubbed it across the front, making you feel his hardening rod, encouraging you to stroke him. Johnny was busying himself with your pants, aching to put his mouth on your molten core, and just the thought of his tongue was enough to make you shiver. 

Ghost bent to suck at your nipples, peeling your shirt and bra off in one go, and you held his head, cradling him with as much affection as you could muster, but as you looked up at you, he knew there was something wrong. 

“Hey, stop.”

The others, as if burned, immediately stopped their worship of your body and looked up at you. 

Ghost continued to pry,

“What is it, love?”

“I just…” You could feel yourself start to cry. 

“You miss him, don’t you?”

The realization hit you like a ton of bricks. You may have forgiven Simon, Johnny, and Kyle, but you missed John. You needed him there. Without him, even their kisses felt hollow. 

“We’ll bring him back to you, dinnae fash, hen,” Soap reassured you, throwing on his shirt. 

“C’mon, he’s in the gym. I saw him with his bag,” Ghost followed Soap out of your door, hard as a stone and trying to adjust himself to something a little less indecent. 

Gaz kissed your lips, his full mouth warm and tasting of cinnamon sugar,

“Be right back, pretty girl.”

You waited five minutes, then ten. You decided to lay down, just for a moment, and before you knew it, you were out. 

You weren’t sure how long you slept, but you woke up in someone’s arms, opening your eyes and watching as he lay you in the big, combined bed the five of you shared. You turned to see his face when you felt him crawl into the sheets beside you, blinking the sleep away and trying to catch your bearings. 

“John?” You croaked, struggling to find your voice. 

“Shh,” he whispered, “Go back to sleep, little bird.”

“They told me…”

“I know. They bloody well shouldn’t have. You need them. You’re both going to need them.”

“I can’t be mad anymore, John. I’m so tired. I just want you all back. Please,” you clutched at his chest, drawing him closer to you in the small bed, “Don’t leave me again.”

“I’m not goin’ anywhere, Sparrow. Here. Feel?”

John’s huge cock was half-hard, and he fit it inside you, slipping it into your wet pussy, squeezing himself through you, just as he loved to do, letting you warm him up. The shock of it went right to your head, and you gasped, hiding your face in the fur of his chest, letting his arms wrap around you protectively. 

“I’ll stay right here, birdie. As long as you want me to.”

“Aye,” Soap’s voice spoke up in the darkness, deep and low, “We all will. Tha’s a promise, lass.”

One by one, each of your men came back into the bed, laying their heavy arms over you and each other, bodies and limbs tangled and gripping at whatever flesh they could find. 

You felt Ghost’s hand slide over your hip, resting his hand on your belly protectively. Gaz leaned over Price to kiss you before settling his arm over the captain’s ribs, his arm cradling your arm as you cuddled with John. Soap’s feet were wrapped around yours, keeping them warm. 

As he hardened inside of you, John kissed your forehead softly. 

“I love you.”

“I love you, too, John.”

A part of you was still upset at how heavy-handed they had been with your independence, but you felt your smooth muscles fluttering against John’s cock, and it was getting harder and harder to hold onto the anger that you so desperately wanted to let go of. 

As they all settled in to sleep, you decided to try and rekindle the bond that had been broken. You rocked your hips forward, sliding your slick body up and down Price’s fat length. His eyes shot open, burning into you with a dark passion.

“Little bird?”

Your lips found his neck, trailing wet kisses up to his earlobe, taking it in your mouth and suckling at his skin. 

“Not tired, love?” Simon asked, planting his own kisses on your shoulder blades, coaxing your hips to rock back and forth, chasing your high. 

“You need us, innit tha’ right, lass?” Johnny’s fingers reached over your hip, following Simon’s and then trailed down, finding your swollen clit and rubbing slow, tight circles around it, making you soften around Price like an opening bud, petting your petals until you practically unfurled for him. 

“Ungh, Garrick. What are you… “ Price growled through gritted teeth. 

You watched as Kyle licked his hand and tucked it behind John’s back, heading for his tight asshole, fucking him gently on his fingers. 

“Keep fucking our girl, Cap. She needs you,” Kyle told him, “I’ll take care of you, sir.”

“I’m not as patient as the sergeant is, lover,” Simon rustled under the sheets to find his cock, and he held it in his fist, pumping it against your plump ass cheek, “Will you let me in?”

You turned over your shoulder and let him kiss you, feeling his soft lips slide against yours, giving him your tongue to suck on as his hands kneaded your sensitive breast. 

“Yes, Si,” you whispered, “Anything you want.”

You thought his reaction to your words was a little over the top, but Ghost was reacting to Soap, ducked below the sheets, eating his asshole, shoving his tongue deep in the tight opening, prepping him for more. 

Simon tucked his cock between your legs, spitting on his hand and rubbing it on you and himself, lubing you up in a messy, frantic sort of way, too desperate to care about finding a bottle of gel somewhere in the room. 

Johnny was already rutting into his lieutenant, making Simon’s cock leak and jump, excited and drooling for its own warm hole. When you felt his head touch your asshole, you sighed at the tingling electricity building there, eager to be stretched by him. Finally, he popped into your ass, and he began to fuck himself up into you, inch by inch, filling you up. 

Price was grinding his fat dick inside of you, and he groaned when he felt Simon join him on the other side, making you even tighter, forcing the captain to struggle to fit. 

Soon, all five of you were fucking each other at the same time, moaning and kissing and licking one another’s skin, twisted together in a wet mess, and you had never felt such pleasure before. It was as if you were all on the edge, ready to come at the faintest breath of an orgasm, waiting for the spark to ignite the whole room into an explosion of ecstacy. 

“Mmf-fuck!” Simon’s hand wrapped itself around your neck, “Your fuckin’ arsehole feels like heaven, love.”

“Dinnae stop, Si. I can feel when you bottom out in her. Makes you so tight, mate,” Johnny begged him, pinching the lieutenant’s nipples between his fingers over and over, teasing him relentlessly. 

“You alright, little bird?” John asked you, kissing you softly, barely dragging his lips across yours, dreamily moving against you harder and harder, chasing his pleasure, “Fuckin’ Garrick is takin’ away my stamina every time he rams into me like that. Gonna make me come too quick, Gaz.”

“Sorry, sir,” Kyle smiled, giving you a wink, as he licked and nipped at the same earlobe that you had, remembering how much he loved that spot, “Feels too good to stop.”

“Don’t stop,” you moaned, wrapping your hands around John’s shoulders, holding on for dear life, “Don’t ever stop.”

While you wait for the next chapter, please consider checking out my other work. Thank you!

[chocsra]

"Take the Gun and my Heart, okay?"

15! Chuuya x implied fem! reader

A/N: im back again 😜😜 please send more requests and ideas! i wanna try writing angst for my next fics

content: you're the port mafia's best markswoman/sniper & chuuya goes to you to learn ur ways, oneshot, fluff, pre-relationship, mafia work 😱, guns, coworkers? to lovers, rich chuuya era, could be gn! reader bc there are no descriptions but used she/her prns 😭

thank you sm @soleelia for the idea!

Sometimes, regular days of being in the mafia felt boring.

Most of your life was inhabited by the four same walls of the mafia's firing range, your body was free of bruises besides the callouses on your fingers from the amount of steel pressing against your palms; it almost felt like your hands grew with a silver pistol rested upon them as if royalty was granted with a crown.

When you were younger, a tall pale man with the name of Paul Verlaine taught you all the ways of a markswoman he could.

Your work consisted of staying in the firing range, assisting criminals in their weaponry choices, dealing guns; and the off chance you could go on missions.

But when you did, shit was amazing.

"Nice one, [Y/N]." A boyish voice rang through the single earpiece of your left ear, repositioning yourself planted on the ground of one of the Port Mafia's rooftops; your index finger positioned off the trigger, taking your face off of the scope. "The pleasure's all mine." You thank teasingly; even if your 'partner' was kilometers away from you, you could almost taste the cruel smirk on his face from the other side; plotting a decimation not even a mafioso with 30 years of experience could pull off.

Dazai Osamu, the youngest mafia executive in history.

He was the craziest fuck you've ever met, but you did partake in his affairs with murder and crime; just from afar. Word says he got himself a new partner on the battlefield; a boy a year older than you, he was the supposed King of The Sheep, but his mentality and brutal force screamed nothing more than that of a wolf.

"Careful, pipsqueak - backup has already been granted." the lanky boy with bandages covered all around the midst of his tainted body said with boredom sinking in his voice; blood dribbled down his forehead, emerging in the facial bandages covering his right eye. Men with firearms and knives surrounded the two teenage boys; more than ready to shoot the children under the guise of their boss.

The ginger next to him barely turned his head in Dazai's direction, his tongue swiped behind his bottom teeth in irritation; though owning a petite stature, the King of The Sheep was more than confident that all these men, despite their bodies, would fall to their knees under the crushing pressure of gravity. "I don't give a damn about your shitty backup, I didn't join the Port Mafia to be protected." the redhead smiled cheekily, a red aura glowing from his body as his right leg lifted in the air - about to throw a powerful repeating hook kick.

Bang.

Several collisions shot through the air, Chuuya was sure it was the force of his ass-kicking skills; Dazai would have flipped a coin to see if it was you or the midget who landed a shot.

The redhead launched in the air, he twisted his leg just so that his shin hit the man's forehead. However, upon doing so - blood spluttered out of the man's head, falling harshly to the ground. The small boy landed successfully on the ground, shoving his hands in his pockets with a proud smirk. Until Dazai gently pressed on his earpiece to enable the microphone. "Again, thank you, [Y/N]," he says with a sigh, watching as Chuuya's face contorts in confusion. Spinning around on his heels, the man died not by his kick; but by a metal bullet pierced through the middle of his skull; along with all the other men perfectly striked in the forehead with the small bullets.

"What?" the ginger mafioso asked with surprise, "Who the hell did that?" he sharply turned to the bandaged brunette with annoyance laced in his voice. "[Y/N], you haven't heard of her?" Dazai asks boredly, striding over to the fallen man who was their leader. "No? Dude, where'd that even come from?" Chuuya spins his head in several directions, trying to find the source of the bullets. "Up your ass." the lanky boy teased, bending down to ransack the man's clothing.

"Shut up! Guns are a good for nothin' weapon anyway! Like hell we need them!!"

"Huh? I thought you didn't like guns."

You stood across from Chuuya in the stained room of the firing range, it's length was more than long, with rather narrow walls. Bales of hay were stacked at the end of the room, protecting the wall from bullets and missed shots. From the small distance of the door creaking open, laid the only walking point of the room; as the rest were hidden by pillars that seperated individual's gunfire; and nobody wished to get shot.

The teenager ruffles his hair, almost loathing in the awkward silence of the room; even with noice cancelling headphones on. He was wearing casual clothing, usual black sweatpants and some sort of red biker jacket; accompanied by a swift movement of his orange hair, tangling between his fingers.

"About that- 'kinda feel left out, ya mind teaching me?"

"You don't know how to use a gun?"

A more awkward silence entered the room as you stare at him in disbelief, the ginger's face remained somewhat sheepish; but by his piercing azure eyes, he was irritated by something, pretty obvious. "Nah," Chuuya replies, gently pushing his hands in his pockets, walking up to you. "was never a fan of guns - ain't bullets shoot better with your hands?" the boy smirked cheekily, causing you to scoff and take off your headphones. "You're talkin' like I can manipulate gravity." you reply dryly with a creeping smile, finishing to sweep the lose bullets on the floor.

"Exactly, that's why I'm apart of the mafia." the redhead boasted defensively, rolling his tongue across his inner cheek. "I think you're the only mafioso who doesn't know how to shoot." you reply with almost a whisper, his sharp glare at you made you question your lifespan. "I've dealt with swords thanks to Kouyou, I've gone to daggers and knives for the look and practicality - so lemme ask ya this, [Y/N], why would I ever turn to guns?" you heaved a sigh at his smartass answers, sometimes you hated his stupid delusions that he always had to be right.

"Well you're here now, so technically you are turning to guns." you swipe a sleek pistol off a metal table, discharging the magazine to see if any bullets were left. "Tsk," Chuuya crossed his arms in annoyance, "You're putting words and my mouth." he scoffed, causing little bits of laughter to escape your lips. "Just shut up and listen."

"Chuuya- you can't shoot a gun with one hand." you scold in annoyance, gently taking the same pistol out of the boy's gloved hands. "Why the hell not? I see it all the time." he brushes off some dirt off his jacket, blue eyes gazing at the addition of bullets in the chamber. "You watch too many movies," you mutter in concentration, redjusting the safety junctures. "a pistol's recoil wouldn't allow you to shoot it properly, and you'd miss like, 90% of the time as a beginner." you grin mockingly, causing Chuuya to smirk in irritation.

"But Dazai does it all the time."

"I don't know- Dazai's fuckin' crazy."

"You have a point."

You laugh as you placed the gun in his hands, "Always treat a gun like it's loaded, even if we're mafia." you said softly, the ginger nodded, readjusting his position into some kind of sharp-shooter. "Got it," he rasps, pointing the silver tip of the pistol towards the cardboard target. Your eyes scan his whole body and stance with predictability, he was standing like he was holding in a shit. "C'mere," you proceed with a click of the tongue, cupping Chuuya's hands over the pistol.

The fabric of his gloves saved you from some embarrassment, but you couldn't help but feel the way his soft hair poked your face leaning over his right shoulder. "Your hand that's going to pull the trigger should only use 30% of force, all the other should be with the other hand, using 70% to support it." you inform in almost a whisper, applying pressure atop his right hand for a more firm grip, Chuuya's eyes glanced to yours with a slight pink tint on his cheeks before nodding. "Alright,"

"So, why'd you come to learn from me anyway?"

"'Cause I wanna learn from the best, yea?"

...

"What?"

"What? You don't like being complimented?"

Trying to readjust his grip on the firearm whilst his breath was fanning your face and neck was so damn distracting, you don't even think he knows how close or what he's doing; especially with his trademark smirk and alluring aura. Chuuya's always been a bastard, but he wasn't all bad when you had a civil conversation; actually, maybe you two had one too many civil conversations. "Okay, think I got it, ima shoot." he nods with confidence, you take a step back as the redhead takes a few moments to reposition his stance and well, learn how to shoot.

"There's two parts of a gun that allows you to shoot: 1. the front, 2. the rear, match those two up and it's like a puzzle." you inform, pointing to the junctures of the firearm before yet again taking a step back. "And don't forget double action, it holds more trigger pull than all other shots."

From all the talking you just did, there was only one thing on your mind; Chuuya. A conversation so little that felt so heavy, were you that touch starved? Nobody visited you in the range, only older men who were practicing their skills. Infact, Chuuya hates guns; he believes that it held no value over him in the mafia and a machine used by non-ability users and non-ability users only. And yet, he still learnt from you, he could've went to anyone else; he could've went to another person to watch him fail.

Too much of your previous conversations filled your head; wine, motorcycles, cigarettes, music.. maybe you did share one too many conversations, you hate the way someone so violent could you make you feel huma-

Bang.

For the first time in your life, with or without headphones; the sound of a bullet puncturing cardboard startled you, even just a little. Damn it, that ginger did a number on you. You tilt your head up to see if the bullet hit, indeed it did not. "Fuck," the redhead groans, causing you to snicker a little bit, attempting to stiffle it with your hand. "Man, shut up.." he scowls in irritation, a small smile creeping on his face. "C'mon, the chambers not finished, you can do it." you cheer the boy on, patting his back lightly, Chuuya only chuckles with a shake of the head before turning back to the target.

"You wanna know why I think you're the best?" the mafioso continues to shoot, gritting his teeth everytime the metal bullet pierced anything but cardboard. "Why?" you ask curiously, watching as he finishes the chamber, setting the firearm down at the decently shot target.

"Have dinner with me and find out."

He smirks confidently, watching as you stare at the ginger blankly. "You wanna shoot up a restaurant?" you cock a brow in confusion, taking off your headphones. "No- what?"

"What I mean is, let's go out and enjoy some good food tonight, 'kay?"

[killmeprettypleasee]

FEELING TOUCHSTARVED?

Note: had been been playing this dark romantic game called touchstarved and it made me simp for Ais, i searched "Ais x Male reader" or Ftm reader and theres none, my boy needs fics..

Warnings: SMUT, touchstarved reader, i dont think Ais is a gentle dude but fluffy sex, praises, soft dom Ais, ooc Ais, no plot, just straight to the sex, love hate rela, SHORT!! im losing motivations...

_______________

You hated Ais, you hated how much he looks and acts..

then, why are you on a bed in a inn with him with his dick shoved deeeepp in your warm depts?.. Why are you saying soft breathy 'I love you' s to each other?

why are you so needy for his touch?..

There must be wrong with you right?, you should'nt just let some demon you despise touch you and make you feel so special, making you feel loved and wanted.

Despite his heavy and bone breaking thrust he seemed to be whispering sweet nothings in your ear like you some special entity, but it made your tummy feel weird, tears brim your eyes and wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer, wanting to be impossibly close to him as much as possible.

You just could'nt help it! You feel like your life was dependant on the man, you need more of those sweet praises, it made you so special.

"My sweet boy.. you're so wet and warm.. god you're so good for me.."

His words made a knot form in your tummy, he wiped your tears and nuzzled up against your neck, the way he called you a good boy just made you feel like you were over the moon, as his thrust gotten faster.. impossibly human, his teeth grazed against your skin and bit down finally you marking you as his.

His bite made you wince and whimper at the pain but he licked it with an apologetic look, "I'm sorry my sweet boy.. I just had to claim my precious baby"

suddenly that knot in your tummy snapped when he hit that spot into you, causing your cock to cum all over his stomach and yours aswell, your walls tightened up around his cock causing pressure around his base, this made him cum in your velvety cave right after you..

The feeling of being filled so much by him made you gasp out a moan and go limp, your mind was foggy.. thinking only about him, he looks at your state and chuckled..

"Wish for a round two, Little sparrow?"

[soapsbaby]

☆ Day 2 // Praise // König ☆

Summary: He loves to praise you and everything you do.

Characters: König x Reader

Themes: nfsw (mdni), oral (m receiving), PIV, size difference, lots of praise, overstimulation, unprotected

Word Count: 1500

The moment the door was shut behind you, König had you pushed against the wall, his huge frame towering over you. 

“Finally I have you to myself, mein kleiner Spatz.” (my little sparrow)

His voice was deep, quiet enough that you could barely hear him, but still clear enough that every single word made you shiver.

He had to bend down so that he could lift his mask, pull you in for a kiss.

The desperation between the two of you was palpable, all day you had been teasing one another without a way to actually release the tension between you.

It was almost ten at night now and the last meeting was finally over and you had been able to sneak away to his room without anyone noticing that you were together.

His big, gloved hand gently pushed a strand of hair behind your ear as he pulled away from you, the fabric of his mask falling over his face again.

The look in his eyes was soft, gentle.

"You're so fucking beautiful.", he said quietly, his hand gently cupping your face. 

"Oh, shut up."

You felt your face flush bright pink, struggling to keep eye contact with him.

"No… No, never."

He tugged on your shirt until you lifted your arms, letting him take it off. You were only in your underwear and your skirt now, a skirt that was technically too scandalous to wear around the base but that no one had called you out on yet.

You knew the effect it had on König, that’s why you took the risk of being reprimanded.

His hands snaked around your back, skillfully unhooking your bra and letting it fall to the floor with the shirt.

“So gorgeous.”, he muttered as his hands gently cupped your breasts, sighing as he kneaded your soft skin between his fingers.

Even with the mask you knew there was a smile on his lips as you dropped to his knees in front of him, never breaking eye contact.

He sighed softly as you unzipped his pants, finally freeing him from the tightness of his boxers, pulling them down his legs so he could step out of them.

"I've been waiting for this all day.", he said, hand still cupping your face as if he didn't want to let go of you.

You gulped as his erection sprang free. It didn't matter how many times you had seen it, the size surprised you every time.

He watched intently as you wrapped your hands around him, giving him a few strokes. Both of your hands still weren't quite enough to grasp all of him. 

"Shit…", he muttered under his breath as you ran your tongue across his entire length before wrapping your lips around him. 

"So fucking beautiful."

You looked up at him, meeting his gaze as you took him as far as your throat allowed you, bobbing your head and coating him in your spit.

"Always so good for me.", he said, you knew even from just seeing his eyes that there was still a smile on his lips.

His eyes fell shut as you moved your hands again, twisting around his shaft as your tongue circled the head of his cock.

"You're so perfect."

One of his hands grabbed a fistful of your hair, not using it to move you, just to have a grasp on you. 

He let you set your own pace, just watching you, quiet moans escaping his lips.

You gagged as he hit the back of your throat, too big for him to take all of him.

“I’m sorry, Baby. You’re doing so well.”, he said quietly, the strain obvious in his voice. “But I need to fuck you so badly.” 

You nodded as you got back on your feet, legs a little shaky, thinking of what would be next. 

He pushed you onto the bed with a gentle shove.

You watched in awe as he gave his cock a few pumps before crawling onto the bed with you, towering over you in both height and size. 

“Open your legs for me, Maus.”, he said softly, smiling as you followed his order immediately. There was a bit of embarrassment of baring yourself to him like that, but it subsided almost immediately when he crawled on top of you, fingers gently teasing the hem of your panties. 

With a smooth tug he pulled them down your legs, discarding them.

His fingers were back under your skirt immediately, parting your folds.

“Shit…”, he hummed, his masked lips pressed to your neck. “So wet for me already… You enjoy sucking me off that much, hm?” Your eyes had fallen shut, cheeks bright red at his teasing, but you nodded.

“Such a good girl… And just for me.”

You gasped as two of his fingers entered you, curling up to give you the maximal amount of stimulation he could.

“Just for you.”, you echoed.

He had been right about how much it turned you on to please him. You loved his taste, the way he felt, the noises you were able to draw out of him with your lips, your tongue, your hands.

But most of all you loved the way he spoke to you, the way he praised you. 

It drove you insane and it made you always do your very best to gain his approval.

You whined as he drew his fingers out of you, slipping his hand under his mask so he could taste you.

“You taste like fucking honey.”, he said quietly before he was on top of you again, lifting his mask so he could kiss your neck, sucking your skin hard enough that you knew there would be bruises tomorrow morning. You’d have to find a way to cover them up if you wanted to leave your room.

He chuckled as he heard you moan. 

“Do you want me, Schatz?”, he asked quietly. You knew that he knew your answer, but he wanted to tease you, wanted to make you say it

“Yes.” “How badly? Use your words.”

His hand slipped between his legs, grabbing his cock and dragging it through your slit, gathering your wetness on his tip.

“Please… Please, König,  I need you. I need you so badly, I-”

You were cut off when he finally thrust forward. You had to bite back a quiet whine as you felt the ache of being filled by him. It always took you a moment to get used to his size.

“So good… So good for me. Look at how well you’re taking me, mein Engel.” 

His lips were still on your neck, kissing you, sometimes biting down slightly.

For a moment he just held still until he could feel you relax under him. You gasped as he slowly started to shift, drawing himself out of you and then fucking back inside of you, mumbled words of praise on his lips as he did.

“Fuck… Fuck, you feel so good.” 

He slowly picked up the pace, slamming into you until you couldn’t hold back your moans anymore, desperate noises escaping you with every thrust. 

He knew the perfect balance between not hurting you, but also being rough enough to make your mind go blank.

“Touch yourself for me, Baby. I want you to come around my cock."

You followed his command without question, of course you did. Your fingers circled your clit, making you see white as you did.

“König-” “What is it, honey?” He pushed himself upwards so you could look him in the eyes, the mask smoothly falling over his face again. 

“Feels so good.” “I know, Baby, I know.” His pace was brutal and you could feel yourself getting closer and closer to your release, your breath coming in stutters. 

“You’re doing so, so well for me. And I want you to come for me, okay?”

You didn’t know whether it was him getting even slightly rougher with your body, your fingers on your clit or his words, but you cried out as your orgasm came over you, tightening around him.

“Good girl, such a good girl.”

Your hands desperately grasped his arms, seeking something to hold onto as he chased his own orgasm.

“Please-” You didn’t even know what you wanted to say, the overstimulation of still being fucked by him through your orgasm making you almost dizzy.

On one hand you wanted to squirm out of his grasp to escape that ache in your core, on the other you wanted him to continue forever, until you couldn’t form a single coherent thought anymore.

“Scheiße, Baby, I am… So close. I think I’m going to… Oh fuck-” His thrusts became erratic as he came with a growl, coming as deeply inside of you as he could.

You moaned as you could feel him fill you, warmth pooling between your legs.

He groaned as he came down from his orgasm, pulling you close to his chest, holding you against him, your body against his. Your face was buried in the fabric of his mask, desperate to catch your breath.

“So good for me, every single time.”

[lixiesfreckless]

The Way You Shatter | h. js.

➸ synopsis: you should love him. you do love him. but not like this.

➸ starring: han jisung x female reader(ft. a mention of another skz member)

➸ word count: 1.6k

➸ general content: probably the angstiest thing I have ever written. unrequited love, established relationship, mentions of metaphorical blood

➸ warnings: alcohol consumption, no real happy ending

➸ rating: teen+

➸ author’s note: a fic I wrote after I broke up with my boyfriend a few years back. I always see people talking about how hard it is to have your heart broken, but no one ever mentions the pain of knowing you have to break someone's heart, to do the right thing. so I wrote this to cope and process my feelings, in the hope that maybe this would help someone going through a similar situation. you are so not alone.

♫ recharge- yasumu

“I don’t wanna break up with you.”

Somehow, these are the scariest words that have ever been uttered to you.

For the first time, someone has given you their heart; something so precious and invaluable, fragile and vulnerable, and you don’t know what to do with it. You don’t have a clue.

He’s looking at you with watery eyes, the same eyes you once saw long nights and baby names inside of. A future. Something to build forever upon. 

Now all you see is dark umber rimmed with red.

You’re supposed to say something back, you realize. People don’t give others their heart so they can zone out and stare at the wall, leaving the blood to seep out between their fingers.

You know exactly what you’re supposed to say to make the tears stop. You want to rub the space between his eyebrows until the wrinkles that lie there smooth out, until the corners of his mouth lift in relief. You want to run so far away from him; erase any chance of you hurting him again. Invent time travel and stop yourself from saying yes too quickly.

“I don’t wanna break up with you either.”

The words taste so vile in your mouth. You hate yourself for every syllable you speak. Liar, you hear yourself say in the back of your mind. 

You almost don’t recognize your own voice; thick with tears and stress and yet so devoid of emotion. There are robots with more character. Again but with more feeling, the director in your head screams at you.

But Jisung doesn’t seem to think any of that, no— he lets out a broken sigh, squeezing your hand in his, and it feels as if you’re being suffocated. As if the thumb caressing your knuckle is slanting against your windpipe, stopping you from saying the words you desperately need to tell him.

You feel yourself continue talking. Reassuring him that you’ll get through this, that you can work through this together. That you’re just going through a dry spell. You can’t tell who you’re trying to convince anymore.

Please stop talking. Please, you’re only making it worse.

Even the people pleaser inside of you is wincing, knowing that this cannot last for long. That you cannot pretend for another second. That your words are more hollow than sparrow bones.

Please don’t believe me. Please figure it out so I don’t have to splinter your heart by hand.

Your eyes meet with his and you finally notice it. How his eyes don’t penetrate past your physical appearance anymore. How the idea of love isn’t immortalized in his irises. 

It finally clicks once you stop talking, but not in the satisfying way legos do. It manifests in your stomach dropping, the thought that no, this cannot be remedied, you have crossed the point of no return but will not be paying the price.

You have effectively shoved shards of glass into the heart in your hand. With every sentence you spoke, you mindlessly wove together a world where you could continue, with him. With his chestnut hair and round cheeks, his sweet songs and guitar melodies, his full laugh, his doc martens.

You should love him. You do love him.

But not like this.

And so the world you wove together takes its strings and wraps them around your neck, all of the promises working together against you, and you curse your tongue for being so quick to please, his eyes for begging you to make the pain go away.

“I love you,” he says, voice barely above a whisper as he looks up at you, eyes expectant.

You must say it back. After everything you’ve said, you have to right? Maybe the feeling will come back, if it was ever there. Maybe you won’t compromise yourself to ensure a smile again. Maybe you’ll repeat the words back and it won’t feel like you’re removing a shard from his heart, and shoving it right into your own.

But it’s in saying the words that you realize what a mistake you’ve made. You wonder if Jisung could finally tell you about the thing each of his songs talk about. Looking into your eyes, he is bound to figure out what love is.

After all, you’re much more likely to notice something when it’s not there.

“I love you too.”

In its absence.

…

“As long as you love him, I think you guys will be okay.” He raises his bottle to his lips, half expecting you to nod your head, say something, have some sort of reaction.

But you sit across from him, lifeless, and instead of waiting for the cold soju to hit the back of his throat, he tips his head forward, setting the bottle down beside him.

“Y/n,” he says with a hint of concern, “you do love him, right?”

Your eyes dart to his, big and brown, half expecting there to be worry, fear, anything to be swimming in those coffee-colored irises.

Instead you find Hyunjin looking at you with a blank expression, tracing the rim of the bottle opening with his index finger. He’s so carefully neutral about the way he looks right now, which only tells you one thing.

He already knows how you feel.

About Jisung.

You hesitated for a second too long and now you are glass, so perfectly see-through for Hyunjin to dissect and psychoanalyze. 

It only takes those two seconds of silence, your hesitation, for Hyunjin to see, to know what has been plaguing your thoughts.

“Yes.” You gulp hard. “Yes, I do love him.” Does love sound like a forced phrase?

Hyunjin is one of those friends that likes to surprise you. With his talent, his paintings, his dances, his outbursts of laughter. He is a constant in your life and yet, you never know what to expect from him.

“But you are not in love with him.”

You did not expect Hwang Hyunjin to read you so easily on the floor of his living room, to explain your situation in the simplest most detailed way possible.

Your mouth opens to fight his suggestion, because in your head, he is wrong. In your head, it is crazy that he would assume such a thing. You kiss Jisung hello and goodbye, you already have his birthday gift, you love his dog, his family, his smile, his laugh. Isn’t it obvious? Isn’t it enough?

Your heart knows it isn’t. Your mouth closes again.

Hyunjin knows what to expect from you, which is why even though he just made a statement, he left it open ended. Open for you to admit that it went wrong, somewhere. There’s no judgement in his eyes; part of you wonders if he’s been here before. Teetering on the line between obligation and feeling. You hope he’s never been here.

But you’ve been here, you feel like you’ve lived a million lifetimes here, and now it feels like the tear rolling down your cheek is the first step down off the tightrope you’ve called home.

You don’t want to admit it. But what’s the use in hiding it— if Hyunjin could see it, who’s to say no one else has? You don’t want to indirectly break Jisung’s heart like that.

Eight words is all it takes for him to break the glass that is you. And you shatter all over his floor.

Hyunjin doesn’t say a word when you sniffle. He picks up his bottle and walks over to you, bunny-shaped slippers stepping on the scattered splinters of you on the floor. He crouches next to you, hooking the cuff of his hoodie around his thumb so he can swipe away the wetness on your cheek.

“Y/n. He will be okay.”

It’s no use, the dam breaks, and Hyunjin catches you as you start sobbing, releasing all of the pent up stress and worry you’ve been holding for weeks. You try to speak but it’s barely understandable, but it’s met with soft hushes, whispers of it’s going to be alright, you didn’t mean to hurt him, you tried, you tried, you tried.

Hyunjin doesn’t say a word when you take his bottle of soju, and down the rest of it in one go. He doesn’t speak when you start stringing your tears into sentences. You let him into the darkest corner of your mind and he doesn’t snoop, he just sits and waits for you to show him around.

And you show him everything. How you never got butterflies when you kissed. How you haven’t felt your heartbeat in months. How you think Bbama understands you better than he does. How he’s never done anything wrong, but the more you try to love him the more you start to resent him. And how the thought of resenting Jisung makes you want to throw up.

You remember the exact moment you realized you weren’t in love with him, how you looked into his eyes and asked yourself, how did it get to this point?

“I don’t want to break up with him,” you whisper out shakily, and Hyunjin nods back at you, still drying your tears with his sleeve. “I know how it would break him. I can’t do that to him.” Not after you reassured him. Not after you splintered his heart and stabbed your own.

Hyunjin has a couple things he could say back to you. He could tell you that it’s no good leading Jisung on from here. That lying to yourself will make you bleed from the inside out. That he doesn’t want to see his two closest friends in tears either. 

But the sorrowful look in his eyes tells you all of that already.

“I know,” he sighs, eyes just the tiniest bit more glassy.

What more can be said, really?

[telli1206]

21 for Jaylos please my dear ❤️

So sorry for the delay, my wonderful Sparrow 💖 It took me a minute to find inspiration for this one. I hope you like it!

21. Character B hugging Character A immediately, sobs racking through their body after being shaken awake from their nightmare and Character A not knowing what the hell to do with their arms so they awkwardly pat their back, saying, “There, there…” 

Jay doesn't welcome most touches.

There's really no reason for them. Unless he's getting something out of it, of course.

Like, when he "accidentally" bumps into Third in the market to slip a hand in his pocket, feigning an apology just so he can make off with a few of his best knives. Only to turn around and sell them back to him a few days later. 

He can accept that kind of touch.

Or, when he slips a hand under Maddy's shirt just outside Dragon Hall, pressing her up against the cold brick wall so he can whisper sweet nothings into her ear, making her swoon and placating her just enough so he can slip all of the gold rings off her fingers.

Not really wanted touches, per se, but needed to get the job done. And he’s ok with that.

Even Mal’s and Evie’s touches make sense. When Mal shoves and screams at him to move faster when they’re about to make a score, she’s just taking charge. And also reminding everyone around them that she’s not to be messed with. He would, and has done, the same. So how could he fault her for that? That’s just survival mode tactics.

Evie’s touches are different. She’s not being assertive with her actions, not really. Or even mean. She’ll just swat at Jay lightly, usually in the arm or chest. And 90% of the time it’s because of Jay’s awful pickup lines or dirty jokes that he won’t hesitate to try out on her every chance he gets. Her response is what he expects, to make him look like a flirt. A lothario. A ladies’ man. That’s what he wants from it, to maintain his reputation. 

So he’ll gladly take a hit from Evie. He’ll even smile through it. Because really, she’s helping him out, and she knows that. It helps her reputation, too. And he’s happy to give her that.

Which is, a little weird. Jay usually doesn’t care about what anyone else gets out of touching him. But it’s always been different with Evie. She’s the exception. The only one, so far.

Until one night, when Jay decides to sleep at the hideout. 

He, Evie, Mal, and Carlos had gotten caught in a particularly bad storm. By the time they had made it back to their hideout, Jay’s clothes were soaked through completely and his body was wracked with shivers. He was too frozen and exhausted to even think about trying to make it home, and passed out quickly on the makeshift bed they had shoved in the corner. He’s not even conscious long enough to know what the others decided to do, letting sleep take him over as soon as his back hit the too-stiff mattress.

He’s woken suddenly by arms snaking around him from behind, making him jump. He flips around quickly, his shocked eyes adjusting to the inky black night. And the arms are back before he even knows what’s happening, grasping desperately at his waist to pull him in closer. Jay’s hand moves to bony shoulders, ready to shove the figure away, until he hears a familiar sob that leaves him frozen in place.

“Jay...it’s...she’s...” 

It’s Carlos’ voice. Or, his cries actually. He sounds so broken, and Jay’s breath hitches in his throat as he listens, his fingers tightening on the shoulders he now recognizes.

“She won’t stop! Tell her I didn’t do it! Please, Jay...”

Carlos chokes back another sob, and Jay can feel how hard his body is shaking under his fingertips.

“Um. It’s ok ‘Los. She’s not here. This...you-you’re, at the hideout. You’re not home.You’re. Ok.”

Jay feels stiff in this moment. Awkward. Watching Carlos’ body heave with sobs, a stream of steady tears now glinting in the moonlight as it streaks down his cheeks. It was more than he could bear. The fear emanating from Carlos is so real, so intense, it’s palpable. Like a thick cloud hung in the air, filling Jay’s lungs and burdening each breath. He wants to do something to help, anything, but he has no idea where to start.

He lets his hands slip from Carlos’ shoulders, keeping his eyes focused on the boy as his sobs slowly start to break, ebbing away to softer coughs and sniffles. As Carlos’ breaths even out and his body relaxes into the mattress, he slowly lets his shoulders drop, tipping his head up and opening his eyes to fully focus on Jay, who tenses at the sight. Carlos’ full brown eyes are red-rimmed and bloodshot, still brimming wet with tears.

Instinctively, Jay stretches a hand out, forcing a weak smile as he reaches around to Carlos’ back. Carlos perks a curious brow at Jay’s movements, his eyes widening and releasing an unshed tear when he feels a short smack.

“There...there,” Jay chokes out, his voice broken and barely above a whisper.

He pats his back again, his arm curved out awkwardly to avoid any more contact with their bodies. Jay lets his eyes slide up, trying to focus them just above Carlos’ forehead so he can avoid the boy’s beautiful pleading eyes.

But the angle leaves ample room for Carlos to move closer, which he takes full advantage of before Jay can react, swooping in and looping his arms around his torso, burying his face in the crook of Jay’s neck, pushing himself inside the once empty space between them so tightly that his soft white curls start to tickle Jay’s chin.

And Jay just sits there, arm still outstretched, and lets him. Carlos nuzzles in close, really close, so that their bodies are flush against each other, chest to chest. He rubs his nose into Jay’s neck to muffle the sniffles he’s still fighting, and that tickles almost as much as the hair that’s making Jay’s nose twitch. And Jay’s hip is starting to hurt from the awkward side angle he’s been leaning in for so long. It’s not the most comfortable position he’s ever been in, but at the same time, he finds that he might actually like it.

He’s warm, for one thing. Carlos is slotted so perfectly against his body that Jay can feel the warmth emanating from him from tip to toe. Even the soft hair in his face is warm and comforting, smelling faintly of coffee beans and some kind of fruit. Jay finds that he’s taking deep inhales just to get more of Carlos’ scent.

Very, very slowly, he starts to decompress, a calmness taking over him as he lets his arms drop, his palms now resting on Carlos’ back, followed by the rest of the length of his arms. He’s fully draped across him now, and Jay even lets his head fall, resting it lightly against the back of Carlos’ neck.

But when he hears a contented sigh escape from Carlos’ lips, feels the soft breath ghosting along his skin, he can’t fight back the smile curling on his lips. He pulls Carlos in closer, reveling in the way their bodies melt together.

Maybe he doesn’t need this touch. But he wants it.

Send me an ask!

[spotsupstuff]

I don't know why, but Beppi just makes me smile. There is something funny in that a Raindeer, the most pacific animal in Rain World we know of, is just pissed off at anything and anyone.

I bet Beppi has a favorite person, and my take is that is Brook for some reason. That child can pacify anything with their nap powers and their blankie. Nobody knows how that works.

Also love that worm of the string in ancient times au. Sparrow teaching him to walk, the shenanigans of taking him to know the family, the Beppi ride, the first reaction of Sparrow's family at a iterator just showing up in their house with Sparrow...*afectionated sighs* the possibilities...

raindeers are assholes, man, they might not actively attack the player physically but urgh the mental damage. that's where Beppi's whole shtick comes from

IF HE IS TO HAVE A FAV PERSON MY MONEY IS ON GRANDA ACTUALLY. they can be pissy and spiteful against everything ever together <3 however Brook is the only one who wields the power to do Something about that rage. what she do? she throws her blanket over his head and five seconds later his head just flops fowards. completely conked out immediately. just like parrots.

with the worm off the string au i'm mostly thinkin about like,, when it Happens,,,,,

cuz i'm imagining that the puppet just kind of pops off in the middle of the night and for *some* reason he's still functioning normally. but now there is no Project Caper of Euros: Hivemind, it's just him. one creature. little Caper. so small and lonely and scared- he can't even move properly. he doesn't know what's happening, why is it happening to him and if he's going to be alright- didn't he needed that tube in his back to survive? is he going to die? he doesn't want to die- wait, no- please

he still manages to contact Sparrows on her Mechanic's watch. he quietly pleads her for help, unlike usually when he's loud. so she's worried and he isn't responding to any of her follow up questions

as fast as she can she throws her masks and jacket on, doesn't even bother with the hair, and books it to the structure's entrance

everything seems mostly normal! the walls are still beeping as they should, the water is rushing through, the gravity generators seem to be working in order. even the neurons before the puppet chamber are flicking around as they normally do

"caper, i swear if this is some kind of prank-" she starts to say as she enters the chamber, but stops short when she registers how dark the room is. that the umbilical arm is lying motionless and, much to her absolute horror, the puppet is miserably curled up a ways away. nothing of the umbilical equipment is connected to it. it's going to *die* right in front of her. one of his most important pieces is just going to wither away

shoving herself out of the tunnel, tumbling down and then quickly forcing herself back on her legs to run to the puppet, she starts to inspect its back to figure out what could've happened and how could she fix this

and the most surprising and scary thing happens. the puppet Moves. but not in the spasming kind of way that dying puppets allegedly tend to do, it's a slow movement of a hand intentionally trying to plant itself on the floor. then it's a slow movement of curling in on itself even more. that's not supposed to be happening

"...caper?" she settles a hand on the puppet's side, then comes around to get a look at its face. and oh look at that... that face is twisted in fear and panic and now when she looks closer, he's shaking

then he cautiously looks to her. "sparrows help, i don't- know what's happening. *it's so quiet,* it's so so quiet i-"

that's not expected death happening before her, that's a panic attack. she doesn't understand how this is possible, all of education says that this is not supposed to be possible at All, but oh she is familiar with panic attacks

gingerly she collects him into an embrace. softly presses him against her chest. he clings on and whines and trembles apart. she gives him the time he needs, hushing him and gently rocking, stroking his bare back

and he does calm down! because maybe he is disconnected from the rest of what used to make him Him, maybe everything changed and he can't understand it- Sparrows is here and she's still the same. he can't reach out into his components for safety, but he Can find safety with her

she is still part of his heart just like he's part of her and judging by the look on her face when he finally dares to peek, she will be here to help him solve this strange thing

she then helps him sit up, bundles him up in her jacket all fussy about it. they don't leave the chamber right away, because he's still unsure about it- he isn't Meant to leave himself behind like this. and also Sparrows needs to quickly check if the structure is still running alright (thankfully, it is. even if way less organized)

it quickly becomes apparent that Euros won't be able to learn how to walk all that quickly, so she resorts to carrying him on her back while they get out of the structure and then when outside and she doesn't need her hands, she takes him bridal style to the Mechanic's house. or her current home, i suppose

and while she's carrying him all bundled up, with his head resting on her shoulder, eyes half closed, he gets the feeling that despite all of this being so scary it will turn out alright

stars and FUCKIN heavens above, they'd finally for the first time ever get to sleep together in one bed..... UGH. all curled up together, hugging, under a blanket... it kind of sucks cuz Euros isn't made from the softest fucking material ever, but oh for the comfort of Finally getting to properly cuddle up with her lover Sparrows will weather it gladly

AND THEN ONE DAY WHEN HE WILL KNOW HOW TO STAND AND WALK AND SUCH SHE WILL GET TO DANCE WITH HIM IN THE KITCHEN HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH oh ňo i'm gon cry

[aquadestinyswriting]

Titan Modern AU- Chapter Two

Summary: Meredith takes guard duty as seriously as she does everything else in this job. While giving a warning to an ill-informed youth, Meredith witnesses the shooting of a Torejar police officer. Her Field Medic training kicks in and she rushes over to assist.

Words: 1,712

Tags: @druidx, @sparrow-orion-writes @warriorbookworm, @thesorcerersapprentice, @blind-the-winds, @philosophika, @the-down-upside-finch, @hippiewrites

Warnings: shooting, blood, guns, violence, gunshot wounds, If I've missed anything please let me know.

Notes: This was a much tougher chapter to write than expected. There's a lot going on, but I've tried to keep everything as consistent as I possibly can. Also, yes, Meredith is using military time, as she rightly would.

Meredith steadfastly ignored the children that were doing everything in their power to try and make her move or speak,

“C’mon Larry, we’re gonna get in trouble.” one of them, a young pre-teen with blonde hair said, just as his companion took another step towards the woman. The taller of the two snorted disdainfully,

“Quit being such a wuss. It’s not like they can actually do anything!” he retorted. Meredith kept her eyes straight ahead, but was making a note of just how close the teenager was getting to her out of the corner of her eye. The teen stepped forward another two paces until he was standing directly next to Meredith, who still didn’t move. At least not until the kid reached out to try and grab her Shanter off her head. She quickly reached out, grabbed his wrist then quickly pushed him against the wall, twisting his hand behind his back,

“Bad move, kid. Lookin’ is fine, touching is a nono.” she stated. She glanced back to see what the blonde-haired kid was doing. He was standing rooted to the spot, face drained of colour. Meredith nodded to him then returned her attention to the teenager that was now struggling against her grip,

“Oi, geroff!” he complained, “So I reached out to touch you, that ain’t illegal!” he protested. Meredith shook her head,

“Actually, son, I think ye’ll find that it is.” she retorted, “Under Fangthane law, it’s illegal to harass an officer of the Stronghold Guardian Corps while they are on duty. Touching any part of the uniform counts, as does blocking their line of sight. I was just bein’ nice earlier.” she told him. The teenager snorted,

“Yeah, well we ain’t in Fangthane are we? This is Toreguarde and this is assault!” he cried. Meredith snorted,

“The Consulate counts as bein’ on Fangthane soil, pal. Now, I’ve every right to read you your rights and arrest you, but I’m feeling generous. I’m happy to let ye go with a warning, provided you don’t do it again.” 

Meredith didn’t get to hear the youth’s reply as a lanky Fangthanian man wearing a rumpled suit rushed past, quickly followed by two Torejar people wearing what seemed to be leather duster jackets atop dark blue uniforms. Probably members of the Toreguarde police force then. The Fangthanian pulled out a gun just as he was about to round a corner, aiming for the woman. Right as he pulled the trigger, the tall, lanky man shoved his partner to the side. Two shots rang out, causing every civvy in the area to scream and run for cover. The man took both shots, one in his shoulder, the other in his leg, and fell to the floor. 

Meredith immediately let go of the youth she had been warning and ran over to the prone officer, right as the other woman picked herself up. A crowd immediately began to form around the group as Meredith pulled the male officer’s coat open to have a look at his shoulder, then glanced down at his leg. Both were bleeding far more than she would have liked. She sucked in a breath through her teeth and looked up at the people milling around her. She pointed to one of them,

“You, call an ambulance!” she snapped, then pointed to another, “You, go in the front door of the Consulate. There’s a first aid kit on the wall on your immediate left. Grab it and bring it back here!” When neither person moved, Meredith growled, “Move it!” she snarled, already moving to place as much pressure on at least one of wounds the man had sustained as possible. 

The two unwitting volunteers nodded, one pulling out a mobile phone, the other dashing off towards the Consulate. Meredith grimaced, realising she didn’t have enough hands to stop the man on the floor in front of her from bleeding out since she couldn’t reach his leg from her current position. She looked up again, noticing that the female officer was hovering uncertainly nearby, her face pale and hand hovering over the holster of her pistol,

“Oi! I need another pair of hands here! You want this man to bleed out or not?” Meredith snapped irritably. 

The dark-skinned woman quickly shoon her head, as though coming out of a daze. She quickly knelt down next to her partner,

“Farren!” she yelped. She looked up at the other woman, “What do you need me to do?” she asked. Meredith gestured to the gunshot wound on the man’s leg,

“Put as much pressure on that as you can manage. With any luck I’ll be getting a hold of that damn first aid kit pretty soon, but I reckon that leg’s gonna need a tourniquet.” she replied. The officer nodded and placed her hands on her fellow officer’s leg. She winced at his hiss,

“Sorry, Farren.” she apologised. She looked over to the woman that was helping them, green eyes meeting blue,

“Thanks, I don’t know what I’d be doing if you weren’t on hand.” she said. Meredith shook her head, concentrating on the task at hand,

“Ye can thank me after we’ve got your pal here stabilised.” she replied. She looked up at the man with the mobile phone she’d directed to call for an ambulance, “How long?” she called. The businessman nodded, looked over to Meredith and placed his hand over the speaker,

“They’ll be here in two minutes.” he called back, quickly returning to the call. The woman that Meredith had told to get the first aid kit pushed through the crowd and handed the box to the Fangthanian woman,

“Here, is he going to be alright?” she asked. Meredith glanced up at her taking the box with one hand and opening it with practised ease,

“Hopefully.” she muttered. She pulled out a pack of gauze and a roll of bandages and quickly began patching the officer’s shoulder up. It wasn’t her best work, but it would have to do. She looked up at the crowd of people again, glancing briefly at the leg, which was still bleeding profusely through his partner’s hands,

“Anyone got a belt they can live withoot?” she called, her accent slipping with her rising anxiety as she felt the man’s breath begin to falter. Another businessman stepped forward, quickly unbuckling and unthreading the belt at his waist,

“I need a new one anyway.” he said, handing the item over. Meredith nodded, taking it. She shifted a little,

“Reckon you can keep some pressure on that shoulder for me while I try to tie this leg off?” she asked. The man nodded and quickly placed his hands on the bandage as Meredith took her hands away. Satisfied that the shoulder was taken care of Meredith shuffled next to the female officer,

“‘Scuse me.” she murmured, trying not to shove the other woman away too much as she manoeuvered into a position that would allow her to tie the belt around her patient’s thigh. The Torejar officer stared at Meredith as she worked. She opened her mouth to say something, but the sound of approaching sirens caused her to look in the direction they were coming from instead. 

The paramedics were quick to take stock of the situation and thanked Meredith for her quick thinking and resourcefulness as they loaded the male officer onto a stretcher. Meredith groaned and dusted off her hands as she pulled herself up again. She looked over to the female officer, who was hovering nearby. She was pale and sweaty and half in shock, Meredith noticed.

“You gonna be alright?” she asked. The Torejar woman nodded, wiping her bloodied hands on the towel one of the paramedics had handed her,

“I will be.” she said. She looked up at Meredith and held out a hand, “Thank you. You’ve saved the life of a good detective.” Meredith shrugged and shook the offered hand,

“I was only doing my duty.” she replied, “Part and parcel of being part of the SGC, Miss..” she trailed off, eyeing the officer expectantly. The Torejar woman coughed im embarassment,

“Oh, yes, sorry. There wasn’t time for introductions earlier. Detective Elowyn O’Toreguarde, Toreguarge Investigative Branch.” she replied, “The man whose life you just saved is Detective Farren Breakwood, my partner.” 

Meredith nodded and snapped off a quick salute,

“Constable Meredith Gruksdottir, Clan Ironforge, of the Fangthane Stronghold Guardian Corps.” she replied. She smirked a little at the slightly confused look that Detective O’Toreguarde was giving her.

“Gruks… dottir?” the detective murmured. The Torejar quickly shook her head and smiled, “Well, it was a pleasure to meet you Constable, but I’d best go with my partner and make sure he’s not going to do something stupid when he wakes up. I’ll probably be by in a day or two to get a witness statement, if that’s alright?” she asked. Meredith nodded,

“Of course, Detective. I’m typically on guard duty between the hours of 09:00 and 17:30, with a lunch break from 13:00 to 14:00 hours.” she replied, “You’d be best getting the statement either during my lunch hour or after I clock off for the evening, as I’m not permitted to speak unless necessary during guard duty.”

Elowyn quirked an eyebrow at the reply and nodded again, scribbling a note into her pocketbook,

“Duly noted.” she muttered, “Well, I guess I’ll let you get back to it then.” she said, quickly bowing her head slightly before dashing off into the back of the ambulance just before the doors were slammed shut and it drove off to the nearest hospital.

Meredith shrugged, looked back to the front entrance of the Consulate and sighed, noticing that the two boys from earlier were long gone. Well, as long as the older one heeded the warning Meredith had been giving him, then there wasn’t anything else for it but to get back to work. She tilted her wrist, checked the time and marched back to her position. She still had another two hours before she could clock off, and it wasn’t like there was anyone else to take over. Maybe she could get away with handwriting a report summary until she could get to a computer to type up a full one?

[wellactuallynark]

** Please be nice this is the first thing I’ve written in many years. On mobile so sorry for formatting.**

"Nicky." Lark exhales, lips brushing Nick's ear. A shiver rakes down his spine in response. He’s sitting on the ground, half slouched against a grimy wall. Hands grip at his shoulders. The muscles in his calves spasm against the blinding stabbing pain in his legs, further irritating them. A pained gasp forces its way out. Larks frown blurs in-front of him.

“Row, get over here now!” Lark yells over his shoulder before turning back. "Easy Nick. Breathe." Nick immediately tries to inhale, breath stuttering into his lungs. Not enough. He throws his head back in a desperate attempt of opening his airway but his throat constricts impossibly tighter. The back of his skull hits the brick behind him and for a moment he can think in a straight line.

Nick gasps, reaching for his throat while slamming his head back against the wall, once, twice, and on the third time he hits flesh. Vaguely he recognizes that a hand had filled the gap between his head and the wall. Nick grabs the collar of his own shirt and pulls. Maybe it would trick his body into thinking he could breathe.

Larks face comes back into his blurry vision, mouth moving without sound. Nick tried to focus on his lips frantically trying to understand what he was saying. He shakes his head in frustration, groans and meets Larks eyes. They were stern and steady, holding his attention. Just behind Lark, is a Sparrow shaped blob kneeling at his feet.

As he notices Sparrow, a sharp, twisting pain shot through his chest, down to his legs and back up again like the worlds shittiest pinball machine. Nick groans and pitches forward, hands falling from his collar to brace himself against the man in front of him.

A rush of air hits Nick as he is shifted around. The world tilts around him so he squeezes his eyes shut. Moments later a piece of plastic is forced between his blue tinged, gasping lips. "Mi Amour, breathe." Directs Lark, voice deeper, quieter than before. Involuntarily, Nick gasps for another breath, his inhaler sprays medicine into his throat. The mouthpiece is ripped from his mouth and is immediately replaced with a hand covering his mouth and nose. "Easy. Hold it. Relax" Instructs Lark in his ear. Larks hand stays smothering him for a few seconds until Nick pulls at his wrist.

Nick let's out a short exhale before gasping in air again, again, again. Lark shoves the inhaler in his mouth once more and decompresses it. This time, Nick can hold his breath for longer, silently begging his lungs to accept the medicine. Lark must decide he doesn't need smothered again, because his right hand remains gripping the inhaler, with the other pressed against Nicks chest right above his heart.

The pain in his legs ebbs out of existence, and with it goes the tightness in his chest. Only when Nick can think about things other than breathing does he notice they are on the ground. Nick sits between Larks legs, his back against his chest. Lark is rocking them slightly, humming an old lullaby, his grip on Nick never wavers. Nick leans he had back against Larks shoulder before muttering an apology about the sweat.

Sparrow clears his throat in the doorway, sleeves rolled up to his elbows. "I'm not a doctor, but I'm pretty sure that's not how you're supposed to use an inhaler in an emergency." Nick smiles weakly, collapsing even further into Lark. Lark flips Sparrow the bird who just chuckles at the two. “Maybe next time don’t jump out a second floor window without being prepared for impact, okay Nick?” Nick hums in agreement. He doesn’t have the energy to say that he hadn’t had a choice. He was too spent to open a portal to Hell and the acolyte was going right for him.

“Save it for the debrief, Sparrow.” Chides Lark, brushing Nicks hair back from where it was stuck to his forehead. “We’re gonna need a long rest after that fight.”

Sparrow nods his head in agreement. “I’m exhausted, I can’t help your asthma until I rest. Let me know if it’s still bothering you tomorrow. I’ll meet you guys in the conference room at 0800.” He walks out without waiting for a response.

[dumdumsun]

To Nightfall

A/N: One of my favorites ❤️

Warnings: violence, alcohol, death, mentions of violence, racism and death

Word Count: 4701

—————————————

Chapter 14: The Thing in the Basement

Beautiful might have been one word to describe the Kugelblitz. Its fiery orange and red swirled together in a bright ball that created a wind around it. The Hargreeves families slowly approached it behind Fei, all in a silence filled with both fear and awe.

“Oh, wow.” Diego whispered out. Lila scoffed from beside Fei.

“That’s what took Stanley.”

Fei nodded. “Along with a few other billion people.”

“Yeah, who I didn’t know and don’t care about.”

“Right. So, it’s all about you.”

Five rolled his eyes as he made his way around the Kugelblitz to inspect it. “All of us are irrelevant. This thing’s gonna take the whole damn universe. What is it made of?”

“Micro black holes collapsing at increasingly short intervals.” Sloane answered. 

“Then why aren’t we getting sucked inside?”

“Honestly, we don’t know. You shouldn’t exist here, and neither should this.”

“An impossibility for an impossibility.” He shook his head. “The universe is a sucker for balance.”

“Grace has been tracking the waves,” Fei informed. “Next one is due in three hours.”

Diego nodded from behind her. “Alright, so what do we do?”

“We trap it.” Sloane responded.

“Dyson sphere?” Five raised a brow.

“Yeah.” She nodded.

“Okay,” He clicked his tongue and stepped closer to her, crossing his arms over his chest. “Confinement factor?”

She cocked her head, surprised that he questioned her intelligence. “0.98 at peak energy flux.”

“Tensile strength?”

“UTS ceiling at ten thousand gigapascals.”

Lila grinned. “Should I be finding this hot?”

“No!” Diego and Luther exclaimed.

From where she was standing away from the group, against a wall with her arms crossed, Allison voiced herself. “What do you think, Five?”

He glanced at the Kugelblitz. “Could work. Or we could all die horribly.” He thought over what other choices they had, and ultimately he came up with nothing. So, he clicked his tongue again and shrugged. “I’m in.”

“You’re not the one we need.” Ben rudely said.

“Excuse you?” Allison furrowed her brows.

Before anything could get out of hand with Allison’s current attitude, Fei explained. “For this to work, we need Sloane, Lila, Christopher and-”

“Viktor.” She scoffed, pushing herself off the wall and beginning to head upstairs. “Of course.”

The younger (Y/N) watched her go, a sort of annoyance spiking in her. Allison was starting to get on her last nerve and she still had yet to truly talk to her since their argument at the hotel. It possibly was a bad idea going to speak with her, as it would most likely end in a screaming match, but no one but Viktor was talking sense into her. So, with a quiet word to Sparrow (Y/N) that she would return, she followed her sister upstairs. When she found Allison, she was standing at the bar, fishing a flask out of her pocket. When she noticed (Y/N) entering the room, she chuckled and rolled her eyes.

“Come to ask how I’m doing?” She turned to her with a smirk. (Y/N) shifted her jaw and shoved down her anger.

“Uh, no. Last time I did that, I was immediately snapped at.”

“Then why did you follow me?”

“Because you’re being a bitch right now and it’s starting to really piss me off.”

Allison raised her brows and quickly moved closer to her. “Oh, I’m being a bitch right now?!”

“Yeah, you are! And you clearly didn’t know because no one’s telling you, so I’m telling you. Is- Is this all you’re gonna do? Are you just gonna keep picking fights with everyone around you until you’ve got no one fighting alongside you? Because that’s what it looks like right now. I come over to you because I’m the only one to do it, a-and you fucking make me a villain.”

Eyes widening, Allison leaned down to look (Y/N) in the eye. “Because you are a villain. You don’t give shit about me. You don’t give a shit about anyone but yourself.”

“Oh, really?”

“Oh, really. Ever since Five came back from the future, it’s been all about you two. You’re always running after him on little side missions while the rest of us wonder where the hell you are, only for Five to make us feel like idiots for not knowing exactly what he’s up to. Like we aren’t doing shit to help fix a timeline that he brought us to. You two have got to be the most self-centered people I’ve ever met.”

(Y/N) pointed a finger at Allison as if to tell her to back off. “I better not ever hear you utter those words about Five ever again. He has done the most for this family. He went through decades of isolation to find a way to get back to us. He never gave up on us! He watched us die three times and saved all of us, knowing that you all would continue to be the most ungrateful pieces of shit-”

“Ungrateful! You’re one to talk.” Allison laughed, clapping her hands as she leaned back. “You wanna talk ungrateful? Let’s talk about you! I am always by your side. I stand beside you at your wedding, I show up to all of Michael and Jada’s birthdays, I hug you and I comfort you at Anthony’s funeral. I’m the only one who is there for you our whole lives, even after Five abandoned you-”

“Watch it-”

“And the second I get tired of it, you call me a bitch,” Her smile was wild as she shook her head. “Alright! Let’s tally all you’ve done for me. Where were you after Patrick divorced me?”

“At your side-”

“Where were you when I was fighting to get custody of Claire?”

“At your side-”

“Where were you when I found out Claire was gone?”

“Mourning my own kids-”

“When Viktor slit my throat?”

“Now wait a second.”

“When I was getting hate-crimed and beaten and humiliated on a daily basis-”

“I didn’t know where you were!!!” (Y/N) hollered, completely losing her temper at this point. “I thought you were gone! I thought you were dead! What was I supposed to do?! I waited for you in that alleyway! I was hate-crimed and beaten and humiliated! Stop acting like I didn’t go through a single thing in the sixties!”

Allison scoffed and crossed her arms, turning away from her sister. (Y/N) narrowed her eyes and tilted her head as she remembered something.

“Where were you when I was locked in that room, forced to look for Five? You all knew where I was. So, why didn’t you try to help me? Where were you when I was making imaginary friends in the dark because I had no one else to talk to? Where were you when I was beating my head into the cement walls just to make sure I was still real?! Where were you when Viktor was beating the shit out of me?! When he gave me these scars!”

“I stopped him!”

“Yeah, after I went unconscious!”

(Y/N) swallowed the lump in her throat. She’d be damned if Allison would see how much she was upsetting her. She would not cry in front of her. When she said she was tired of crying, she meant it. For years, she’s cried and cried for something that wasn’t coming back. She feared that Allison was one of them, that in this moment, she was losing her sister. Her best friend. But if finally making her feelings known and screaming at someone was what tore them apart, then so be it. (Y/N) was tired of biting her tongue.

With a deep breath, she leaned closer to Allison, a glint in her eye. “Don’t make an enemy out of me, Allison.” She quietly hissed. “You don’t want that.”

Allison scoffed with an eye roll. “And why not?”

“Because if I’m not in your corner, you won’t know where I’m coming from.”

And with that, (Y/N) spun around and walked out of the parlor, back down to the basement. Just as she reached the last step, Lila and Ben were heading upstairs, both with different agendas. She ignored them and went to stand beside Five, who worriedly looked at her.

“Hey.” He gently rubbed her shoulder. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” She quirked her brows. “Peachy.”

“You can talk to me, Starlight.” He lowered his voice. “You’re upset. What happened?”

(Y/N) took in a deep breath and slowly let it out. “Allison.”

“I see.”

“We got into this huge argument. Again. I-I don’t know, there’s only so much I can do with her. But it’s like no matter what I do or say, no matter how nice or how mean I am, it’s nothing to her.” She shut her eyes tight. “She’s hurting, Five. I’ve never seen her like this. She’s… destructive in more ways than one. I think she’s really gonna hurt one of us at some point. More than with me and more than with Viktor.”

Five exhaled through his nose and nodded in understanding. (Y/N) pecked his cheek with her lips before walking over to her Sparrow self, who was facing a wall, her forehead resting against it. Umbrella (Y/N) gently set a hand on her back, causing her to turn her head in her direction.

“Hey.” The Sparrow croaked out.

“What’s going on?”

“Just trying not to have a mental breakdown, is all.”

“Do you need anything? Is there something I can do-”

“No,” She shook her head with a twitching smile. “I’ll be alright.”

(Y/N) knew herself better than she knew herself, and she could tell when she was lying. Sparrow (Y/N) was doing the same thing she always did, shoving her feelings into her sternum for the benefit of everyone else. She was forcing back tears and telling herself to get over it, that she’ll be fine. But she knew better.

Everyone’s attention was brought to Viktor, who had made his way to the basement. After him, Five led Allison and Lila down. (Y/N) made sure to keep her eyes away from her sister as Sloane, Lila and Viktor surrounded the Kugelblitz and Christopher hovered above it.

“Okay, how do we start?” Viktor asked Sloane.

“Have you ever moved a nest of bees?”

“No, because that’s weird.” Lila raised a brow.

“You can’t just pick it up. You have to keep the nest calm while you build a box around it, and then you trap it.”

From above, Chris spoke. Sloane nodded before holding her arms out to the side and levitating. She activated her power and let it work on the Kugel. “One of those black holes inside is vibrating at a different rate.” Fei informed.

“I can feel them.” Viktor looked at her.

“Good. Whatever happens, don’t let them speed up or change, or everything will blow.”

“Don’t shake the bees. Got it.”

His blue light shone from his chest, summoning his own force field to surround the ball of fire, holding his hands out to keep it still. Fei turned to Lila. “Lila, when you’re ready, do exactly like Viktor.”

Lila nodded before mimicking his power, her blue light shining and her own force field summoning around his as she held her hands out as well.

“Hey,” Luther whispered to Ben as he looked up at Sloane. “What’s she doing?”

“Using its own gravity to condense it.”

“That’s pretty cool, huh?” He grinned. When Ben turned to him in disinterest, his smile fell.

From the stairs, a figure slowly made their way down towards the group.

“You didn’t tell me you were building a prison for god.”

“Mom?”

“You have no right to do that.”

Luther frowned at her. “We’re a little busy here, Grace.”

“The day of vengeance was in my heart…”

He slowly walked over to her along with Diego. “What are you talking about?”

“...and my year of redemption hath come.”

To everyone’s shock and horror, Grace aimed a flamethrower straight at them and set it off. Those who weren’t working on the Kugel jumped out of the way of the angry flames that threatened to catch them as Grace repeated the bible verse in a more distorted robotic voice.

“The day of vengeance was in my heart, and my year of redemption hath come.”

Sparrow (Y/N) yelped when she was almost hit, but Five tackled her to the ground before she could be set on fire. His eyes searched for his wife and he found her hidden behind a wall with Diego’s arms tightly wrapped around her for safety. When Grace turned the flamethrower solely on Luther, Diego jumped out of cover.

“Hey, Mom, Mom, Mom!” He called out. Grace turned off her weapon and aimed it at him. “It’s Diego. Don’t make us hurt you.”

Grace tilted her head, no sign of the sweet and caring mother she was to them before. “The day of vengeance was in my heart…” She fired her weapon at him, (Y/N) quickly pulling him away. “...and my year of redemption hath come!”

Diego patted out the flames that were on his arm. When Lila had heard his scream, she reverted her focus to him, weakening her hold on the force field. “Lila, I need you.” Sloane called out, forcing her to turn back around and continue her work.

Five’s eyes locked on Grace and as soon as she wasn’t aiming at him, he blinked behind her and grabbed hold of her. Before she could do anything, he blinked them to the entryway of the mansion. He placed one hand atop her head and the other one on her chin.

“Nothing personal.”

With a grunt, he snapped her neck until her head had turned in the opposite direction, her one-eyed gaze stuck on one place. Before she could fall to the ground, Five caught her and gently set her on the stairs, watching her in confliction as her robotic voice sang a hymn as her final words.

“Onward

Christian soldiers

Marching

As to war”

He shook his head as her eyes rolled back and she went limp. Downstairs, Sloane had successfully condensed the Kugelblitz into a much smaller size before looking up at her cubed brother. “Christopher, now!”

With a garbled response, he broke apart into several chunks, surrounding Lila and Viktor’s force fields. The three others strained as they kept their holds intact. Christopher circled the ball much like planets orbiting the sun before he reformed himself around it. The room went quiet aside from the other three panting as they let go of their powers. Sloane let her feet touch the floor and watched her brother carefully as Five blinked between her and his wife.

“Did it work?”

Sloane sighed out and grasped Luther’s hand. “Next Kugel wave in three…”

Everyone backed away.

“Two…”

Five protectively put an arm out in front of (Y/N).

“One.”

Christopher shook as they waited for something, anything. They all deflated when he let out a squeak of flatulence, followed by a garbled apology. The Hargreeves all looked around in relief that they had done it. They saved the world.

Within minutes, everyone returned to the parlor. They celebrated their victory by popping open their many bottles of champagne and dancing to music. It was the most alive the group had felt in days. These two families that had once hated each other, victoriously bonding as one in the home they all once suffered in.

(Y/N) let Fei fill her glass before going to her Sparrow self, who was grooving to the beat on her own. Grabbing her by the hand, she pulled her with the rest of the family and danced with her. Ben turned his sister around and started a dance battle with her, which she immediately caught onto. Her dance partner taken from her, Umbrella (Y/N) moved over to Lila, who had just rejected a drink from Fei. She took note of that as well before she grabbed her hand and spun her in a circle.

From the side, Viktor softly smiled at the lot of them, not engaging in the celebration. He looked to Allison, who was already looking at him. His smile fell as he ducked his head down, Allison pushing herself off the wall and walking out of the parlor, a bottle of champagne in her hand.

Viktor sighed in defeat and was just about to leave when (Y/N) wrapped her arms around his middle and dragged him with the family. Reluctantly, he gave in and danced with his sister. She cheered when she caught sight of Lila bringing a half-smiling Five onto the dance floor. Sometime during their little party, she found him dancing with Sparrow (Y/N), which warmed her heart. She just had to join them.

After everything they had been through, it felt nice for (Y/N) to just dance with her brothers, no matter how bad Luther and Diego’s moves were. For a second, they felt like a real family again. When the alcohol ran low and everyone’s energy drained, they all dispersed into different parts of the house. The (Y/N)s headed to her room to cool down, Five informing his wife that he was going to check on Viktor. The young girl watched her adult self lower herself onto her throne and exhale in content. She gently smiled at her, glad that she was at ease for once.

“I’ve been meaning to ask you,” She started. “How do you do the… duplicating thing?”

“Oh,” The Sparrow sat up and motioned her closer, picking up a pillow off her bed once the girl was sitting down. “I swear, it’s as easy as it looks. You just have to know you can do it. I didn’t know until I was maybe twenty. The key is focusing on the material. Watch how I duplicate this pillow.”

The young (Y/N) watched closely as the older one curled her fingers to grab at the pillow, only she didn’t. Her fingertips simply brushed over the material and just as she pulled her hand away, an exact copy of the pillow was pulled from the original. The same color, the same size, the same design.

“See?” She smiled. “Now you try.”

Umbrella (Y/N) reached her hand out and glided her fingers across the pillow, but when she curled her fingers and pulled her hand up, nothing happened. She frowned in confusion. “What? I-I don’t get it.”

“You have to act like you’re actually physically pulling a pillow from this pillow. It’s the same way I pull my clones from my shadow. Actually grab at the femtometers of nothing between you and the material. Don’t pull your hand up until your index finger and thumb have touched again. Okay? Try again.”

The girl did the same thing she did before, but as she was told, she curled her fingers until they touched before she slowly pulled her hand up, another copy of the pillow rising with it. Her eyes widened. “Oh, shit, that is so cool!”

“Isn’t it?” The Sparrow grinned. “You know how many things I duplicated once I mastered that?”

The two of them shared a laugh. When it died down and it was quiet once again, the Sparrow was staring down at her lap, any trace of happiness vanishing from her face. Umbrella (Y/N) hated to see her that way. She was much more lively when they first met, but ever since she was shot, she had never been the same.

“Hey.” She gently touched her knee. “What’s going on with you? You know, even though we met a few days ago, I know a lot about you. And I can tell that you’re hiding something. So, what is it?”

The woman inhaled deeply and softly closed her eyes. “Ever since that day at our mom’s… I’ve been feeling… detached.”

“Detached? From, like, your family?”

“From myself.”

“What do you mean?” The Umbrella frowned.

“Like, something in me doesn’t wanna listen to myself. Since I was a teenager, all I’ve ever done is what I’m told. And I’ve always hated it, always. But now…”

Umbrella (Y/N) watched herself become more jittery, picking at her skin and shaking her head.

“Now I don’t feel like I’m… I-I feel like I need someone to tell me what to do, like I can’t do so much as walk around unless someone tells me to do it. I- My body doesn’t feel like- Like it’s-”

“It’s okay,” The Umbrella gently took The Sparrow’s tear-stricken face in between her hands, her eyes meeting her watery ones. “It’s gonna be okay, (Y/N). I’m gonna help you, okay?”

“Okay.” She blubbered.

“We’re gonna figure this out. Say it. Say we’re gonna figure this out.”

“We’re gonna figure this out…”

The two embraced each other, the older of them sniffling as she tried to compose herself. On the floor below, Five knocked on the door of Reginald’s room before opening it, spotting Viktor sitting alone on the sofa.

“Hey, want some company?”

“Sure.”

Five nodded and closed the door, making his way over to Reginald’s desk to retrieve his cigars. “That was really nice of you,” Viktor said. “Kill Mom so Diego didn’t have to.”

He paused. “My god. We are a weird family, aren’t we?”

Viktor hummed as Five walked over to a chair beside the sofa, taking a seat. “Sorry. Yeah, I heard it as I said it.”

“It’s alright.” He lightly chuckled, setting the box on the table and picking out one of the cigars.

“What are we gonna do about Allison?” Viktor asked as he sat up.

“We’re all worried about Allison, but… I’m scared for you.”

“Seriously?”

Five sat back and looked at his brother like his mind was made up. “Yeah.”

“She killed someone. I was just trying to do the right thing and save Harlan’s life.”

“Do you know why I wanted this last jump to work so badly?”

“Because you’re old and tired?”

“Because I slaughtered a boardroom full of people to buy our way back here.”

Viktor stared at him in shock, but Five saw the underlying expression that he was afraid for any of his siblings to look at him with had they found out. Fear. “Shit…”

Five looked away for a second before sitting up straight. “Little advice from someone who’s been there? Don’t do the math. That equation does not exist. There’s no ‘save five Harlans for every two Claires’ formula. People like us, we will never… save enough lives to make up for the ones that we take.”

“I don’t accept that.”

“Then you’ll drown. This is the price of being powerful. Sometimes we step on ants. And the sooner you face that, the safer we’ll all be.”

Viktor narrowed his eyes in suspicion. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“It means you’re very dangerous, Viktor Hargreeves. The decisions you make impact the entire world. So, no matter how benevolent they may seem, you don’t get to make them alone.”

A brief silence passed by with Viktor staring down at his feet and Five watching him before the latter continued. “You know what they call a superhero who works alone and doesn’t listen to anybody? A villain.”

Viktor slowly looked up at him. “I am not a villain, Five.”

“And Viktor, I hope to god you never will be. But that remains to be seen.”

Five stood from the chair and set the cigar down, no longer in the mood to smoke. He looked down at his brother with a softer expression as he stuffed his hands into his pockets. “No more going rogue. If you ever need anything, I’m always here for you.”

Then his face hardened. “But lie to us again… Viktor, I’ll kill you myself.”

In the parlor, Ben and Fei were having a drink as Christopher floated above them, winding down after their party. Ben reached over to pour his sister a glass of champagne. “I’m glad we made peace. It all worked out.”

“Yeah,” Fei sat back in her chair. “But we’re definitely killing them in the morning, right?”

Christopher garbled something to her.

“And Chris has dibs on knife boy.”

“No one is killing anyone.” Ben quietly said. Fei frowned.

“Why not? We followed your plan, merged the families, saved the world. We don’t need them anymore.”

“I’m not done yet.”

“Done what?”

He smirked after taking a sip of his drink. “That’s between me and Dad.”

She slowly sat forward. “You made a deal with Dad?”

“Maybe.”

Fei went quiet for a second in thought before standing up. “Fine. I’m done.”

“Sit down.”

“No. We don’t recognize your authority anymore. (Y/N) was right, you’re a terrible leader with no loyalty to anyone but yourself.”

Ben looked absolutely offended at that, in shock that his sister would say such a thing about him. “She said that?”

“To my face.”

“Well, you don’t speak for Christopher.”

Their cubed brother turned to Ben and garbled something out, causing him to shoot up out of his chair and for Fei to snicker. “Really, dude?! I’m Number One. You’ll do as I say when I say it.”

“Not anymore,” She whispered before turning to Chris. “Here’s to a new life without this dickhead.”

Chris responded to her before she clinked her glass against one of his corners. The clinking resonated throughout the room, but neither paid attention as she downed the rest of her drink. Suddenly, Christopher began to shake as the light within him peeked through his newly-formed cracks.

“Christopher, what’s wrong?” Fei asked as he continued cracking.

“Back away, Fei.” Ben put an arm out, but she only held a hand up to her brother in distress.

“Chris, it’s going to be okay.”

“Fei!”

“I’m going to help you. Just-”

Her words were cut short when the Kugelblitz within Chris broke loose, sending him to his demise and consuming Fei just as it did its other victims. Ben crashed to the ground before the ball of fire could get to him, unconscious. A blast of a wave burst from it, destroying everything outside the Academy at a much quicker rate than it had before, alerting everyone within the house.

The (Y/N)s jumped up at the rumbling of the house. “Oh, shit.” The Umbrella whispered. “It’s happening.”

“We gotta get out of here!” The Sparrow cried out, watching in agony as the ceiling caved in and blocked her door. Her antiques were no doubt destroyed. “Quick! The window!”

Umbrella (Y/N) ran over to the window and opened it, bolting down the fire escape as she pulled her double with her. Unfortunately, the stairs were also impacted in the blast and the weight of them and their footsteps caused it to creak and fall apart. The two screamed as they fell through the air, smacking into the alley below.

“Fuck…” The Umbrella coughed as she held her side in pain. “(Y/N)? A-Are you okay?”

“Y-Yeah, I’m fine.” The Sparrow wheezed.

“(Y/N)?! (Y/N), where are you?!” She heard a familiar voice. The girl quickly stood and helped her double up before they ran out onto the sidewalk, where everyone else was hurrying away from the crumbling house. Five, who was holding an unconscious Ben, could’ve cried at the sight of his wife. “(Y/N)!”

“Five!” She ran over to him, engulfing him in a hug. The two shared a short kiss before he wrapped an arm tightly around her waist. “We need to go!”

Five nodded and looked around, the scene very familiar to him. This wasn’t the first time he and his family would have to escape after their house went into shambles. “Hey! Everyone! Regroup at the hotel!” He called before adjusting the two people in his arms and blinking away.

“(Y/N)!” Sloane called to her sister, running up to her and grabbing her hand. “Come on! Come on, let’s go!”

With one last look at the only home she had ever known, (Y/N) let her sister pull her away from the fiery orb looming over them.

—————————————

Taglist: @natewrightt @sapphicsyn @m00n-sh @starcurrent @alexander-hamilhoe @youcandalekmyballs @wonderlandfandomkingdom @yrdadjstcallsmekatya @sm0kingcrack @sbyderman @moatsnow @bubblegumflamingos @starstormssymphony @meowiemari @magicalgothpandamaker @keayastitties @hehehehannahthings @harryshomeismyhome @rhain3 @deigobonitooo @xxeiraxx @camerondiaz48104 @theyaremorethanjustfictional @that-can-of-fizz @luckyzipperscissorsbat @0range-slices @molzsecretspace @officialjypofc @dragon-master-kai @justsomecreaturewandering @fandomxo00 @roman0ffsheart @idktbhloley @wifeofcamillamacaulay @twsssmlmaa @teamspideyman @instabull @distinguishedmakerpandapatrol

[lady-grace-pens]

Seven Snippets, Seven People

Tagged by @isabellebissonrouthier !! Thank you bestie <33

All of these are from my current wip FOD, narrated in Emily’s pov.

Tagging for funsies: @owilder @wildswrites @sparrow-orion-writes @macabremoons @wordwizards @pen-of-roses @alinacapellabooks and anyone else who sees this!!

•••

“And what about this?”

My tongue slips onto the open air. In the center of it rests a short gold barbell piercing with a top fashioned to resemble a rose. Without pause, his attention is stolen from my scars. Alarm fades into contemplative interest. He cups my head in his hands, posing me this way and that to savor all angles possible.

“You like?” I tease once he lets go. “It came free with the trauma.”

•••

Before I can think to stand, Cal chains herself to my wrist. The weight of her grip speaks miles for the heat of her gaze. But if I know anything about my sister, it’s that she never holds her anger for very long. It doesn’t quite fit in her hands.

Her voice is lower than a whisper. “You look…”

“Like hell,” Ilya finishes.

“Thank you.” I take out a cigarette from my back pocket. “Anyone got a light?”

•••

Some feet away and still in his chair, Pierre’s head is cradled between his arms. His notebook is open underneath, and his laptop has gone black.

“You’ve been mighty quiet over there, jester.”

He only sighs.

•••

I don’t have to do this. I don’t have to.

I bite my tongue at the sobs surging up my throat. This mask weighs heavy on my face. Tears and feathers make a mess of my vision. I glare through it all, jaded queen on her fucking throne, and face the man sitting next to Pierre.

He wears no costume. No mask. Only a gothic suit with a red carnation pinned to his lapel. His features are a blur as he turns to the other woman attached to his hip. She pokes his chest. He lends her his ear. She wants far more, stealing a kiss from his cheek. My heart falls silent.

She averts her gaze. He catches her chin. Eye contact. Eye contact.

Eyes.

•••

Ilya’s eyes haven’t left me all night. Every breath, every act is tied to his red eyes peering at me through the guise of his cards. I shut my eyes and he’s there across the table, domineering silhouette streaked by a neon sign to his back while the ongoing storm rattles the windowpanes.

Whiskey cries where I left it and hour ago: scantily held and straight from the bottle. I toss what remains over my shoulder with a sigh.

•••

Suppress something long enough and it becomes a religion.

“The act or the suppressant?” Arthur asks in my mind.

I can’t answer.

•••

“Finally got tired of wearing that mask haven’t you?”

My head snaps to the direction of the entrance. Upon seeing who it is, my face falls flat.

“I was wondering when it would slip,” he finishes when there’s only a foot separating us.

I spare him a glance. “What mask?”

He huffs in his side-mouthed grin. Shoving his hands into his coat pockets, he joins me in leaning against the wall.

“You know, little miss angel face. All bloody lips and kerosene doused in cherry and vanilla perfume. That whole getup. I was wonderin’ when you’d get tired.”

[kaseyskat]

kiss prompt for lovesong #4

(#4: a kiss where it hurts)

~

Being the only healers on the team meant that sometimes, both of them ignore their own injuries in favor of helping the others.

Nick is pretty good at not getting hit. He might be a bard now, but unlocking his demon heritage meant he was really, really good at avoiding and dodging in ways that he was already familiar with, his reflexes somehow enhanced. It gives him the space to help his friends- especially Grant, who always took the heaviest hits.

Sparrow, on the other hand, was very good at hiding superficial injuries taken in the heat of battle. Usually, this is because he's very focused on keeping his danger-addicted brother out of trouble, often holding himself back for reasons Nick cannot fathom; he's seen what Sparrow can do when he's really trying!

This is how their little routine starts: after a battle, when Terry has locked himself away studying the battle in depth and Grant and Lark are off doing... whatever they do to unwind after a fight, Nick makes a habit of cornering Sparrow to ensure that he's actually taken care of himself.

Like now. They're exhausted, all of them, but Nick still drags himself to the room that Sparrow's claimed as his own in the underground headquarters, closing the door behind him. Sparrow, to his credit, merely looks up with a sheepish smile, already with the bandages pulled out and one of his hands all busted from a spell gone wrong. How the others didn't notice, Nick has no idea, but he stares pointedly and Sparrow just coughs awkwardly.

"You don't have to waste a spell slot on me," he says dryly as Nick steps forwards, magic already tingling on his fingertips. "This is nothing."

"Don't give me that, you need your hands." Nick holds out his hands, and reluctantly, Sparrow places the injured one directly into them, allowing Nick to cast cure wounds with both of his hands clasped around the one.

In the dim lights of the office, Sparrow's eyes are hooded, hidden behind his glasses, and his hair is tied back from the battle still, and he shivers as the magic washes over him, and his clothes are speckled with blood, and he's still the prettiest person Nick has ever seen.

"See, much better," Nick whispers as the spell ends, leaving only the smallest bruises and scrapes where Sparrow's knuckles were once bleeding. "Want me to kiss it better too?"

"Well, if you're offering," Sparrow looks up at him with that mischievous smile of his, the one that never fails to drive Nick wild.

So, slowly, Nick brings Sparrow's hand to his lips, trails them against the bruised knuckles. Through it all, he watches the way Sparrow's cheeks flush into a deep crimson, one that only brings out the green of his eyes. Cute.

"Are you hurt anywhere else?" he asks softly, Sparrow's hand still at his lips, his breath ghosting along his skin. Sparrow shivers.

"Actually, yeah, I think I got hurt right..." Sparrow brings his free hand to his mouth, his thumb brushing against his own lips. "...here."

He's lucky he's cute. Nick snorts, and he drops Sparrow's hand in favor of pulling him close, hesitating for a moment just to savor the way Sparrow leans into him- and, damn it, he's getting taller, they're nearly the same height now when once Nick towered over him, it's totally unfair.

"Guess I better kiss it better here too," he drawls, and Sparrow merely tilts his head in silent permission, eyes sparkling.

So, with another snort, Nick gives in and kisses him. Sparrow's hands come up to card through his hair, claw at his back, and it's all Nick can do not to shove him against the wall for the thrill of kissing him stupid.

What a nice tradition. Nick hopes this will last forever.

[allysdelta]

A pair of OCs I've made for a Good Omens RP group, loosely based on WoW toons that I hauled out of hibernation. Shariv (demon) and Iormiel (angel) work out of Los Angeles, and have something of a belligerent sibling relationship.

--

Echo Park Lake in Los Angeles, August 2008

“So, Hell’s finally done it, then?” Iormiel smoothed down the front of her skirt one-handed as the wind kicked up and stirred the palm trees above. In the semidesert heat, the wind brought only scant relief, but she took no notice of the relentless sunlight blanketing the city.

“Yeah.” Shariv leaned against the boathouse wall, her eyebrows pushed together in the same grimace she’d been wearing since she arrived. “Handed it off to the London agent last night. Poor bastard, I don’t envy him one bit. You gonna finish that?”

Caught off guard, Iormiel squinted at her, then at the half-eaten sandwich in her other hand, and handed it over. “They’re entrusting the Antichrist to the Serpent of Eden?”

“Crowley, yeah,” Shariv said around a mouthful of egg salad and arugula on brioche. “Got a mind like a steel trap, that one, but I guess that wasn’t enough to help him slither out. Now it’s gonna get Biblical.” She sighed and stared up at the cloudless California sky. “Or it will in a few years, anyway. I’m gonna miss this.”

“The peacetime?” said Iormiel. With a wide swing of the arm holding the sandwich, Shariv gestured at the park surrounding them and the concrete-rimmed lake that took up most of it. A nearby pair of Canada geese stared at her warily.

“This city. This lake. The fountains. The swan boats. The – the lotuses.”

“The lotuses died off.”

“You know what I mean!” Shoving herself away from the grimy wall, Shariv crumpled up the empty wrapper and let it fall from her fingers. Iormiel glared at her and gestured briskly, and a sudden breeze carried the wrapper neatly into the nearby trash can. “I was beginning to really like it here. Earth’s got character, you know? Spice. You know it does, Iormi. Even you can’t spin-doctor that one.”

“I do admit,” said Iormiel carefully, “that it’s far more interesting than Heaven ever was. But there’s nothing we can do about it. Assuming that you were somehow implying that someone ought to stop it,” she added pointedly. “Which I’m certain you weren’t.” She sighed and turned toward the concrete path that bordered the lake.

“If there is a way, I sure don’t know what,” Shariv said morosely, beginning to follow but distancing herself by a few paces. They walked in silence for a while, while pigeons fluttered and fussed around their feet and sparrows darted through the stifling August air. Halfway to the bridge, Shariv spoke up again. “You think we’ll have to fight each other? When Armageddon is here?”

“Possibly.” Iormiel’s shoulders tensed, then drooped. “I don’t like to think of it, but I suppose it could happen. We can’t go against head office, after all. And they’re going to be mad enough that I haven’t been keeping up my skills. I’m not even sure I remember how to hold a spear anymore, let alone use it.”

“I’d really hate to have to fight you,” Shariv said softly. “I know we did in the past, but that was for show, and we let each other escape each time. But to have to fight you for real…” She trailed off uncomfortably, coming to a stop in the middle of the path. “I liked being an angel, you know? Before I fell.”

“I know,” Iormiel murmured. The sunlight glittered on the lake’s waters and lit her dark hair with a golden shine. “I know.”

[e-rinnie]

"Kyomu-sama is mine." Luca hisses at the tall red avian, paws crossed against her chest. "I'll make sure of it!"

"How could you do this to me, Luca?" G-Penguin shoves a finger to the shorter girl's chest. "You knew that I had feelings for Kyomu-san...Yet you decided to do this to me!? How could you!?"

"Kyomu-sama already rejected you a hundred times! Yet you remain so persistent...you lost your chance long ago, G-Pen."

"Guys, please." Kotatsu pleads from a few feet "This isn't right! This is not how we should settle things, please."

"There's no convincing them, Kotatsu. They're stubborn."

"Jyako-sama!"

"You two stay out of this!" The penguin curses. The tanuki steps back, retreating to the bird leaning against the wall.

G-Pen turns back to the cat, glaring into her purple eyes.

"This is between you and me."

(🔪)

"Chungami flew by with some news today, have you heard of it?"

They breathe out, a heavy yet audible sigh heard even through the solid mask hiding their empty expression. The sound of footsteps pass through their ears, graceful and clean as ever. Kyomu was all too familiar with the sound of paws hitting the ground.

From the corner of their vision they can see her approach, long gray hair flowing in the wind. The gentle breeze touching the tip of her short fluffy ears.

"Suzume,"

The ferret calls from below, her gaze sharp on their avoidant eyes. The mask they wore protecting their...acquaintance, from suffering the effects of what lay beneath.

"What's this about the newbies fighting for your hand?"

Raising sharp talons, the sparrow continues staring blankly into the open sky. Their hands move, signing;

'I do not concern myself with the delusions of others. It is none of my business.'

Kyomu pauses for a second, before signing again.

'I would like to keep it that way, Hiyamaru.'

"Don't shoot the messenger." The ferret chuckles, voice light and playful. Kyomu's gaze falls onto the tall girl, her long tail swinging behind her as she approaches. "Is this why you've been hiding in the trees more often?"

She sits herself down, underneath where they sat. Below the branch and against the bark of some tree Kyomu had decided to perch upon. The sparrow sighs once more, fluttering down and taking the empty space next to the ferret.

'They are bothersome' The sparrow signs, 'I was living peacefully.'

"All started cause of that penguin." Hiyamaru says, a cheery undertone to her words, "Haven't you already rejected him several times? Can't a guy take a hint."

'I've made it clear to him; My loyalty is with my creator only. Even if it wasn't...I do not have the capacity to return such feelings to him. And neither to his feline friend.'

"They sure have a type."

Kyomu's head whips to face the ferret, who raises her arms up defensively. A soft laugh slipping through her lips.

"Don't be mad! I'm just curious is all..."

'Of what? What more is there than some bothersome creatures who are to deep in their delusions to function civilly.'

"I know that, Kyomu-chan." Hiyamaru's expression softens, a curious glint in her eyes, "It's just...Me and Nekoyama have been talking and..."

'Hiyamaru, I swear.'

"Do you really harbor no feelings for any of them? We're not trying to accuse you of anything, Kyomu-chan. But you aren't exactly making things subtle..."

'Excuse me?'

"Now don't go preening your feathers at me! It's just...well." The ferret nervously pulls at her collar, "Is there a chance that you may be...enjoying the atten- Hey!"

The sparrow stands up suddenly, dropping their hands and hiding them with long sleeves. Without a sound or a sign, the bird begins to walk away. Hiyamaru pulls herself up, both confused but amused by the sparrow's reaction.

"Kyomu! Hey!"

She kicks herself into a run one she sees the sparrow's wings begin to flap.

"Kyomu-chan!"

[depressedhatakekakashi]

Once Upon A Badge

Words: 1,540

Pokemon AU- Badge

Characters: Minato and Naruto

Note: Please be kind on this one. I do not make a habit of writing for Minato and I tried really hard to find his voice for this fic.

@alumort

Bedtime was coming up and Naruto was still jumping all around his room demanding another story. No offers of relaxing nighttime music or some cuddles from his beautiful mother would do anything to satisfy him, which was surprising given Minato had never heard his son express any interest in stories before.

Quite the contrary, actually. Naruto usually hated sitting down quietly to listen to someone else speak. He preferred to be active making stuff, playing with his friends, or chatting Minato and Kushina’s ears off about all the things he would do when he was old enough to be a Pokemon trainer. 

“Please,” Naruto sat on his knees staring up at Minato with big round eyes. “One story.”

“I just read you two stories,” Minato sighed. “And when I’m done this one you’re going to ask for another.”

Naruto shook his head, his short blond hair dancing with the movement. “No, I won’t!”

Minato didn’t dare believe his son’s words for a second.

“This is Kakashi’s fault, isn’t it?” He should have known better. Asking his old student to take care of his son for a few hours seemed like a good idea. Kakashi was responsible, organized, and most importantly cool-headed. In all the years he’d known the man Minato had never seen him lose his cool.

The only downside, apparently, was books. 

“You can use voices!” Naruto cheered. “Like Kakashi Nii-san!”

“Ah Ha!” With one happy little cheer, his son had confirmed his suspicions. “So this newfound love of stories is Kakashi’s fault.”

“Well…” settling back onto his knees, Naruto lowered his eyes toward the ground. “He did read me a few stories.”

“How many is a few?”

“Fifteen,” Slapping a hand over his face, Minato groaned. Patience was something he had mastered a long time ago, but it took a special person to convince his energetic, off-the-wall, child to sit down for fifteen different stories. That was a task he didn’t think he could ever accomplish. “Just one more Daddy, please.”

Glancing toward the small selection of books they had, Minato grinned when an idea came to him. “How about instead of one of those, I tell you a special story.”

Naruto sat up a bit straighter and leaned forward.. “A special story?”

“A story about a Pokemon trainer getting their first badge,” his son’s eyes lit up. “With only his Pidgeotto and a sparrow at his side.” “Did they get it?”

“Ah,” he pointed to the bed, grinning as Naruto looked down. “You need to be lying down if you want to hear it.”

Doing as he was told, Naruto fell back into his bed with a dramatic groan and yanked his blanket over him. “Tell me now?”

“And where is Kurema?” a look of panic crossed over Naruto’s face, but before he could get up and frantically start looking for his plush Ninetails Minato bent down and picked the prized stuff up off of the ground where it had fallen the last time his son jumped out of bed. “So dirty. You really should take better care of your stuffy,” He took a second to wipe some of the dust off of the stuffy and chuckled when Naruto extended his arms out to him and made a grabbing motion. “Alright, alright,” one more wipe of his hand against the stuffy’s nose and he finally offered it up to his son and watched as it was immediately snatched out of his grasp.

“Kurema!” Naruto fell back into bed once again, this time shoving the bottom half of his face into the soft plush fur and staring up at his dad expectantly. 

“Now,” settling into his spot, Minato thought back to the time he was thinking of. “Once upon a time there was a boy named Minato-”

“Spearow!” Minato rushed forward, his eyes locked on his Pokemon as it fell toward the ground after taking a direct hit from the Gym Leader’s Polywrath. With too much distance left between him and his spearow, and the floor closing in on the unconscious Pokemon fast, Minato dove.

His arms stretched out in front of him and as his body slammed against the ground, sliding forward, he let out a pained groan. Then, with a bit of luck on his side, spearow’s tiny body crashed against his forearms.

“Spearow,” he scrambled to his feet while cradling the Pokemon in his arms. “Spearow, come on. Please be alright.”

“That was gutsy,” the leader, Jiraiya, laughed as Minato clutched his Pokemon close to his chest. “Not many trainers out there who would do that for their Pokemon. I like it.”

Hugging Spearow, Minato fought back tears as he stared down at it. No matter how much he called out the Pokemon didn’t respond, and although he could see that it was still breathing that little bit of knowledge did nothing to ease his worries. 

“You going to call it quits?” Jiraiya called out to him. “It’s alright if you do. A lot of kids get upset the first time they see their Pokemon faint.”

Faint.

Minato had seen lots of Pokemon faint before, but never his own. He’d always been one step ahead of the trainers. He’d known just when to recall his Pokemon, and what moves to use to help them win their battle.

Until this moment, he’d never understood why so many trainers got upset when their Pokemon fainted, but now he got it. Now he could feel that worry twisting up inside of his stomach when Spearow didn’t try to nip at his fingers or call out to him.

“I-” he took a step back, prepared to turn around and run. Ready to get Spearow to the Pokemon center right away so that he could make sure he was alright. Then, just before he made that choice and officially forfeited his match, he stopped. “Spearow, I’m- I’m sorry.” Reaching to his side, he grabbed Spearow’s Pokeball off of his belt and raised it. “You did really well. Take a rest now and I’ll get you to the Pokemon center right away, I promise.”

Clicking the button at the front of the Pokeball, he watched as it sprang open and Spearow’s body began glowing a light blew before disappearing into the Pokeball. 

With Spearow safely tucked away, he turned his attention back to his opponent.

Before his match, he’d heard from everyone that a Gym battle was different from regular Pokemon battles. Friends, family, and even strangers had warned him of the difficulties he would face in trying to secure his first Gym badge, and he’d ignored them. 

He’d allowed himself to believe that this battle would be just like all of the other ones. Dared to imagine himself walking in, sweeping the Gym leader’s team without any difficulties, and walking out with a pretty new badge to show off his skill.

“I’m not giving up,” he insisted as he returned Spearow’s Pokeball to his belt and snatched the next Pokeball off. “I’m going to win!”

The Gym leader stared at him for a second, his long silver hair dangling in front of his face as he examined Minato. Then, without any warning, he threw his head back and laughed. 

“You really are something,” he admitted. “Well, you do have one Pokemon left, and so do I. So,” waving a hand toward the battlefield, he grinned as his Polywrath slapped its hands together. “Show me what you’ve got.”

Naruto sat on the edge of his bed. His blanket had been discarded off to the side and Kurema the stuffed ninetails was clutched hard against his chest while he stared up at his dad with such excitement that Minato was sure he was about to explode.

“And then?”

“And then,” Minato leaned over and grabbed hold of the blanket while gently guiding Naruto back into bed with his other hand. “The excited little boy went to sleep and got to hear the rest of the story in the morning.”

“But-”

“No buts,” Minato insisted. “It’s time for bed.”

“But who won!? Did you and Pidgeotte beat the gym leader? Did you have to go back and face him again? I need to know!”

Listening to his son’s questions, Minato couldn’t help but laugh. “I will answer anything you want to ask when you wake up,” he promised. “But it’s not fun if I just tell you how the story ends right now, is it?”

Naruto’s eyes narrowed into an angry little look. An expression that Minato was sure anyone his son’s age would find terrifying, but which he couldn’t help but think of as the most adorable look he’d ever seen in his life. Which was unsurprising given how hard he’d fallen in love with Kushina the first time she gave him that same glare. 

“Good night, Naruto,” he leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his son’s forehead. “And sweet dreams.”

Grumbling, Naruto turned onto his side so that his back was facing his dad and hugged Kurema closer to his tiny body. “I bet you lost,” he muttered to himself. “But…Pidgeotte never loses.”

 “That’s right,” tucking his son’s blanket under his body, he chuckled when he thought back to the gym battle all those years ago. “Pidgeotte never loses.”

[theshadowsparrow]

Location: Dalaran Underbelly Participants: Theo, Lae'lia (Sin'dorei warlock)

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Theo’s back stood against a brick wall, one foot flat pressed to it as well. The alleyway in the belly of Dalaran stunk of rat nests, degenerate piss, damp air and sin. Paradise. This time, Silvermoon’s orphan wore a mask over his eyes to leave his mouth in plain view. He picked away at something caught up between an elven fang and the tooth beside it with a toothpick. The sound drew closer on the stones.

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“Theo…dayne…”

He hissed, pushing off the wall and tossed the shard of wood aside. A growl rumbled out from his chest.

“I’ve half a mind to cut your tongue from that pretty face. You dare speak that name here?”

Her laughter richly flowed from her lips and licked his frame too deliciously… too dangerously as they made their mutual approach. She was dressed to capture a man’s soul and break his heart at the same time. High heels continued to sound on the ground with her measured saunter. Theo crossed his arms and while his fingers itched to draw blades to sink into her flesh. That wasn’t the only thing on his body tempted.

“Is that a crack in your armor I see? Tsk, you’re losing your edge.”

Theo grunted as the female elf came to stand before him, smelling of unfulfilled promises and temptation embodied. She stood just beneath his chin, hair the shade of dried blood that glistened in the dull lighting of the alley as if it was slightly damp. Curves for days with her ample hips and plump, firm breasts. The tapered waist where the silk clung begged to be touched, tested as did the strength of those thick thighs. He’d watched her ass plenty of times to know it on sight. She knew her looks afforded her liberties that no one else on this planet could otherwise with so many.

One of her painted nails reached up to press into his abs. Theo didn’t even hesitate as he struck out, hand moving to grip behind her head and fisting a handful of her hair. Her hiss was that of a viper as he angled her head back. She grinned up at him.

“There’s the Shadow Sparrow I know,” Lae’lia purred and Theo gripped her hair even harsher to bring on a familiar sting. His hand struck her waist, turning her before shoving her face into the brick. His body came quickly to align against her own, pressing her there. All she did was laugh again, its sound echoing down the narrow passageway. Dragging nails up the rough stone, Lae set her palms flat while rocking her hips back into his pelvis. A pout came to find him unaroused.

Theo growled again through clenched teeth. He spoke slowly, making damn sure she understood his words. “I didn’t bring you here for this. Now, tell me what the fuck it is I want to know.”

He’d be a fool not to admit his flesh was tempted, but he’d be a bigger fool to show it and give her any leverage over him. Theo forced images of fucking idiots praying to false gods in the Cathedral in Stormwind, and there was no chance this vixen was gonna win over that. She better not. Theo lifted her head a small fraction only to shove it right back against the stone again, not giving any shits if the brick scratched or marred her features.

“And you better keep those hands right where I can see them. I don’t need to let go of you to kill you,” he drew close to her ear to remind Lea before taking hold of her earlobe, biting it harshly.

She bucked against him, the tone escaping her mouth sounding pretty damn close to that of a moan. Once, she thought he'd been under her thrall. Once, they’d spent a single night of utter debauchery that Lae was convinced she’d found her mate in life only to awake to an empty bed. No note. And, he’d robbed her. She recalled that now with fondness as she ground her ass against him again, hips shifting back and forth trying to get /him/ to pay any sort of attention to her. “You know I like it when you hurt me, Theo.”

Fuck all the gods, false and true. This woman. He began to shove her head further into the wall and push himself away when one of her arms lowered, gripping at his waist in a desperate attempt to keep him near her. “Wait! Just…,” Lae’lia bit her bottom lip as Theo smirked. The negotiations had begun. “If you just be with me again, I’ll tell you whatever it is you want to know. I’ll tell you everything”

“I’m not buying it, Lae,” Theo replied and this time, he pressed his hips into her ass, pressing his lean form into hers, a display of strength to her softness. “I could fuck you right here, right now and get you to spill your fucking guts, sure. Or, I could spill your fucking guts as you tell me what I want to know anyway. How about we forego both, hm?”

Theo felt her stiffen beneath him and the dark beast preened within him. He was itching for a fight and this delectable warlock was the perfect specimen for such. It made him wonder where the fuck her precious imps were, his spidey senses hadn’t gone off yet. Had she really come here alone? Or her damn voidwalker bodyguard. Lae’lia almost never went anywhere without it. Probably guarding the alleyway. Theo made peace with this conclusion just as he felt the elf beneath him slowly relax, submitting under his will. Satisfaction filled him but Theo hungered for more.

“Fine, Shadow Sparrow. Have it your way,” Lae snapped before dropping her arms down by her sides limply.

Theo eased his head down by her neck, tugging on her hair to angle her head back so he could kiss the side of her flesh. “Good, now we can fuck.”

<< FADE TO BLACK >>