#usually I just brute forced whatever needed to be on the paper so I could get over with as soon as possible

[comet-frog]

Writing an actual first draft feels weird gamers

[swampstew]

*pokes head in* Did I hear 'requests'? I'm so excited! If you're interested, could we please get some headcanons about Kid and Shanks each comforting a tired, run-down reader? I don't know about you, but work, school, and other responsibilities have me feeling like a wrung out dish cloth. And spicy headcanons are awesome too, if you're in the mood, because something tells me both of these red-heads like to use their bodies to help their partners relax~

As always, thank you for all the hard work, Raven. You make a lot of people very happy and we appreciate all you do. <3 Take care of yourself, witchlet!

AAAH Star thank you for the request and double thank you for making it a Kid one♥ I'll do fluff and spice head canons cause we deserve it! I hope you take some time to self care beloved.

Content warning: 18+ only, fluff and spice, Eustass Kid X GN Reader, Shanks X GN reader (no reader description or pronouns used), existing relationship with both. Minors DNI you will be blocked

Fluff

Kid realized something was up when you couldn't meet his eyes. Like you were trying to distance yourself from him when he was in the same room as you. He didn't like that. A chat with Killer reveals you've been stressed for a minute and a half and that makes Kid angry. Why didn't you say anything? He knows he's gotten on your ass about taking care of yourself from burnout, but do you ever listen?! Baka! His baka. Ok, so now he has to take matters into his own hand(s). Bet.

Whatever you were busy with, you're not anymore as he snatches you away and charges like a bulls to his cabin with you against his chest. Not slowing down, the first thing he does is toss you into a tub full of bubbles and hot water. Time to scrub away all your tension and he'll be doing the honors thank you very much. He leaves you to prune as he goes to the kitchen to help Killer prepare a plate for you. Nutritious finger foods, some sweet fruits, and your vitamins and supplements you've been neglecting to take.

As you eat, Kid - with as much patience as he can muster - meticulously combs your hair and lathers it with your usual products. He'll slap a face mask or two on you, yes at the same time because logic(??), and maybe even do your nails if you're into it. He'll even massage your upper back, working out all the knots that you didn't realize were there. He has to stop himself from going any further, there'll be time for that later. Now that you're clean and fed, it's time for him to whip out the shock factor.

Clearing his throat and pulling out a sheet of paper (that Killer gave him), he starts to list off: "Tell me how you're feeling." "Did I do something to hurt you?" "Do I need to kill anyone or destroy anything to get you to smile?" "What can I do to make you feel better?" "Do you need a shag?" "Why didn't you tell me you were struggling?" "Are you an idiot?" - Kid snuck that one in, it is not Killer approved. "You know I love you and I'd do anything to make you happy, right?"

Kid is still uncomfortable with being vulnerable but he won't let that stop him from being there for you as you spill everything that's been causing you anxiety and stress. Might cringe a little at the crying but that's because he's awkward and used to being the cause of someone's crying. Don't let it stop you though! He'll just smother you against his chest. He applies the logic of a weighted blanket here by using brute force to cement your face between his pecs until your breathing slows down. Snot and drool don't bother him but hearing your whimpering cries is enough to fracture his steel heart.

Spicy

NGL, Kid's first thought when he sees how strung out you are is that he's not dicking you down enough. He's heard of Vitamin D deficiency, and he's truly an asshole to be depriving you of his D. He didn't think he was but shit he must have if you're struggling this much without him. Haah? It's because of lack of sunlight and proper food? Nope, doesn't believe you. He's taking you to pound town. Yes he said it exactly like that.

He won't deny himself an opportunity to fuck you, but if you don't want him to penetrate you with his actual D, he'll just fuck you with everything else. His fingers, his tongue, his teeth and lips, and all the toys he's been making for the two of you to play with. He'll build you up nice and slow, dragging it out at first because he's still a bit mad you didn't trust him enough to let him in when you were hurting - this is your punishment. The rewards will be delicious and bountiful, don't you worry.

Kid doesn't expect anything in return but if you feel generous enough to reciprocate, he won't say no. He definitely won't push it, might hint at it a few times, he'll respect your boundaries either way. Nah? Ok he'll focus on breaking his standing record of how many times he can make you cum without his Dick. Yes? Nice! Again he'll build you up nice and slow, cause he wants you to feel every drag of his Dick inside you - then when he thinks you've earned it, he'll ravage and mark you with his stamina and passion.

Fluff

Shanks is able to keep tabs on your well-being because he's generally closer with you and actively talks to you about most things. Also because he cheats and uses his advanced observation haki to feel you out. However, he knows how much you value your independence so he won't step in immediately when you start withdrawing, letting you be the one to come to him first. Sometimes you're really fucking stubborn and he waits too long to reach out until you're in the throes of a spiral or burn out. No one claimed he was a genius.

He's a communicator though and that's the first thing he'll do once he corners you after you've tried to dodge him for the fourth time tonight. No where left to run little one. Time to talk about your feelings. Yes now. With no choice, you spill your sorrows as he nods his head with a frown on his face, so upset that you've been suffering in silence when you had him all along. He needs a drink tbh.

After you cry it out some, Shanks finally releases you from his grip and pulls you into the shower. It's time to sluice off the depression, starting with a steamy shower. It'll open your pores to let all that stress dissipate. Then, he makes you dinner paired with a bottle of wine - where he starts listing off all the responsibilities he's taking off your plate (while stealing some food off your plate), penciling himself in your calendar for weekly dates with him, and weekly self dates for yourself. You need to treat yourself more! He'll give you all his gold! "No Captain," Benn calls from the doorway. "Yes Captain," Shanks retorts defiantly.

Ok so you can't have all the money but you can have pretty much anything you want. Currently its being held down in a cuddle sandwich between Shanks and Benn while Yasopp yapped out a story while sitting at the edge of the bed and somehow that distraction was enough to get you out of your own head. Oh Lucky Roo entered the cabin with some snacks, great you were getting hungry again.

Before you fall asleep much earlier than you had been recently - before midnight even! - Shanks sank into the bed with you as the others left and turned off the light. He whispers sweet nothings into your ears to help drive out any anxieties still lingering in the space between your ears. Don't wait too long to talk to him ok? He wants to do everything in his power to make you happy with him and happy in life.

Spicy

Like the other one-armed, red-haired pirate, Shanks first thinks that the reason you're feeling down in the dumps is because he's been neglecting you physically. So he is quick to offer himself up to you - in mind, spirit, and chiseled body. He gives you a show because he knows you like to check him out when you think he doesn't notice - news flash he always does but he thinks its so cute you think you're getting away with it. He makes it a sensual and light hearted show that surely leaves you panting.

Shanks has always been a generous lover and that's no different now. He takes you in your favorite ways, not bothering to edge or tease you, going in for straight pleasure because you've been feeling everything but recently. Knowing your body like he knew his sword (Gryphon), he guides your way to bliss easily and repeatedly.

This is the one time he's purely selfless and does not pleasure himself, only focused on pleasing you. By the time he's through with you, your frown is upside down, lopsided and flooded with drool. Your voice is hoarse, your body is littered in love marks, he knows he's done a good job at wiping your mind blank of all your troubles, at least for a little bit. When you wake up, he'll be there to help you with the rest.

[stillgrows]

@decomposited asked:

“...Excuse me,” The new Knave said, voice scarcely above a whisper. They peeked in through the door to the laboratory, only deeming it safe to move forward when they caught sight of the other Harbinger. “You’re Scaramouche, right?” Arlecchino recognized them from her introduction ceremony. And, for the time being, did not perceive them as a threat. “I…Is The Doctor here?” Even if they were asking after him, Arlecchino gave every sign they didn’t want to be present. His arms were folded over his abdomen protectively, those ink-stained hands plainly visible without the oversized coat in the way. Whatever brought them all this way must be awfully important.

Really, Scaramouche had no reason to be here beyond finding the laboratory comfortable and The Doctor's presence tolerable on a bad day and maybe even slightly worth humoring on a good one. They'd spent so much time here—so much time around him—over the centuries that it became one of their usual haunts when their time on standby deemed itself just as unexciting as it sounded. So old habits and familiarity had them lying back across one of the many tables, holding some papers they were reading above them. Dottore's notes he had left unattended.

Sharp indigo eyes flicked toward the door when that quiet voice spoke through it, taking in the appearance of the newest of their numbers. The Fourth. If he had been just any human maybe they'd feel some sort of bitterness about being ranked lower, but they knew there was something different about this one. Besides, it didn't matter. Not really. This was all a temporary situation, despite how long they'd been here.

They gave a small nod in affirmation to her question about their title, eyes flicking briefly back to the messy notes still held above them. Then they let out a sigh as they sat up, papers discarded on the table beside them—more or less where they'd found them. Probably. "If he was, you'd know." Whether they meant that he'd be found out due to his dramatics or the way he could practically sniff out an experiment they left up to interpretation. "He stepped out for a minute. He'll be back soon."

The Balladeer took a moment to really take in the newcomer, their quiet voice and defensive posture at odds with the stoicism they'd displayed at the small ceremony. And to kill the former Knave... She certainly didn't seem like the type capable of such a thing, so young and reserved, although that inky blackness on his hands... hm. Dottore having failures from the House of the Hearth passed into his custody was no great secret, and they knew some of those outcomes: mindless soldiers high on power and elemental energy, mainly, good for not much else but brute force and to have bodies when needed. Those were the ones that didn't die.

"Are you going to wait? Or do you want me to tell him you came looking for him?"

[gerudospiriit]

follow up to this ask

Nabooru paced the length of her desk, twisting a crimson strand of hair around her fingers. With how long she strode the same path waiting for Aveil, she could have carved a a path into the the deepest depths of the desert. She purposefully kept her gaze from roving to her desk, the pile of ash sitting atop it. She could still see it in her periphery. Feel the heat radiating through her body. The flames of the torches rising and roaring around her...

When the door finally opened, her second striding in with the least amount of urgency possible, it took considerable control not to scold her for taking so long. She purposefully neglected to request the guard hurry or inform Aveil of an emergency to keep from alarming the young woman or her second. At least not until she could speak with the latter face to face.

"You called?"

Nabooru paused her pacing, and, judging by the way Aveil's brow wrinkled and she frowned, she didn't hide her frazzled state as well as she hoped. "Yes, we need to talk."

"You're not breaking up with me, are you?" she teased, trying to lighten the mood. Her specialty under more...normal circumstances. "What's eating you Nabs? I haven't seen you this out of sorts since you were dealing with Ganondorf."

"I'd rather be dealing with him," she muttered, resting against the desk. She folded her arms. "That dignitary from Hyrule wrote us back. He basically said there was nothing they could do, and that all of our concerns were unfounded. He dismissed us, as usual. they won't help and the won't investigate further."

She laughed bitterly and added, "Oh, but we're invited to attend the princess's coronation. Said they would be honored to have us."

The Gerudo second in command's visage darkened. "I can't say I'm surprised, but I'm disgusted. We presented evidence for all of it, but they refuse to investigate?" she hissed, hands curled into fists at her sides. "We can't let this stand. They'll keep doing this to our people and pretend they had nothing to do with it. We have to do something."

"I know," Nabooru agreed, the words of the letter tumbling through her consciousness again. Boiling her blood again. She sucked in a breath to calm herself. Her high emotion seemed to trigger...whatever happened to her before. "As much as I respect the princess for trying to ease the the tensions between our peoples, her efforts are in vain, apparently. The damage from the war, from Ganondorf...it's too much for the fools to put behind them and realize we're just trying to live our lives. They won't be content until we're gone, it seems."

Aveil mirrored Nabooru, arms folding over her chest. "We can't just attack them. The fight would be over before it could start once the Goron and Zora come to Hyrule's aid. And we can't just leave either. We've just started building the town, and we weren't exactly making it big enough for everyone to move into."

"We'll have to be smart about it, but I think our only choice is brute force." She inhaled, the scent of burning paper lingering in the room. "Really plan things out and ensure we don't make a single mistake. Do our research and give ourselves any advantage we can. Find allies, maybe..."

"Allies where?" Aveil questioned, eyebrow raised. "The Kokiri aren't exactly fighters, and those bird people from the north, the Rito...if they weren't interested in the squabbles of the rest of Hyrule before, I don't see why they'd be keen on helping us now."

"I don't know. Beyond the desert? We can travel more now. There might be more out there..." In another realm...

Despite her attempt at putting a positive spin on her suggestion, it still sounded unconvincing in her own ears. They needed a solution, and they needed it quick. Traipsing the desert, speaking and making deals with other tribes or kingdoms if they ever found them...would Hyrule's hate for them allow them that kind of time?

She couldn't get desperate. Desperation bred mistakes, missteps they couldn't afford. She couldn't lose herself. Not like he did.

Her mind reeled back to the letter, the pile of ask she left it in. She licked her lips. "There's...something else."

"Please tell me it's good news."

Nabooru circled to the other side of the desk. "That letter...I..." She trailed off and dipped her index and middle fingers into the ash, dragging them along the wood and leaving two sooty lines in their wake. "I burned it."

Aveil stared, unimpressed. "Is that a bad thing? I think I would have done the same."

"No...no I mean I burned it. With...with..." she held up her hands, half expecting them to glow. "With I don't know what. Magic? My sage powers don't deal with fire though, so...I don't know what happened. The torches went crazy, too. I was reading it, getting angry and..."

She trailed off, pulse quickening. Magic. Forced to carry the legacy and power of the Sage of Spirit irked her enough, and now...now something else awakened in her. What did it mean? Where did it come from? If she lost control of it...

Nabooru swallowed, finally glancing up to find her second in command staring at her in disbelief. "Like, fire magic?" she asked. "You've never practiced magic though. Did Ganondorf teach you something?"

"No, I wouldn't let him even if he offered." She wiped her hand on her pants. "I need to figure it out though. I...if I lose control...I don't want to hurt another Gerudo or destroy the fortress."

Aveil tapped her finger against her cheek. "That's a good point...Though if you lost control in Hyrule Castle..."

"Better there than here, sure, but I'd rather not," Nabooru sniffed.

"Just a thought," she defended, the hint of a cheeky grin on her lips. "My only suggestion would be to talk to one of the priestesses. They're the ones that would likely have any knowledge of magic or...weird magic suddenly manifesting in people?"

Sinking into her seat, she rubbed her temples. "Yes...I guess you're right." The thought of speaking to any of them about this already threatened to split her head with a migraine. "I'll go find them in a bit. Keep this to yourself for now. I'll see what's going on with these powers, and maybe we can do some research on lands outside of here. We'll talk to the rest of the Elite in a few days."

Aveil nodded. "Let me know if you need anything. Go take a relaxing bath or something first. Calm yourself down."

Nabooru waved her off and watched her leave, but seriously considered her suggestion. Stress relief would do her some good. Keep people from suspecting the worst in seeing their chief stressed out more than usual. She stood again, chair legs scraping against sandstone, and headed back to her room to take Aveil's advice.

[shadow-sandiego-shipping]

Bruises

Part 1 - Shadow-san kisses Carmen’s bruise

               It was a relatively simple mission. As always, Player intercepted a conversation within VILE's crime net, leading to Red Team going to Cairo.

According to their sources, a VILE operative had already been dispatched in the city. However, they were instructed to wait for the second operative before they could pull off the heist.

Carmen, though the best course of action, would be striking early. Get into the museum VILE was planning to hit before the other operative could come and steal whatever they were going to steal before they could. It was Red Team MO.

What they didn't see coming was that not all of VILE's agents are "obedient little sheep".

Carmen hisses as Shadow-san presses just a little too hard on the scrape in her knee. The hiss is so loud, he stops entirely.

"Are you alright?" He asks, his expression surprised. She wasn’t usually so vocal whenever he patched her up.

"I'm fine." Her voice is normal, but she seems out of breath.

"I'm sorry." Even in a different context, she was getting really tired of hearing him say that.

Despite everything, his movements do become more gentle. Not that he was being a brute before, but it wasn't exactly a surprise his anger took the best of him. Especially when dealing with bloody scrapes.

Carmen’s legs were full of bruises, and her knees were in a really rough shape after her fall. It probably didn’t help that she picked herself up right after, fought Paper Star on the roof, and even hung her for the authorities to find before going back to the hotel.

Shadow-san had scolded her for not being careful enough. He was fuming. She told him she didn't need any help patching herself up, but he insisted. With how angry he had looked, his tenderness in applying the antiseptic surprised her.

"I should have come with you." Shadow-san suddenly muttered bitterly, pulling her back to the present.

"What difference would that have made?" If it were Tigress or Le Chèvre in that roof, then maybe he could’ve helped, but without knowing Paper Star, was there his presence wouldn't lead to any different outcomes.

"I could've dealt with her and prevented you from straining yourself." He sounded pissed.

"I took care of it just fine, on my own. Besides... it was just two little scratches." She waved him off.

He stops what he's doing again to glare at her.

Right, he was taking care of them. He was the judge on whether they were little or not.

"They don't really hurt that much." She shrugs. His gaze doesn't falter. She feels like a child being scolded (even if he didn't say anything at all).

"Look, you don't know how it happened. How was I supposed to see it coming?" The need to justify herself felt dumb, but she couldn’t help it. It's not like she was wrong anyway.

Paper Star was but a dot in that roof, a dot Carmen only took notice when it was already too late. In the darkness of night, the paper ninja stars flew right towards her, and she couldn’t even see them, let alone dodge. After that, it was only a matter of choosing where to crash with a ripped glider. She hadn’t done too bad; duck and roll; the brute force of the fall took a strain on her knees, but she protected the face.

After a little bit of silence, Shadow-san lets out a sigh. He knows judging her wouldn't change the past. And she was right on all accounts.

"Just... could you be more careful next time?" He seems more tired than angry asking that. It's a meaningless question. It held no value of accountability, but it would make him feel better, at least.

Carmen chuckles. "I'll try my best." That seemed to be enough.

He resumes his ministrations, finishing his cleaning of all the open wounds (regardless of how small they were) and applying differently sized bandages to each. After he's done, he grabs a tube from the medkit Carmen had never seen before.

He squeezes some of the contents in his fingers and plays with it a bit.

"What is that?" She makes herself ask.

With the hand that wasn’t playing with the transparent goop, he lifts the tube so she can read the label.

Bruise Cream

Uh... did he get that for her? Maybe he got sick of seeing her bruises whenever she wore shorts around.

The gesture, although small, makes her feel all fuzzy and warm.

After he's done heating up the lotion between his fingers, he looks at her for approval. "Can I?" His voice is a contrast now to the angry tone he had spoken to her before. The scolding was over, and now it was time for comfort. She's just not sure she was ready.

She nods, not trusting her voice to not give away the turmoil his actions just cause in her.

A steady hand holds her ankle, the other works the cream in meticulous circular motions. He spreads the lotion into every bruise, massaging it softly, just enough pressure to be felt.

He's careful not to miss any by starting from her ankle and going all the way up her knee. Then, he does the same to the other leg.

It's nothing special. He's just putting bruise cream in her bumps. She doesn't know why her heart is thumping like he's proclaiming his love (he might as well have been).

When he's done with all her bruises, he puts everything away. Before he's done, he catches another bruise in the corner of his eye. It's higher up than the others and heel shaped. The on good hit Paper Star managed to land on her.

His left hand comes to cup her thigh just next to the bruise, his thumb stroking the edges.

Neither of them is sure what possed him in that moment to lean in and kiss her bruise.

A crow's feather, brushing against her thigh.

In this position, with him kneeling on the floor as she sat on the couch, the action seemed almost like reverence. Like she was his queen, and he was merrily paying respects.

'Overdue respects' he would tell her.

The kiss was over, and he parted from the bruise. His breath, a ghost felling up her thigh. It made her shiver.

He looks up at her with such care and love pouring from his eyes, his thumb and hand still framing her outer thigh, and a gentle little smile on his face.

He's happy. Happy she's alright, and barely hurt and still spunky. He's relieved.

And she? She's trembling with emotion. Her thighs slightly parted and shivering under his hand.

His smile drops as he seems to realize what he's just done. He stands up abruptly, placing his hands up between them, like a barrier.

Their positions are reversed, and now, he's the one on top. But she's the one with power.

He tries to back up some more, but the coffee table is in the way. He looks away from her, the blush in her tanned cheeks making him dread his actions.

He tries to leave, but she catches his wrist.

Immediately, he blurts out: "I'm sorry." He should be. It's been a while since she confessed her feelings. He really should be more careful of how he acts around her.

"You know how I feel about you." It's not a question. "Why would you do that?".

He clenches his fist. He doesn't have an answer. His eyes are pressed shut and his feet rooted in place.

"I'm sorry." He said that back when she'd confessed too. "I'm sorry." He says again.

She's not amused. She lets go of his wrist after squeezing it gently. He doesn't move.

"Thank you... for patching me up." He looks at her then, eyes apologetic. She loves him too much to make him accountable. She smiles at him, it gives 'it's fine', 'I'm fine'. It's not convincing.

He leaves.

Read Part 2 here.

[finniestoncrane]

Daddy's Sweetheart (Oswald Cobblepot x Reader)

You won't be surprised by the trajectory, but I am now in love with Oz so here's a lil fic with some fluff and angst and a whole lot of smut 💚

💜 I am just going hog wild with content tonight fellas, it's just that "sweetheart" moment in the gif below that's driving me crazy 💜

warnings/tags on AO3, minors DNI, reader is AFAB, she/her pronouns used, warnings for a bit of brute force, 3270 words

💜 A huge thank you to my oz-slut in crime @cokelacedrabbit who encourages, participates in and effectively co-authors the extensive thirsting that leads to thoughts like this. 💜

In the morning, you were greeted by the light streaming in from the large floor to ceiling window in the bedroom, curtains pulled and bed empty and made on the other side without you being roused from sleep. Oz worked quickly and quietly and this morning was no different. His internal body clock was fully adjusted now to the point where he didn’t need an alarm to wake him up at the right time. A full hour before you would be wakened, he got up and began preparations for your day. As usual, you didn’t get out of bed until he woke you, opting to pretend to still be asleep. It tended to set his day off right if he was able to wake you by kissing your forehead and humming a tune, an old song he never remembered the words to.

“Someone used to hum it to me, once.”

At the warm and ever unexpected gentleness of his lips against your head, hair brushed away by his large hands, Oz relayed his spiel of affirmations to you.

“Good morning, sweetheart. It’s a beautiful day for a beautiful gal. You’re so special to me.”

He scooped you up and out of the bed into an all-encompassing embrace. Physical contact was important to him, like a confirmation of your efforts, contracted though they may be. And truthfully, while they were merely lines in a job description at first, they had become second nature to you and you looked forward to them. You sighed breathily as you leaned into his chest, head against his shirt. He was already dressed, hair tidy, accessories and suit matching, looking effortlessly handsome. You were unsure if it was the respectful boundaries he had set for you, or if it was the fact that months of giving head and jerking him off at his desk and receiving nothing but luxuries in return, but you were beginning to find him irresistibly attractive. It was becoming a desperate need to be closer to him, more intimate that your contract stated, more than he had allowed.

You ate breakfast together, as was custom, with you on Oz’s lap. He fed you fruit and you stroked his cheek as he drank his coffee. Usually in the morning, Oz insisted that you were quiet for fifteen minutes or so, fawning over him in silence as he caught up with the news in the papers. Only headlines, and only things that pertained to his business, or which might have made it easier for him to conduct some extra business on the side. It never ceased to amaze you how intelligent he was, yet how overlooked he could be. The misjudgement served him well though, and he used it brilliantly to his advantage. He was an impressive man.

Always keen to emphasis your important to him, Oz spent the next half hour talking to you and listening intently, showing how he cared. He asked the same things he did most mornings. What you dreamt of the night before, any new stories you had, what your friends were doing. He remembered the name of everyone you’d mentioned in the past, and there was something so endearing and caring about the way he made a point of nothing those things. It was what set him apart from most of the other men you had had dealings with in the past. Oz, though he would never admit it, had deep feelings for you though, and it showed in the way he treated you. Even the way he looked up at you, when he thought you were too busy talking about whatever drama, which paled in comparison to his work, was ringed with the dreamy, love-ridden attention of a teenager with their first crush.

Breakfast was followed by getting dressed. Oz, as usual, had picked out your outfit as he did most days. It gave him a sense of control without being too intrusive, he said. The clothes in the wardrobe available to him were all ones you chose after all, bought by him as a treat, a reward for doing nothing at all except existing and smiling at him. And the only stipulation you ever had when browsing for new clothing was that it had to stick to a colour scheme. Blacks, greys, whites and purples. He liked your hair a certain way too, and once he had brushed it for you, a routine which he enjoyed the intimacy of, always running his fingers through it one final time before standing you up from the dressing table, he watched you style it if he had time.

As you caught him staring in the reflection of the mirror while putting on your makeup, your face flushed, considering the way he found it so fascinating how you did these menial parts of your routine. And you stifled a small giggle as your mind was cast back to the time he had watched you paint your nails. You had noticed how intensely he was staring and when you finished letting one hand dry, you jokingly asked him if you could paint his too, surprised by how casually he agreed.

“Anything for you, my little princess.”

You had painted them all black, matching your own apart from the purple on your index finger. He had admired them, laughing at himself a bit, but you could tell he liked how it looked. Handing him the bottle, you asked him to do your other hand and he took it, nervously. The first stroke was all over the edges, and he apologised with a sincerity that broke your heart. You laughed it off and told him it wasn’t permanent. He had held your hand so gently from that point, but kept going, apologising for making a mess of your beautiful hands, kissing them with apology, before carrying the kisses up your arm to your neck, ending at your cheek. You had turned your head quickly, hoping for more, your lips touching in a shock of electricity for a brief and luxurious moment before he pulled back. He held his tongue, closed his eyes as he let whatever almost came out of his mouth pass, and stroked your cheek before he left the room.

As you finished with your makeup and hair, Oz picked out the perfume for you to wear and gently sprayed it around you.

“Ok, sweetheart. Enjoy your day, but I’ve got to go out to a meeting. Daddy has business to do.”

He winked, and you frowned. You knew how much he loved taking you to meetings, but he liked you to beg. Fluttering your eyelashes and making your eyes big, pleading and wet, you pouted at him, allowing a whiny little please, followed by a dramatic shoulder drop. It had been very easy at the start of your relationship to pick up on exactly what Oz liked. Begging, no matter how obviously put on it was, had done the trick each time. He loved it when you whined, and you had learned quickly that he got off on being wanted, needed. You gave him your little finger, shaking it with his, and promised to behave. He winked at you and called back as he left the room.

“Get dressed quickly then, angel!”

It was always a pleasure to go somewhere with Oz, as he always insisted that some things remained his responsibility, especially when it came to you. He was old fashioned in his charms. While there would always be a henchman to open his door as you got in and out of his car, not one of them was to ever touch yours. That was his job, and he took is very seriously. And as he walked around to your side, you felt your heart flutter, excited at the very expected gesture.

“Can I offer you a hand, sweetheart?”

You took it, stepping out into the streets of Gotham, instantly covered by his umbrella. He’d hold it over you completely, willing to get completely soaked and unashamedly dishevelled for any meeting if it meant that you could be as pristine as possible.

Wherever his business meetings took place, whatever they were about, you were granted access to the room and were expected to sit in Oz’s lap, quietly, the whole time. And today was no different. Oz placed his hand on your thigh once you had settled on his thighs and you adjusted under it, knowing he wouldn’t be removing it for the duration, even if it meant he would struggle to sign any documents or flick through any files.

Whoever the man across the desk was, he wasn’t well versed in Oz’s rules and with a flippant gesture at you, he asked who the hell you were. You could feel Oz’s hand tighten on your thigh before moving up around your hip, pulling you closer, your hands instinctively cupped his face, body pressed closer into him to affirm your alliance to him. He smacked his free hand down onto the table.

“Hey! Don’t you look at her, don’t even breathe in her fuckin’ direction.”

The rest of the meeting was tense, and as usual, when he’d had to raise his voice in front of you, Oz leant into you. It was always nice to have a reason for him to apologise to you. He always took such great care in assuring you that he would never be mad at you, and would never yell at you. You were a good girl. He had his hands on either side of your face, gazing into your eyes and instilling a sense of trust that you had never felt before. His hands, strangely soft, thumbs grazing against your cheekbones, he pressed a kiss against your forehead as he reassured you how well you did.

He had known he didn’t have to do that though. You enjoyed they way he exerted his power over people, how they cowered at him while you sat atop him, feeling safe and secure. You loved how his body tensed when he raised his voice, how undeniably powerful and attractive it was when he made men bigger and stronger than him whimper pathetic apologies. It was a complete turn on, and the physical response you had was me with a smirk and some playful teasing.

“You’ve made an awful mess of daddy’s suit there, sweetheart.”

You licked your lips, delighted that he could feel how wet you were as you squirmed on his lap. He pulled out a wad of cash from his pocket, dangling it in front of you.

“You’ve made a mistake there if you think you’ve been good enough to get your allowance.”

You pouted again, huffing as you brought a hand up to his chest and stroked down his tie, tugging it lightly when you reached the bottom.

“If you want, you can try and make it up to me, we’ll see if you can win back daddy’s favour, huh?”

He wiggled the money again, before nodding down to his crotch.

“You know what to do, princess.”

Another thing you knew about Oz was how desperately he wanted you to play dumb all the time. He loved teaching you, showing you how something was done, or at least how it was done to his specific tastes. He sloped his knees and you slid off gently to the floor, kneeling him before him as he sat in his chair. You widened your eyes and looked up at him, trying to convey a sense of innocence, though you both knew that was long gone.

“Ok, sweetheart.” He unzipped and pulled himself out, holding his cock, erect, in his palm. “Put your hand where mine is.”

Once your hand was on him, he wrapped his around yours and moved your fist up and down his length.

“That’s it, princess. How about you open your mouth up now, do you want daddy to show you how to do that too?”

You nodded enthusiastically, loosening your jaw and sticking your tongue out. He shifted forward in the chair, you moved between his wide spread legs, and he dropped the head of his cock onto your tongue, eyes closing as the moan you let out vibrated through him. Your tongue swirled around the head, and you could sense him tensing under your palms, which were holding onto his thighs as you brought your head down, mouth around him. It struck a chord in you, how relaxed, cool and calm and collected he could be in every other aspect of life. But in a moment of intimacy, his body was rigid, stiff with nerves.

In a move to claw back some control, feigning the act of teaching you how to pleasure him which he knew you were practised in, he grabbed hold of your chin, tilting it up to watch make eye contact with him and holding the back of your head to control the pace. You reached your hand up and onto his stomach, moving your palm, flat and smooth, up to his chest where you rested it, feeling his heartbeat. It rose the longer you held your hand there, and he batted you away softly. You weren’t really supposed to care, but you did. Oz was so good to you, so kind and so gentle. He deserved to feel it in return, completely and honestly.

You removed your mouth from him, and he looked down, startled at this sudden defiance.

“Please, daddy. Oz.”

There was very little else you had to say, or could say, that could convey better your intentions. And when you realised he wasn’t putting up a fight yet, you elected to convince him slowly. You undid the buttons on his shirt as you made your way back down his torso, head resting against his inner thighs, kissing them through the fabric of his pants. His hands were resting on your shoulders, but there was no resistance behind them. You were winning him over, finally. And not wanting to risk him changing his mind again, you began to unbuckle his belt, pulling his pants and underwear down slowly as he leant his head back into the head rest of the chair.

Incredibly aware of the risk, but not wanting to waste the opportunity, you quickly climbed on top of him, hiking your skirt up and placing your body against his, on top of him, with your legs draped down the side of the chair at the back. Before he could utter any semblance of refusal, you kissed him. It was hot, heavy, and incredibly moist as saliva rushed into your mouth, drooling at finally being able to show him your full appreciation, to express romantic desire for him, your feelings of love and devotion.

At the passion, the exertion of energy you were putting into your kiss, Oz was crumbling underneath you. Thankful that you had neglected to put on the underwear he had left out for you, you positioned yourself into the center of his lap, hand grasping his cock at the base, before gently inserting him into you.

Inside of you, warmth covering him entirely as you sat back down into his lap, Oz’s breath hitched beneath you. He was still, completely, and you began to feel concern that this was really not what he wanted. That all of the lingering moments of physical contact, the times he had watched you bathing, letting you sip champagne from a glass he held for you, lust and adoration obvious on his face, had really been amounting to nothing more than the status of trophy on his arm. But as you contemplated whether to embarrass yourself by getting off of him, you felt his hips push up a little under your weight. His hands, on either side of your hips, digging into the skin and attempting to raise you up slightly.

“Please, daddy. Let me do all the work.”

Before he could say anything else, you began grinding your hips into his, rotating your lower half, easing it up slowly as you did so, gently coming back down on to him. But he was finding it hard not to engage, and his hips bucked up, thrusting you into the air slightly, the slapping of your bodies as you came crashing back down on to him explicit, lewd and carnal. You let out a moan as he thudded into you, a brief look of panic crossing his face.

“Is this ok for you, sweetheart? Does it feel good?”

You nodded, circling your hips, his hands loose on them, hard palms against your smoother skin.

“Ok, woah, sweetheart. You’re doing so good, but you keep that up I won’t last very long.”

It wasn’t so much a threat as an invite, a challenge and at the offer of having him cum inside of you, you reached your toes to the ground, giving yourself some leverage to push up further, his cock, slick and wet, sliding in and out of you.

“Oh you’re a good girl. You’re a very good girl. You keep doing that, you’re gonna make daddy cum.”

God you hoped so. And the more you moaned, the rougher he got. Your body wasn’t so much something to worship anymore. His fingers dug into your sides, nails leaving little crescent moons, red and deep in the skin.

“Please…can you go faster for daddy? Be a good girl…and go a bit faster. F-fuck…fuck…”

His voice was breathy, desperate, as you ground harder into him, lifting yourself up and slamming back down hard onto him faster.

“Oh sweetheart, that’s it!” He placed a hand on your cheek, daring to make eye contact with you. The look in his eyes as he stared at you filling your heart. “That’s how to make daddy cum.”

He was straining against your on his hips, but was determined to force himself deeper, harder, and you sensed a wave of joy in him every time you let out a pained grunt.

“Do you want…daddy to fill you up? Ask me. Beg me.”

“Please daddy, please. I want you to cum. I want to be your good girl.”

“Oh sweetheart.”

He grabbed your hair with one hand and yanked your head back, the shock and the pain causing tears to well up in your eyes. Grasping at the sides of his shirt for balance, you rode out the waves of his orgasm as he clumsily pummelled your body, expletives and praise spilling out in whispers and gasps. And with both hands on your hips, he held you in place on his lap, making sure every bit of him was spent inside of you before pulling you into his chest, stroking your hair as he caught his breath.

Oz’s cheeks were ruddy, a smile more genuine and casual than you’d seen spread on his lips as he pressed them to your forehead.

“Sweetheart, that was amazing. You did good, kid.”

At his praise, sounding truly heartfelt for the first time since you’d met him, you burst into tears, apologising into his chest as you sobbed.

“Hey, hey! What’s wrong princess, tell daddy, he’ll fix it. Was it something I did?”

You clung to his shirt, open and at his sides, and buried your face into him, kissing as you spoke.

“It just felt really good to be close to you.”

“Oh, my sweet baby. He was blushing, soothing you with his hand rubbing your side, lingering over your rear, the other on your cheek, thumb wiping away stray tears as he shushed you.

“You’re a good girl, sweetheart. A very good girl.”

[adelior]

Name: Unconditionally

Author: R. Adelio

Genre: Romance, Minecraft, Comedy, Fluff

Main Lead: Technoblade, Dreamwastaken

Female Lead: Reader

Chapter: 1

Special Addition: Tchnomaid

Letters: 10,718

<- ->

"I'm bored" You mumbled into your palm as you kept your gaze on the papers that were set up in front of you. "It's your fault for trespassing their area, [Name]. You should know by now how strict Dream is with the boundaries of the countries." Wilbur interpreted, his brows furrowing by the second. "They could have killed you."

"I'm sorry, I was just curious" Hearing you apologize, he softened up and groaned. Wil patted your shoulder with a somewhat forced smile before leaving the room. "Make sure to finish brewing the potions by the end of the day. For now," He looked back, nodding his head. "I'll see you around, [Name]."

"You too, Wil" Sighing, you turned to look at the blonde-haired boy who stood awkwardly in the corner. "Well uh, that went well at least!" Slamming your first, you startled Tommy as he shrieked. "I got in trouble in YOUR PLACE-"

"Yeahhhh, about that, I'm sorry!" Tommy shook you by the shoulders, a grin spreading across his face. "I'll make it up to you okay? I'll set you up on a date with Wilbur if it makes you feel any better" Your cheeks darkened, giving the kid a pathetic slap as you covered the bottom half of your face.

"It's really nothing like that. I don't.. like him.." The last part of your sentence was muttered, and as usual, the boy who knew of your feelings let out a hollering laugh. "I knew it! Who would have fucking thought that you'd fall for Wil! Out of all people!"

"LOOK-" You turned to face him, your face getting hotter and hotter the more you thought about it. "I have my reasons okay! He's a good guy, and on top of that, he's an amazing friend"

"An amazing friend you say? He's also one hell of a fucking leader that's for sure. But enough about your crush let's go out and play with Tubbo!" Dismissing him with a single wave, you gave your best sympathetic smile. "Sorry Tommy, but I have to finish brewing these potions by the end of the day. I can't afford to be disciplined by Wil again"

"Hm, whatever, fine" The boy shrugged, leaving you alone. "THIS ISN'T THE END WOMAN! You will join me and Tubbo on our conquest sooner or later!" You chuckled, smiling at his childish behavior. "Yeah, yeah, now go on and have fun"

You can hear him shout out loud, laughing as he tackled what you perceive to be Tubbo. "I never wanna leave" The sentence that slipped out of your mouth caught you off guard. Despite being an outsider to their nation, they treated you with respect and saw you as a member of their group.

Sitting back down, you continued to flip through the pages of the book. Studying the recipes and applying the specific ingredients to each bottle. "Oh shit, I ran out of spider eyes" Cursing, you stood up to walk towards the door, looking out into the hallway. "Niki!" You shouted from your office, capturing the woman's attention. "Yes, [Name]?"

"Do you know if we have any spider eyes left in the chest room? Or have we completely run out of it" She pondered for a second, answering once she finished checking her inventory. "I don't think we have any more spider eyes. I'm also not carrying any with me sadly"

"Oh, that's alright. I can just outside and kill some spiders myself" Pushing yourself forward to one of your chests, you opened it and took some resources. A bow, 10 arrows, and full iron armor apart from your golden shoes. "[Name], you don't need to go out and kill some on your own. It's dangerous at night"

"Exactly, which is why I plan to go to the Piglin market to trade some gold for a few stacks of spider eyes" Niki shook her head in denial, refusing to let you pass by. "That's even more dangerous! We're humans, we can't go inside there unless we have the King's permission. And usually, we'd have knightly escorts to go around with us"

"True, but I can slip in and slip out without being noticed" You shrugged on your hood, a robe that covered your full body apart from your face. "I can hide with this, besides if they aren't able to tell that I'm human they'll never be able to report it to the king"

"Al..right.." The short-haired girl had a troubled expression on her face, but nevertheless, let you pass. "Good luck! Please come home safely" You turned to give her a single nod, a reassuring smile that was enough to calm her down. "I promise, so don't worry about me okay?"

And so you left, walking to the basement of your home where the Nether Portal stood tall. You gulped at the mere sight of it, how mysterious yet alluring. The purple particles only making it look majestic. "beautiful.." You muttered as you slowly entered, the change of temperature really hit you hard. It was hot, humid compared to how it felt in the overworld. "Goddamn how do piglins live like this"

"Shocking, right?" A male voice erupted from the silence, causing you to stiffen. "I'm assuming you're not used to traveling to the Nether." You slowly turned around, only to be met with a man with dirty blonde hair. "Pardon?" You tilted your head, staring at his smiling mask. "Nothing, would you like me to escort you and keep you safe?"

"And what makes you think I'd trust a stranger" You questioned, earning a chuckle from the man. "You're not as dumb as you look. But don't worry you're not my type, I won't do anything."

"WH-" His hand went over your mouth in a flash, he moves fast for a person with netherite armor, and on top of that a black robe. "Keep your voice down, first rule when entering the Nether World is to never bring unnecessary attention to yourself."

"Got it" Your voice was muffled from his large hand, he stepped back before leading the way, making sure that you were tailing right behind him. "The second rule, make sure to always be with somebody. Never travel alone or you'll die in an instant without somebody keeping you safe."

"Safe? Is the Nether really dangerous for you to say that?" Observing his reaction, you realized how sharp his jawline was. You can't peak through the mask but his mouth was fully exposed. "Yes, I take it you've never looked into this dimension?"

"Well, to be fair I've only heard of the Nether. This is my first time actually setting foot into the portal" The man's mouth pulled back into a dumbfounded snarl, almost as if he was silently judging you for your actions. "Weird." Was all he said before nudging you forward. "We're here, keep your guard up. What are you here for exactly?"

"I'm here to trade gold for a few stacks of spider eyes" He sighed, pulling your hood closer to your face. "You do realize you could have killed a few spiders in the overworld without having to come here."

"Uh, not really the best in combat you see" You admitted, darting your attention to the passing piglings who stood at least 5 feet taller than the man leading the way. Their species were large and brute compared to humans, they were cool but dangerous to interact with. "What the hell were you thinking when you decided to come here without somebody to guide you."

"I honestly have no clue" You stared at the man with a blank face, earning a disappointed grunt from him. "Well, turn around Princess because we just arrived at the Mob looting store. Stay out here, I'll get the eyes for you."

"Wait a second- I feel bad you're the one who led me here and protected me-" The man that accompanied you patted your head with one of the most genuine smiles you've ever seen. Despite him being awfully mysterious, he has shown nothing but kindness all throughout your journey. "Don't worry about it. Just stay here and don't run off anywhere. It's even more dangerous inside because piglins tend to fight over items."

Fidgeting with your hands, you finally agreed. The blonde took that as an agreement and stepped into the store. You were left to stay outside, leaning against the wall that was nearest to the door. A few seconds passed, and yet you were still outside waiting. You were beginning to think that the man who you walked with abandoned you.

"Ex..c.." A piglin with long pink hair muttered, his hand reaching for you. "Excu.." You stepped aside, worried that the mob was here to harm you. The more you stared at him the more you realized he was one of them, but one that looked more human. "Is there something you need?" You questioned the man, earning a nod. "What is it?"

"Do you.. Do-" Before he was able to finish his sentence, your eyes widened in realization. You swung your right hand to open your inventory, taking out a gold bar to hand over to him. 'I heard piglins liked gold, maybe he'll leave me alone if I gave him one' Was what you thought as you urged the hybrid to take it.

He looked at you back and forth, debating whether or not he should accept it. "Take it, it's alright I have plenty of where that came from" The man in front of you hesitantly took the gold into his hands, his eyes widening when he realized how shiny and well kept the item was.

"You..-"

"Hey." The man who accompanied you shouted once he exited the shop, pulling out his netherite sword. "Back off."

"Hey wait! He didn't do anything wrong, leave him be" You pushed the blonde male back slightly, apologizing to the other person with a forced smile. "Let's just head back before we get caught!" Turning around, you tangled your fingers with his and ran away, waving the piglin goodbye.

"What are you doing." He asked, narrowing his eyes from under the mask. "You said to keep attention away from us so I am-"

"I wasn't even that loud." You turned to glare at him. "It got a lot of people's attention" The man laughed, swooping you into his arms, and began to speed up his pace. "You're a good listener." He complimented, a smile fighting to break through his irritated expression.

It took time for the two of you to finally reach the same Nether portal from before. The blonde slowly lowered you onto your feet, handing the bag of spider eyes into your chest. "Here, it's heavy so make sure to hold it with both hands."

"Thank you.." You muttered, gladly taking the bag with a smile. "Say, um.. I never caught your name?" Before the man was able to walk away, he turned to look at you one last time before telling you his name. "Clay, the name's clay."

"Clay?"

"I'll see you around." With that, he pushed you into the portal. You fell onto your back once you were transported over to the overworld, lying there with staggering breaths. "I never got to tell him my name though" But once you sat up, the Nether Portal's liquid-like wall disappeared. The particles were being sucked into the middle, and the doorway to hell was disappearing.

"What the..-"

"[NAME!]" You hear your name being called out by what sounds to be Wilbur. Turning to look over your shoulder, you see the whole group running towards you with a worrying expression. "You're back!"

<- ->

ec: @quacobs (instagram)

[harveywritings92]

BNHA vampire soulmate scenario: When you first saw them.

 The first time you saw him, he was feeding off someone.

TWs: Blood, death stalking and attempted assault.

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

Mr. Compress: {Your Quirk: Card capture: it's similar to Mr. Compress's quirk but you can entrap people and objects in cards by manifesting these clear glass like cards that slip out from your wrist, you can use them as throwing weapons too as they're very sharp, the only drawback is that you can get severely dehydrated if you overuse it.]

You were walking home late from work just hungry and physically done! today was crap show! first you missed the train then half way to work you forgot you realized you forgot your lunch!, Your boss (who's usually pretty chill) for whatever reason decided he hated your guts today and yelled at you in front of everyone! and to rub salt on the wound you spilt hot coffee all over yourself! so now you arms and chest have burns on them that were itchy as hell! you just wanted to crawl into bed, and forget about this day. 

You decided to cut through the park when you saw a odd pair, a man in a yellow trench coat and top-hat and mask which was pushed to the side kissing a woman in sundress under a streetlight. "huh, how sweet." you sighed exasperated before continuing on you way, when you noticed foot steps coming out behind you, you cautiously reached into your coat for one of your cards... you knew it wasn't the man in the top hat as you did a quick glance over your shoulder he was still  'occupied' you could smell stale alcohol in the air remembering the beware of mugger sign at the park entrance and figured out what was going on when the person was in grabbing range.

You whirled around grabbing your would be assailants arm forcing it up and pulling him towards you, you hissed  felt a sting on your cheek as your free hand slammed your card into his chest "release!" you barked as a powerful cyclone burst from the card sending the man flying off his feet *Thank-you Anko-san* you mentally cheer happy that your friend had a wind-quirk and let you capture it's effects in a card; said card then shattered as it was a one-shot use like all your offense cards. 

The man wheezed as he was thrown to ground next to the "couple". while you took off running! not seeing Top-hat pull away from his lady friend and sniff the air. 

Atsuhiro dropped the woman he was feeding on she slid limply to the ground as he readjusted his mask and followed that delicious scent and found a bloody knife on the ground *Could it be?!* his heart was beating abnormally faster as picked it up and sniffed it he lifted his mask up and licked the blood off the knife, Atsunhiro almost felt alive again as the sweet taste of his mate's blood touch his tongue... 

He was so elated his mask was blushing! (cos anime logic!) "My Darling❣~" he purred in pure ecstasy, but soon his euphoria was cut short when he heard the man who attempted to rob you on the ground cough, the vampiric ex-magician turned in his direction, he could smell this uncultured brutes scent all over the knife mixing his mates. 

Atsuhiro's primal urges were screaming at him to kill the man for harming his mate, however the ex-showman had something else in mind... The next morning you were watching the news on your laptop seeing the mugger at the park last night had been caught, and was being charged with murder for another woman. You felt your stomach churn as the photo of the woman who you saw making out with the top-hat man flashed on screen. 

Than you felt a a chill go down your back!

You nervously looked away from your screen and scanned around the nearly empty café, there's was only you, an elderly couple wearing matching tracksuits enjoying some tea and having a conversation, a tired and obviously hungover mother and her two rowdy kids having breakfast, and lastly a man with black hair and copper eyes wearing a yellow casual suit and gray news boy cap reading a book.

You squint at the title....The magicians nephew, you frowned letting out a small hum; swearing you felt someone's eyes on you, thinking you were just paranoid from last night... you unconsciously traced the healing cut on your cheek and went back to you doing your work, not seeing the copper eyes of Atsuhiro watching you from behind his book with a knowing smirk.

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

Dabi: You were walking home drunk to hell as your friends kept you out at the bars until 3am, you decided to take a detour home to get a late night snack/early breakfast at the 7/11 a few blocks from your place, as you were walking to the store you spied what looked a couple making out against the dumpster a few feet a ways, even in your drunken state you couldn't help but scrunched up your nose the sight. "at least take her to cheap motel buddy, jeez..." you muttered the man in the black hood growled back in retort as you entered the store.

While in the shop you frowned seeing you favorite snack was out of stock. "D-dammit." you huffed and looked around before spotting the clerk who was unpacking some packs of ramen. "Hey d'ya got any f/snack left?" you asked trying to keep from slurring your words. "Yeah there should be some packs over by the-" the clerk went to point but forgot they were holding a box cutter and accidentally jabbed you in the leg just under your knee. "Oh my gosh I'm so sorry!" the clerk gasped while you tried waving them off, it was just an accident, but if it made them feel better you bought some band-aids and disinfectant along with your food the clerk felt soo bad they gave you discount and with that you walked out in to the night....

When you got out your leg was still bleeding it didn't really bother you as you too tipsy to care, besides it's just a tiny cut, as you were leaving you noticed the "couple" still going at it, however now it felt kind of off... and that's when you noticed the man in the black hood stiffen... you stomach felt like it was full of rocks as you watched him slowly turn to face you.

Dabi was busy draining this dumb bimbo who followed him out of the bar after he told her to piss off, but seeing as he hadn't fed on fresh human blood in months, (he was drinking blood-packs of pig's blood.) he decided screw it, she'll know the consequences her actions that is if he doesn't suck her dry.. "at least take her to cheap motel buddy, jeez..." a drunk woman muttered as she passed them Dabi let out a frustrated growl at that jab yet another reason he hates feeding in public, about ten minutes later the vampire's attention was suddenly pulled away from his dinner when a sweet enticing scent invaded his nose. 

Dabi's eyes snapped open his senses were on fire as his inner monster snarled *mine.....mine...* his breathing became labored as he turned away from the woman's neck; her blood dripping down his chin as he turned to look over his shoulder, saw a [y/ht-wt] woman with [y/hc] and starring at him in shock, his eyes drifted down and saw the blood dribbling down her leg, he let go of the woman he was feeding on, she let out a weak wheeze as she fell limply to the ground not that he cared, Dabi took a step towards his mate reaching out to her, only for the woman to snap out of her shock and run....

Leaving the vampire standing there in an almost trance like state, before he looked inside the store could smell faint traces of her blood in the air and saw the clerk washing the bloody box cutter; A guttural growl escaped Dabi's throat as he approached the door. 

The poor oblivious clerk didn't know what was coming as the door chimed telling them a customer had entered the store... "Welcome!" they greeted cheerfully. from an outside point of view there was hot flash of blue from inside the 7/11 followed by the store fire alarms going off.

The next morning you were hiding under your blanket hugging your knees your whole body was shaking while you were watching the news... there was a fire at the 7/11, the clerk was killed their remains were so badly burnt they were carbonized...

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

Bakugou: You had just started working for his agency as a secretary and were working on late paperwork one of your coworkers pushed on you so they could go on a date, you grumbled as you made your way to the elevator to drop the files off on Bakugou's desk, and were stunned to find the top floor was pitch black! you were trying the navigate in the darkness by feeling desk, when your hand brushed up against a pair of scissors someone left out you hissed feeling them cut your palm, you could feel the blood dripping down you hand and decided screw this! you were going to leave the papers on the desk outside of the boss's office for him to find in the morning, when you noticed the door was open a crack. 

You could hear deep breathing, a woman gasping and grunts, your cheeks felt hot as you though Bakugou was getting frisky with one of his fans. *I never took him for that sort...* you were just going to pretend you didn't hear anything and walk away, but curiosity got the best of you, and with careful steps you crept toward the door and peeked in, and felt you stomach drop when you realized what was going on was not a wham-bam thank you ma'am situation, you threw your hand over your mouth when you saw Bakugou eyes glowing red had his fangs sunk into this woman's neck draining her of blood! Scared you were about to quietly back away from the door when you saw the blond blink pull away from the unconscious woman, sniff the air and... you ran before he could even turn his in the direction of the door, and made it on to the elevator just as a shock of blond hair rounded the corner.

The next morning Bakugou was on edge as he recalled the events last night, one minute he's feeding off some pushy fan-girl and the next, his senses were taken over by this amazing smell it was so enticing he forgot about his hunger and overwhelmed by the insistent need of find it's source... as Katsuki turned his attention to the door he saw someone dash and and he gave chase just in time to get a split second glimpse of a woman with {y/hc} before the elevator doors closed.  

{later after he sent that fan home via cab) 

Bakugou inspected his office and found a blood trail leading from random sidekick's towards his office the couple hurried drops towards the elevator, he curiously swiped his finger threw the blood on the desk where the trail began, licked it a content rumble left his throat, his inner monster purred. *Mate...mine* however that euphoric feeling he felt had soon soon worn off into frustration as the next morning rolled around he had been in the agency all day, and no one who came in today had that scent on them! 

The blond was pissed and ready to rip someone's head off, when he overheard two of his employees talking. "Hey where’s Y/n? I have to thank her for staying back and doing my extra work last night." the other employee shrugged. "She said she hurt her hand last night and was staying home." Neither had noticed the explosive blond who immediately went to his office and pulled your file out for your address, and he here was standing on your front porch, sniffing the air as a cocky smirk graced Katsuki's lips breathing in that sweet scent from last night. "Found you..." he purred. 

[shorkbrian]

OOOOO okok.... kirishima with a darling who’s his study partner by chance (college) and he just like,,, falls in love with them! but she have a boyfriend so :(((( but he decides the best idea is the take her by the hair and “lovingly” fuck his new little girlfriend, even though the cries pouring out her mouth are anything but... and he just. forces her to be his girlfriend and you’re just miserable babey

Bro bro bror bror b rorr bor rbro rbo

Prelude - He’s like a stereotypical jock, but is super kind and friendly and just a big HIMBO lololol.

Pairing - Kirishima X Reader

Prompt - At the top

Warnings -  NSFW, full non-con here folks. Kirishima doesn’t let reader tell him no. That is NOT cool y’all. Consent is always required.

Music -  https://youtu.be/2k5w6eTxGXk 

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- You’re good at most subjects but this one just really flies over your head. When you went to the teacher, she paired you up with the only other person in the class that seemed to be having trouble, Kirishima. The teacher figured that the two of you could work through the material together.

You didn’t mind. Kirishima seemed like a decent guy, even though he was very physically intimidating. He was on the football team, built like a literal brick wall, but his personality was sunshine and rainbows. The man always greeted you with the brightest smile when you showed up to study.

For the most part, the two of you struggled to get work done. Kirishima could do no more than three problems before getting frustrated or bored, and he’d start making funny faces at you, maybe kick your shins underneath the table to get you to pay attention to him. When you finally looked up to see him with his face contorted in the weirdest way possible, you’d burst out laughing. That’s how the two of you got kicked out the library for a month, had to meet at a coffeeshop to study.

Kirishima liked coffee so sweet that it made you sick, almost gagging after taking a sip of his drink when he offered. Likewise, Kirishima couldn’t stand your tea, said it tasted like “old lady water” and needed sugar. You learned a lot about each other, and eventually reached the point were you would consider the two of you to be friends.

You were friends. Until he decided you weren’t`

——

Today you two are in the library, both of you struggling over your worksheets. A tapping on your shoulder alerted you to the presence of your boyfriend, and you were promptly hopping to your feet, smiling and hugging your boyfriend. He wanted to come see you, spend his lunch break together, so you had told him to meet you in the library, where you and Kiri had rented a study room.

“Midoriya! Hi baby.”

With a kiss on the cheek, your boyfriend was b lushing, pulling out a chair at the table so he could sit down. “Hey, who’s this?”

He was gesturing to Kirishima, who was glaring at your boyfriend. That was odd. Usually the redhead had no problem meeting new people, maybe he was just grumpy because he was trying to study?

“Oh, this is my study buddy, Kiri. Kiri, this is my boyfriend, Midoriya!” Midoriya nodded at Kirishima, and Kiri gave a flick of his head in return, before hunching over to scribble furiously at his paper. Yeah, he was definitely irritated at having his studying interrupted. Unusual, but you figured you should be supportive of the redhead taking his studies seriously.

“Hey babe, let’s go eat out in the courtyard - I don’t wanna make Kiri uncomfortable.”

Your boyfriend nodded, getting up from the seat he had just plopped down in, before giving a sheepish wave to the as the two of you exited the room.

“I’ll be back, sorry!”

you whisper-yelled to Kirishima before the door swung shut.

There was small talk as you and your boyfriend made your way to the pretty courtyard of the college, filled with flowering trees and cozy benches for couples (like yourselves) to sit on.

It was peaceful, sitting there, chatting with your boyfriend while he shared his sandwich with you. He was working as an intern for a big engineering company, and you could tell he was happy about his work as he animatedly recounted what he had done so far that day, pausing every now and then to gulp down a bite of sandwich.

But as all good things must end, your boyfriend had to leave after his lunch break was up, checking the time on his watch and gasping as he realized he had spent way too much time talking to you.

He apologized profusely for his abrupt exit, giving you a brief, slightly messy press of his lips against yours before he gathered his bag, shoving the rest of his sandwich into his mouth. Midoriya waved, skipping backwards, making you chuckle when he tripped and almost fell.

You loved your boyfriend, thought of yourself as the luckiest girl for getting together with the kindest, sweetest man you had ever met.

——

Returning to the private study room, You were surprised to see Kirishima still hunched over his paper, still scratching out numbers. His grip was white-knuckled on the pencil.

“Uh, Kiri? You okay dude?”

“Yeah, it’s whatever, I’m fine.” He didn’t sound fine. The man sounded angry.

Figuring he just maybe needed some space, you shrugged “... I need to go get a book real quick. Need anything?”

“No.”  Was his short reply.

Kirishima was normally a bubbly, friendly person. Why was he so irritated all of a sudden? Did this have something to do with your boyfriend interrupting the study session? 

You pondered over this as you walked through the shelves, partly glad that you weren’t having to dodge other students. You and Kiri usually choose times that the library was relatively empty, just in case the redhead made you choke in laughter again. 

Finding the aisle your book should be in, you meandered slowly to the end, scanning the shelves. Ah! There it was, on one of the higher shelves - but luckily you could still reach if you went on your tippy-toes.

A  big hand slipped around your waist, and suddenly you felt cool air on your backside, as if someone had flipped up the edge of your skirt. You tried to whirl around, smack whichever dumb idiot thought it’d be funny to feel you up, but you were pushed up against the bookshelf before you had the chance, shelf almost rattling with the force.

“Hey—!” Another hand clamped over your mouth, smothering your rather loud protest. The giant hand covered more than half of your face, and you couldn’t help but gasp. Was this really happening? Were you really about to get groped by some meathead senior?

“I’m really disappointed (Y/N).”

Wait.

“I thought what we had was special, thought that I was the only one you looked at like that. That hurts.”

Kirishima?

The hand on your waist dipped lower, and yup - he had flipped your skirt up, was running his hand the top of your panties, feeling the fabric between his fingers. You struggled - tried to kick back, headbutt him, twist out of his grip - but the man was too big. He slipped a finger underneath the elastic waistband of your panties, pulled it back, let it go so it could snap against your skin; make you flinch.

“Newsflash (Y/N), your ‘boyfriend’ doesn’t actually love you. You could do so much better than a little Twink like him. You need a real man, someone who can take care of you and give you what you need, give you anything you want.” What was he talking about? The hand at your mouth was clamping your jaw shut, putting so much pressure against the lower half of your face that you couldn’t even open your mouth, just let out angry whines.  When his other hand traveled around to the front of your body, dancing over the flesh of your hip,  you wiggled, trying to put up a fight. It was useless.

Kirishima shoved his hand down your panties, groaning lowly into your ear when his fingers grazed the tuft of curls above your pussy, before dipping further down to stroke gently over your folds. You shivered, angry whines giving way to distressed whimpers, wanting to yell, scream for the librarian that you knew was at their desk. 

You were hanging on his arm, trying to pull his giant hand away from your face, but there was no point. The man spent hours in the gym, building up his muscles to make him better at football, and it coincidentally made him better at holding you against his body while he slipped a finger into your now-wet cunt.

The side of his thumb was flicking at your clit, his middle finger slowly dragging across your walls. You held back a groan when it thrusted in deeper, passing by your g-spot on the way in. Kirishima noticed.

“Did you get tired of waiting for me to make a move? So needy for a cock to fill you up that you ran and got a boyfriend?” What? You shook your head no, but his fingers clenched down tighter over your face, and you froze in pain.  “I was gonna be so romantic for you, get a bunch of flowers and one of those big stuffed bears. Ask you to be my girlfriend.  But you just couldn’t wait, could you? Had to go and ruin everything.”

His voice was low, his breath tickling your ear and making you shiver as he whispered, practically growling. You had never seem him irritated, let alone angry. You were scared. Another finger slipped into your pussy, and you keened, scrabbling at his arm at the sudden stretch. Kiri snickered.

“Gonna have to take a few more to get you ready for me babe, I’m not a little stick like your stupid excuse for a ’boyfriend’.”

Tears sprang to your eyes. You loved Midoriya, had ever since you met him. He was shy and nervous, but he was also sweet. Midoriya would never treat you like this, would always ask if you wanted to make each other feel good, ask before he so much as looked at you. Kirishima was a brute.

Another finger entered you, and while the stretch stung, you also felt pleasantly full. His thumb was still moving over your clit, and with a muffled wail your hips twitched in the air, grinding down on his thumb as you suddenly came.

Kirishima didn’t stop. He huffed out a quiet laugh, gave your a wet kiss against your neck. “See? Knew you were meant for me. I love you baby, gonna make you feel so good.”

Blinking, you were trying to come down from the height of your pleasure, flinching away from Kiri as his fingers slipped out of you. Oh god, you didn’t want him to keep going. Muffled cries left your lips, desperately trying to get Kirishima to stop, slow down, please wait, but the man was determined. Your panties were pulled to the side, and something big nudged against your entrance. 

“Sorry baby-“ Kiri grunted, beginning to inch his way inside your tight pussy. “You’re just so sexy ’n pretty, can’t hold myself back.”

The mushroom head of his cock popped past your opening, and you squealed in pain. You were wailing behind his hand, and the man could feel the tears dripping onto his fingers as he held your mouth shut, could feel your lips moving as you cried “Stop, stop! Hurts, oh god Kiri it hurts.“

“Shit, baby I’m sorry, ‘m sorry.”  Without moving, you heard the sound of him spitting, and then felt his hand bump against where he was connected to you. He had spit in his palm, and was the rest of his girthy cock with the slickness, practically jerking himself off into your cunt. You cried harder.

“Shh, shhh it’s okay. I’m gonna take care of you. You’ll get to cum again, don’t worry. Bet your shrimpy little bitchboy never had you cumming twice, did he?” His voice turned sour at the end of his sentence, filled with venom at the mere mention of your boyfriend. 

Kirishima moaned, wet hand coming to rest on your hip as he slowly, slowly began inching forward, forcing his cock into your body. It still hurt, but not as much as it had at first - the slide easier with the addition of the man’s spit. It felt like he was pushing himself in forever, his cock could’ve been in your throat by the time his balls pressed flush against you

. He was bottomed out, and you were gasping, struggling to suck in air around your sobs and his giant hand. The redhead stilled, allowing the two of you to adjust to the sensation. While he waited, Kiri brought his hand up to your hair, sweeping it away from your neck so he could kiss the tender flesh their, hair still in his fist.

“You’re so good for me, look at you takin’ all of my cock. Fuck, fuck - you feel so warm.” He whined between kisses, pulling your hair to tilt your head back as he kissed towards the front of your neck. You shivered as the pain zinged through your scalp, sharp and prickly.

The man pressed up behind you had waited long enough. With no warning, he drew back his hips - cock sliding out of you. He was so /big/.  You wished he had prepared you more, at least then you wouldn’t be sore as he pressed back into you, setting up a rhythm of slow, long thrusts.

He was pulling your head back by your hair, making your head rest against his shoulder against your will, your hands still clutching desperately at his arm. Shoved against the bookshelf like this wasn’t very comfortable, but neither was getting your pussy wrecked by a man twice your size. 

Gradually, Kiri’s pace increased, your pussy working to lubricate itself and making each rapid thrust end with a squelching sound and the slap of his plump balls against the top of your clit.  Truthfully, Midoriya had never fucked you this good, but you were fine with the young man’s sexual ability. He would finish inside you, then lick out his cum until you were squirming and writhing on his tongue, and then Midoriya suck at your clit, shove his fingers into you and fuck you fast until you squirted, leaving the both of you in bliss.

Kirishima had carnal desire, sucking dark marks into the column of your throat, accidentally tugging your hair on each thrust, making you climb further onto your tiptoes to try and alleviate the pressure. He was getting rougher, throaty moans being punched out of him on each thrust - the man tried to quiet himself down by burying his face into the crook of your neck, biting down onto your skin. It just made you sob harder, the pain and pleasure mixing and sending you hurtling towards another orgasm.

And then he slammed into you so hard that your feet lifted off the ground, your body held up by his hand in your hair and the cock filling your pussy. A wail escaped you, his hand silencing it, and you came, twitching in the big man’s hold. 

“Oh, fuck, oh my god baby you’re so amazing oh my god, oh my god-“ Your toes brushed against the ground again. Kirishima was slouching his back so he could pummel into your smaller form even harder, babbling into your shoulder as his hips stuttered when he reached his own orgasm.

You sobbed as you felt his warmth filling your insides. 

Kirishima stayed there, leaning his head against your shoulder while he sucked in air, breathing raggedly. On every sob, you could feel his length inside you, and you were so disgusted.

His breathing evened out. Your sobbing quieted down into measly sniffles. Kiri let go of your hair, scratching at your scalp to alleviate the stinging sensation that he knew he must’ve caused by pulling on the strands.

“I’m gonna take my hand off your mouth now, can you be quiet for me?” You nodded, and the brushing grip was released from your face. 

You stayed silent, hand coming up to massage at your jaw where his big fingers had dug into the tender flesh.

“Good. Wanna go back to my dorm to clean up?”

Shaking your head, you barely choking out a panicked “N-no!”, almost forgetting to be quiet in your haste to respond.  Kirishima sighed behind you, pressing his chest against your back as he did so.

“Baby, I said I was gonna take care of you. I wanna take care of you. We’re going back to my dorm.”

He slowly slipped out of you, wincing as the air hit his dick.  With his length leaving you empty, Kiri smoothed your panties back into pale, then wiped his cock on the underside of your skirt before tucking it back into his pants. You wished you hadn’t chosen a skirt that morning when you were getting dressed.

Without another word, Kiri gently turned you around to face him, his eyes filled with a warmth that they always seemed to hold whenever the two of you locked eyes during a study session. His big arms encircled you, pulling you into his broad chest as he squeezed, the hug surprisingly gentle, almost calming. It would have been an amazing hug, if only the man hadn’t raped you beforehand.

  A jacket was being wrapped around  the bottom half of your legs, Kiri securing it so that you wouldn’t flash anyone when he picked you up in his arms, carrying you bridal-style. You rubbed at your eyes, trying to scrub away the tears as your ex-friend carried you towards the library exit, smiling down at you fondly.

“I love you, you know that? I’m gonna take such good care of you baby.” You ignored him.

“And don’t worry about your old boyfriend, I’m going to talk to him and break the news that you aren’t interested in him anymore. You’ve got something much better now.”

[xjoonchildx]

guarded | jhs x reader | chapter one: fan mail

summary: you’ve tried to separate yourself from your infamous crime family, but a new case has your carefully-constructed world crashing down around you.  now you have to figure out how to heal old wounds and handle the new man who enters your orbit.

pairing: hoseok x reader

genre: mafia AU, E2L, slow burn, tsundere, eventual smut

rating: 18+

word count: 2.8K

Chapter 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | EPILOGUE

***************************

You stare at the words for a moment before folding the paper in half and slipping it back into the envelope you pulled it from.  

Honestly?  

It’s not the first time you’ve gotten a threat. It happens from time to time in this line of work.

But this note plucks a chord of anxiety inside of you. Must be the eleven missed calls you suspect go hand-in-hand with your little love letter. Your phone hasn’t stopped buzzing for a half-hour now.

“Are you okay?”

Hyejin’s voice filters through your thoughts. She’s taken stock of the strange look that crosses your face in the split-second before you school your features back into a mask of calm.

She’s observant like that.

“Oh yeah, it’s nothing,” you say, shaking your head.  “Just some fan mail.”  

Your phone buzzes against the papers on your desk -- again -- and Hyejin raises an eyebrow.

Make that twelve.

“Tell you what,” she says, standing to stretch her legs. “I’m ready to go blind from reading these files and I could use an Americano.  You want one?”

“Actually yes,” you exhale.  “That’s exactly what I need. You’re a lifesaver.”

She gives you one last are you sure you don’t need to tell me anything? look before opening the door to your office.  You reassure her with a soft smile but the second the door to your office closes, you blow out one long, heavy breath and reach for your phone.

you: what the hell? [ 3:15 PM ]

namjoon: this can’t wait [ 3:15 PM ]

you: clearly [ 3:16 PM ]

namjoon: come in ASAP [ 3:16 PM ]

You groan.

Namjoon knows you avoid that place at all costs.

It’s not a good look for you to be seen there -- and so as a rule -- you’re not.  Your brother is usually understanding about your stance on the matter. But it’s not like him to push so there’s probably a damned good reason why he’s summoning you to his office like some wayward employee.

You glance back at the stack of files on your desk, riddled with notes and highlights.  Even after a morning spent tag-teaming with Hyejin, there’s still a shitload of work to be done. But then you look back at that envelope sitting on your desk and pick up your phone again.

you: give me thirty minutes [ 3:19 PM ]

namjoon: okay [ 3:19 PM ]

Paperwork is going to have to wait.

*****************************

You’re not a moron.  

You know what people say about your family, what they say about you.

You know what they whisper when you show up to charity galas and fundraising dinners. You know what they murmur the second their false smiles fall and you turn your back. They say that the money that paid for your prep schools and top-notch legal education is blood money; paid for by one of Seoul’s oldest and most powerful crime networks.  They say that you took a job prosecuting crime to assuage for your family’s sins.

They’re not wrong.

Your father -- your cruel, unsophisticated father -- shelled out top dollar to put you in fancy schools and fancy clothes and fancy riding lessons.  He threw elaborate birthday parties where he showered you with extravagant gifts in front of guests who were only there to celebrate because they feared turning down the invitation.

So others saw your material good fortune and mistook you for a pampered mafia princess. None of them had to come home every day to the stench of death and destruction. None of them had to endure the gossip and the looks and the cold shoulders.

That was a burden you shared with only one other person.

You and Namjoon huddled together during your lavish and turbulent childhood, leaning on one another for strength because no one else understood. He was the only safe harbor you had in the storm you both lived every day.

And then you left.

You walked away from your father and the Gajog and crossed the country to study law.  Far from the vicious gossip and prying eyes and violent drama that always awaited you in Seoul.  You walked away and decided that you weren’t going to live that life anymore.  

But you also walked away from Namjoon.

Now it’s a cold comfort, seeing your brother seated so naturally at the throne of power your father vacated when he died.  The old-school brute-force organization your father ran for decades is a thing of the past.  In its place, a well-oiled, highly-organized machine -- making far more money and far fewer mistakes.  

Namjoon single-handedly pulled the crime syndicate into a new era, dusted it off and dressed it up.  He legitimized parts of the business, took up residence in one of the city’s most expensive buildings, and basically dared law enforcement to come get him.

They still haven’t.

And there isn’t a day that Namjoon doesn’t cross your mind.  

There isn’t a day that you don’t pray that the menace that existed inside your father never takes root inside of your brother.  You pray that he can shoulder the burden of his responsibilities without rotting from the inside out.  

If anyone can, you tell yourself, it’s him.

**********************

Namjoon cuts an imposing figure behind his grandiose wooden desk.

He’s seated when his assistant first opens the door to his secure private office, but as soon as you follow her inside he makes to stand.

He looks so tall now, you think -- as though it’s been years since you’ve seen him.  

In reality, it’s only been a few months since your last brief encounter, but it’s still hard sometimes to recognize the handsome, polished man in front of you as the kid you grew up with. You’re hit with a pang of regret that it’s been so long since you’ve seen one another face-to-face.

Two men stand guard on either side of Namjoon’s desk, which doesn’t surprise you. Your brother is always surrounded by guards these days.  

The only one you recognize is Min Yoongi, who gives a slight bow in your direction as you cross the broad expanse of the office.  You’re certain you’ve never seen the second man, who stands eerily still on your brother’s other side.  You can feel the stranger’s stare from a distance and avert your eyes.

You bow to Namjoon and take a seat in the plush chair facing his desk.  A fond look passes over his features but when he opens his mouth to speak his tone is businesslike, serious.

“I know you don’t like coming in here,” he begins carefully, “and so I have to apologize for asking you to make an exception.  I hope you understand this can’t be helped.”

“Yes, of course,” you say softly. “Sorry it took me a while.  I’m buried with a new case.”

Namjoon nods.

“That case is the reason why we’ve run into a bit of trouble in the past few days,” he admits. “Some of our friends across town are pretty upset about it.  Apparently very agitated and hoping to leverage the fact that you’ve been assigned to this case to their advantage.”

“I see,” you murmur.

You knew the men you’d been assigned to build a weapons trafficking case against were part of a rival organization -- but on paper they were low-level foot soldiers, considered expendable in a business like theirs.  Why the Ssijog were so worried about losing a couple of nobodies from their ranks was a bit puzzling.

“I guess that explains this,” you say, reaching into your bag for the letter delivered to your office.  

You hand it to Namjoon and he reads the words with a tight expression before turning it over to the man you don’t recognize.  It’s a relief when the stranger’s focus moves away from you and onto that paper. You take the opportunity to get a closer look at him.

The first word that comes to mind is sharp.

Everything about the man is sharp -- from his meticulously tailored suit to his severe jawline to the angles of his body.  Intense dark eyes set in honey gold skin and black hair carefully styled off of his face. You’re caught staring when his eyes snap up from the paper and back to you.

You clear your throat, gaze darting back to your brother.

“They want you to make this go away.”

You sigh.

“I can’t do that. I don’t have that kind of authority. And besides, it would attract all the wrong kinds of attention to me and -- “ you pause, choose your next words carefully, “ -- to my ties to this organization.”

Namjoon concedes your point with a slow bob of his head.

“Right.  So we have a problem,” he admits.  “Because the message we’re getting is that they’re willing to do whatever it takes to get what they want.  And it’s been made quite clear to me that hurting you is not off the table.”

You take in a deep breath.

“This is Jung Hoseok,” Namjoon says after a short silence, motioning to the stranger at his side. You straighten when the man acknowledges you with a barely-there bow.  

“I’ve assigned him to your detail.”

“Detail,” you repeat slowly.  “Like a bodyguard.”

“Exactly like that.”

“Namjoon, I -- “ you look away from the man to turn your attention back to your brother,  “-- I can’t have one of your guys following me around.  People are going to talk.”

“Amsaja,” he sighs, “They talk anyway.”

You bristle at his use of your childhood nickname.  

You know it’s meant as an endearment but it still feels infantilizing in front of his men -- one of whom hasn’t seen you in years, one of whom knows nothing about you at all.  You’re a grown woman, a successful prosecutor, and more than just Kim Namjoon’s little sister.

“Joon -- “

There is annoyance behind the way you fire off his name and one of your brother’s eyebrows lifts in warning.  A silent reminder that in this room, in this building, in this realm, he is the absolute authority.  You swallow back the argument on the tip of your tongue.

“Namjoon,” you start again, this time with a restrained calm.  “Please. Let’s have this conversation in private.”

He drums his fingers across the surface of his wooden desk before nodding his agreement and raising a hand to motion his guards out the door.  You wait until both men are gone and the heavy door to Namjoon’s office clicks shut to speak again.

“You’re putting me in a terrible position here,” you exhale. “I’ve worked so hard to -- distance myself.  I can’t walk around with a reminder of my family history at my heels.”

Your brother stands from his seat and walks to an ornate sideboard, pours liquor from a heavy crystal decanter into a highball glass.  He takes a slow drink before speaking.

“You are worried about your image; I’m worried about your safety.  Those two concerns are not equal. Not to me.”

Your face heats at the kernel of truth in your brother’s assessment.  

Certainly, it’s about how it looks, but it’s so much more than that. It’s about the life you’ve worked so hard to build away from the drama surrounding your family name.  It’s about a future that depends on the burial of your past.

Namjoon leans against his heavy wooden desk, arms crossed.

“You should know me by now,” he continues.  “If I thought these were empty words, I wouldn’t have bothered you with them.”

“I know that,” you admit quietly.  Doesn’t make the pill any easier to swallow, though.

“Hoseok is under orders to stay with you at all times. Obviously, he won’t be physically at your side while you’re working, but he will be close by.  And he will be staying at your apartment for the time being.”

You blink.  “In my apartment?”

A flash of irritation crosses your brother’s face. “Yes, in your apartment.  I’m privy to information you don’t have.”  He takes a long drink from the highball glass.  “It’s necessary until we have this situation under control.”

“I don’t know this man,” you argue, and that eyebrow lifts again at the rising heat in your tone. “Can’t you give me Yoongi or Seokjin or someone else?”

“No.”

“Thanks for considering that, Joon.”

You don’t even bother to hide your displeasure now, climbing out of the plush chair and walking over to the massive window that makes up the back wall of your brother’s office. You look down at the street. From this height, the cars below look like toys and the people look like ants.  

Namjoon joins you in front of the window, drink in hand.

“I don’t want to fight with you, I want to protect you. Jung Hoseok has worked for me three years now and he spent many more years serving in the military.  He is the man I want for this assignment and I need you to trust me on that, too.”

You say nothing, staring out the window and feeling suddenly exhausted.  You hate everything about today -- the letter, the case, this arrangement you now have to endure.  You hate that this is the first real conversation you’ve had with your brother in months and you’re locking horns.  

“Okay,” you whisper after a while, reluctant to let the tension escalate. Your brother has asked so little of you since you severed ties with the Gajog -- and effectively, with him.  You swallow past the taste of guilt when you turn to look him in the eye.

“I’ll play ball, Jaegyueo.”

Your brother seems to soften when you use his childhood nickname in return, shoulders relaxing as he takes another sip from the highball and looks out over the city he basically runs.  

“Thank you, Amsaja.”

*************************

Hoseok

“Has she seen this?”

Hoseok stares down at the glossy photograph in his hands.  

There’s little to be gleaned from the details in the picture.  There are no shadows, no reflections, no personal items to give away any clues as to who took it or when.

You are asleep, one bare shoulder peeking out from underneath your plush bedding -- your hair spilling out onto your pillow. You appear blissfully unaware of the danger standing just a few feet away.

“Hell no,” Namjoon exhales.  “And I would like to keep it that way. She’d probably never sleep again if she saw that shit.”

Hoseok hands the photograph back.

“I need the two of you to figure out who got into her apartment.  And then I need you to bring him here.”

Namjoon doesn’t finish that train of thought -- he doesn’t have to.  Hoseok and Yoongi hear clearly everything he hasn’t said.  

“We’ll find him,” Yoongi vows, and Hoseok nods his agreement.  “It’s gonna be handled.”

Namjoon scrubs a hand down his jaw, eyes still glued to the picture on his desk.

He’s an uncharacteristically even-tempered boss, particularly in this line of work.  Seeing him this unnerved is unnerving to Hoseok, who’s seen him handle countless shitty situations with an unnatural calm.

“She’s my sister,” Namjoon says quietly.  “I don’t expect any of you to understand our dynamic, but I need you to know that her safety is my top priority.”

“Understood,” Hoseok murmurs and in that moment, the heavy door to the office opens wide. Namjoon shoves the photograph into his desk drawer.  

Hoseok studies you as you trail Namjoon’s assistant across the length of this massive office.

The first word that comes to mind is small.

You’re much smaller than Hoseok imagined you’d be, basing that assumption almost entirely on Namjoon’s tall and solid frame.  Physically, you are nearly the opposite of your brother, delicate features set in smooth skin, any appearance of height owed directly to the high-heeled shoes you’ve carefully matched to your business suit.  

Hoseok notes that you have the same stubborn set to your jaw, though -- a defense mechanism that slips momentarily when you lock eyes with your brother.  He catches the brief flash of sadness in your face before you manage it away.

In the years he’s been with the Gajog, he’s only heard your name a handful of times --  almost always followed by hushed exchanges and pained expressions.  Never once has anyone breathed your name in front of Namjoon, though.  That appears to be an invisible line everyone understands not to cross.

But now you’re here, in the flesh. One piece of the puzzle revealed.

Hoseok watches your exchange with Namjoon with curiosity. It’s not the easy back-and-forth one would expect to see between a pair of siblings -- but there is an underlying affection between the two of you. A quiet respect.

Amsaja, Namjoon had called you.  Lioness.

Hoseok doesn’t see a lioness when he looks at you, though.  

He sees a rich girl desperate to prove how much better she is than her own flesh and blood.  He sees a social climber so eager to make a name for herself in this city that she walked away from her own brother to make it happen.  

This is the moment that Hoseok decides that you’re not the kind of person he could ever respect.

Because unlike you, he would never put ambition above loyalty.

Never.

**********************

tag list:

@yoongbug @brilliantlybasicb @lemonjoonah @illnevertrustmyselfagain​@sunkissed75 @taetaewonderland @shadowhale​

[inkweaver22-blr]

Welcome to lucky chapter 13!

A few announcements before we begin!

First, we got fan art! Shout out to @ooflifeshard for their art of the Jin/Yin/Tang fusion!

Second, I post extra thoughts on my writing process and the chapter in general on my Tumblr! Look up the tag Fanfiction Live Blogging to read them!

Now let’s get on with the story!

AO3 Link

<Previous | First | Next>

Scattered Cicadas - Chapter Thirteen: Aspects of Arachnids

The Spider Clan is made up of some interesting people. That includes MK this time.

----------

“So what did you want to talk about Mr. Tang?”

They were taking a walk through a secluded park. Tang had asked to speak with the young man privately once he had woken in this cycle to address a recent memory he had received.

“I wanted to apologize to you, MK,” Tang said. MK tilted his head in confusion.

“What for?”

“For the way I treated you last week.”

MK tensed.

“I- I don’t know what you mean,” he said.

“MK.” Tang turned and placed his hands on MK’s shoulders, looking him in the eye. “It’s okay. I know.”

“Know what?” MK was trembling now. He avoided Tang’s gaze, wide eyes darting around as if to look for a place to hide.

Tang gave him a reassuring squeeze and kind smile.

“I know you are the spider demon we saw.”

Last week had been before Tang had woken in the cycle. They had all rushed over to where MK had been fighting a demon alone only to find a spider demon they had never seen before wearing MK’s jacket and bandana while holding the Monkey King’s staff.

The group had, predictably, reacted with hostility. They threatened the demon and attacked him. They hadn’t been able to actually harm him before he got away, and MK had shown up perfectly fine the next day.

Physically at least.

When Tang had gone over the memories earlier this morning, it was obvious to him who the demon actually was. It certainly wasn’t the first time MK was something other than human.

He was also able to see the signs of emotional distress MK was showing over the past week. It was clear that their reaction to his true form was devastating to him.

Tang intended to fix that.

“I didn’t figure it out until this morning,” Tang said when it was clear MK had frozen in fear and wasn’t going to say anything. He pulled him into a tight hug. “I’m so sorry I didn’t see it right away. You are very important to me and I am ashamed to have made you feel like you were unwanted.”

“You- You don’t mind?” MK clung tightly to the scholar, as if afraid he’d vanish at any moment.

“Of course I don’t. What you are or what you look like isn’t important to me. What matters is who you are and I happen to care about the person you are quite a lot.”

Tang held the young man as he trembled in his embrace. He pulled away after a few minutes, wiping his eyes and giving Tang a watery smile.

“Thank you, Tang.”

“Any time, MK.”

“Do the others know?”

“I haven’t told them anything,” Tang said as they continued their walk. “This is your secret and you should be the one to reveal it when you’re ready.”

“But what if they react like last time?” MK kicked a rock out of his path and seemed to fold into himself. “What if they don’t want to be friends with something like me?”

“First off, that would be pretty hypocritical of them considering both Pigsy and Sandy are technically demons as well and Mei is descended from a dragon. That actually makes me the odd one out in our group as the only human.”

“Huh. Didn’t think of that,” MK said.

“Second, I know they all care about you, MK. I sincerely doubt they wouldn’t be able to look past appearances and see the person we all love.”

“Love?” MK stared wide eyed at Tang.

“I like to think of us as a family,” Tang said. “Even if we aren’t the typical kind, families love each other, and you are a part of that.”

“Family…” MK smiled sadly into the distance. “It would be nice to have more family.”

“There is no ‘would be’ about it.” Tang slung his arm around MK’s shoulders. “We are family and you’re stuck with us no matter what.”

MK gave him a wide grin, leaning into the sideways hug as they continued on their path.

“Aren’t you curious by what I meant by ‘more family’?”

“Of course I am,” Tang said. “But it’s not my place to pry. If you want to talk about that then I’d be more than willing to listen.”

“Oh, well okay,” MK said, perking up a bit. He began to enthusiastically speak about his other family, but never giving any names.

Tang was able to piece together who he was talking about rather easily.

The Spider Queen was his mother. It wasn’t much of a surprise for Tang as she had filled that role for MK in the past, but never quite so literally. From what MK was saying, she seemed to still be that lovingly supportive yet protective type that he had encountered in previous cycles.

The fact that she was a much more active villain in this cycle that MK constantly fought was not addressed.

Huntsman was ‘Uncle H’. He seemed to be the type of person that gave small children lessons on knife wielding just so they could protect themselves. MK had learned all his combat skills in his spider form from him.

Huntsman was certainly a focused and skilled combatant, but, as his many friendships with Sandy across time showed, he also knew how to enjoy the quieter moments in life.

That left Goliath as ‘Uncle G’. The large spider may seem like just a brute who relied on his strength, but Tang had witnessed his soft side a few times. MK spoke fondly of the lullabies Goliath had sang when he was still little as well as his delicious cooking.

Tang wondered how it compared to Pigsy’s creations and mused on how he could try and get a cook off set up.

MK did not speak of Syntax. That made sense as it was still somewhat early in the cycle and the scientist hadn’t really joined up with the spiders until after Demon Bull King’s second invasion.

Tang did his best to recall what he knew about the man. They had been friends and colleagues once in a cycle where they had been professors at the city university.

Syntax could be a bit standoffish to those he didn’t know. Once he warmed up to you though, he loved to go on long tangents about chemistry, biology, and computer engineering. He could also be surprisingly thoughtful, having dropped by several times with an extra cup of coffee on those late nights Tang had been stuck in his office grading papers.

Tang never knew why he started working for the Spider Queen. The scientist had always been a bit ambitious, so he supposed working on something as unique as a serum using bits of the Monkey King’s power was more than enough to sway him.

It was a shame the serum was then used against him and he seemed to lose all memories of his human life.

Tang forced himself back into the present as MK finished up an anecdote about Huntsman and Goliath nearly panicking after MK had fallen asleep in his hiding spot during a game of hide and seek.

“They all sound wonderful,” Tang said once MK had finished.

“Yeah, they are.” MK sighed wistfully. “I haven’t spoken to them in a while though.”

“Why not?”

“It’s… Complicated.”

Tang could certainly understand that considering how they fought each other on a nearly weekly basis.

“Well whatever the reason, it sounds like they care about you just as much as we do,” Tang said. “I’m sure they’d be more than happy to welcome you back into their lives.”

“I know that,” MK said with a huff. “I’m just not sure they'd approve of me being the Monkey King’s successor.”

“I see.”

Tang did see. He had been a part of demon families before and knew how leaving one’s blood to side with an enemy could tear relationships apart. He hoped that wouldn’t happen here with MK.

“In any case, I just hope you know that you have people that care about you and if you ever need help to just ask, okay?”

“Yeah, I know. Thanks Tang.” MK gave him another smile before frowning in thought. “I’m still not sure if I want to tell the others though.”

“That’s perfectly fine,” Tang said. “If you aren’t ready then you aren’t ready. I won’t say anything to anyone before you do.”

“Really?”

“I promise.”

The rest of the walk was spent discussing lighter subjects such as the latest Monkey Cop movie and which types of noodles were superior.

Tang decided to not bring up his curse this cycle. He knew he could get around the memory seal by simply stating he had a curse but not exactly its effects, but MK already had quite a lot to deal with this time. He didn’t want to add on to that stress with something that couldn’t be fixed.

He hoped that the Spider Clan would come to accept MK as he was, successor to the Monkey King and all. Not just for his sake either, as Tang could already feel four spots slowly opening up in his heart where he kept his love for his family.

It would be hard to bring them into the fold. Much harder than Macaque, the twins, or even the Demon Bull Family.

But Tang was patient.

He would use this cycle to get to know the spiders better. They were already MK’s family this time around.

Perhaps, in time, they could become his as well.

----------

Things went to Hell rather quickly.

New Years went the same as usual, but this time with the added horror of a mutated Macaque.

The shadow demon had been willingly experimented on by Syntax after he had failed to steal the Monkey King’s powers from MK. He now sported an extra set of arms and eyes, had lavender fur, and was in constant pain from the modifications. Wukong had offered him sanctuary, and Macaque had accepted.

MK hadn’t taken it well when he learned that it was his mother who had convinced Macaque to go through with the procedure.

Now something even worse was happening. This was a cycle that not only changed MK’s background, but someone else’s as well.

Lady Bone Demon was much more impulsive this cycle.

She had attacked them all directly this time, before even gathering up the artifacts she needed. They had all been overwhelmed pretty quickly and everyone except MK had been captured. She had then given him an ultimatum.

Give her the Monkey King’s power, or MK’s family would perish.

Lady Bone Demon then ‘graciously’ gave MK twenty four hours to think about it before teleporting away with her captives.

“Hey, where are you taking him?!”

Tang glanced up as he realized that he hadn’t been placed in the same cell as his family. Pigsy and Mei glared at the skeleton guards while Sandy tended to the unconscious Wukong and Macaque.

“Boss only wants five to a cell,” guard one said.

“Hope your friend here isn’t afraid of spiders,” guard two mocked.

Tang blinked at that as the others began to protest loudly. The guards simply laughed and led him away.

Well, he had wanted to get to know the Spider Clan better this cycle, hadn’t he?

After being marched down many winding corridors, Tang was thrown unceremoniously into a different cell.

Tang picked himself up and was confronted with the scowling faces of the Spider Queen and her entourage. They had certainly looked like they had seen better days.

After demanding why he was there, they had dismissed him and went back to trying to come up with a way to escape.

They had mused about eating him for a bit, Huntsman even going as far as to restrain him and brandishing a knife, before Tang had been forced to break his promise to MK. They were skeptical at first, but once Tang began telling the stories he had heard from MK, they believed him.

Spider Queen was emotionally distraught at the thought of harming her baby, but became more resolved than ever to beat Lady Bone Demon once she realized they were being used as hostages against her son.

Huntsman had been a bit more accepting, bragging about how the only reason MK had beaten them so often was from all the training he had given him. Goliath had just asked if he was eating well.

Syntax had been standing off to the side looking uncomfortable before Tang assured him that MK would be more than happy to get to know him.

The Spider Clan had invited Tang into their scheming quickly afterwards. None of their plans were very feasible, but Tang felt his connection to the four grow stronger.

Strange were the bonds you could make when in prison.

Before they could act on any of their plans, the twenty four hours were up and they were whisked away by the magic of their captor.

Tang opened his eyes to find the ten of them suspended in the air by blue ropes as Lady Bone floated in front of them. On the ground was a horrified looking MK.

“Now it is time you choose,” she said. She reached out and grabbed Tang and Spider Queen by their arms, pulling them forwards. “Your powers? Or your family?”

“Don’t listen to her, baby,” Spider Queen called out. “We’ll be fine! Just get out of here!”

“M-mom?!” MK’s mouth had dropped at being recognized.

“Sorry, MK. I broke my promise,” Tang said. “To be fair, your family was planning on eating me before I told them.”

“We said we were sorry about that-”

“ENOUGH!” Lady Bone Demon’s bellow shook the ground. “What is your decision?!”

“I- I can’t-” MK was trembling as he gripped his staff tightly.

“Wrong answer.”

Tang and Spider Queen screamed as they each had one of their arms shattered in her grip. Lady Bone Demon tossed them behind her, the blue ropes re-materializing to bind them as she summoned a large scythe.

“One last chance.” She pulled back the weapon, preparing to strike. “Give me the Monkey King’s power!”

MK roared in rage and seemed to explode into gold, purple, and green light.

Tang gasped in pain as he tried to stay awake. He stared in shock as the light expanded and formed into a giant figure.

Tang had seen the giant form that Wukong would occasionally become to take on much more powerful opponents. Macaque had access to this power as well and so would MK sometimes. It had no official name, but a scroll he had read many cycles ago had described it in a way that Tang couldn’t help but agree with.

Aspects of Destruction.

It resembled MK’s spider form, but with his human half looking more like a monkey’s instead. He had four arms now and each one held a copy of the Monkey King’s staff. The twelve eyes glowed with a burning green malice as they glared at Lady Bone Demon.

Faster than he could blink, Tang watched as MK swung one of his staffs and batted the white demon away from them. MK roared and leapt after her.

The pain from having his bones crushed soon became too much and Tang passed out.

----------

Tang woke up on Sandy’s airship.

He learned it was a few days later. MK hadn’t been able to defeat Lady Bone Demon, but had managed to buy them all the time to escape. They had also managed to pick up Red Son somewhere along the way.

Now, all twelve of them were out of the city looking for a way to defeat her.

The Spider Clan had seemed to integrate easily into their group over the next few weeks.

Spider Queen had already gotten to know Macaque over the course of the experiments, but once Wukong decided to go through the same procedure and gained two extra pairs of arms, she seemed to start flirting with the both of them.

Neither monkey seemed bothered by this and flirted right back.

Huntsman had decided Mei needed proper weapons training with her sword and whenever he wasn’t giving her pointers was drinking tea with Sandy.

Goliath shared cooking duty with Pigsy. The pair gave each other tips and techniques and their meals only became tastier from the collaboration.

Syntax had seemed a bit lost at first, but after completing one of the internet memes MK had quoted, became fast friends with him. He even got to have stimulating scientific discussions with Red Son.

Tang sighed in contentment at dinner one evening as he listened to the conversations around him.

He had never thought he would have longed for a large family, but this just felt right to him.

Tang hoped he would get to experience it more often in future cycles.

----------

The Spider Clan joins the ranks!

I think that leaves only two characters left out of Tang’s family. Considering who they are, I doubt that will happen any time soon.

This chapter takes place in @strange-lace's amazing Spider Monkie AU! It has some great angst and fluff as well as absolutely lovely spider-monkey designs for Macaque and Wukong! Go check it out!

Now technically this AU doesn't have a kaiju form for MK, but I wanted to introduce the concept to the story and it didn't fit anywhere in the coming chapters.

There’s going to be some plot in the next chapter so look forward to it! Until next time!

[liltaz-asatreat]

5

From this ask game here! (<- still accepting!!)

5. Do you have any writing superstitions? What are they and why are they 100% true?

I don't think I really have any writing superstitions? Like, I guess I read in a tumblr post about how if you're stuck in a piece of writing, if you count 10 sentences backward, usually that's the offending sentence that stopped the flow of your writing. And I've tried that, and it really is true, but I have the problem that after I've made it 10 sentences into a thought, I've already committed to where I want to take the scene, and I have no idea how to go back and write myself out of it and better get to where I want to go, so usually I just try to brute force my way through lol :/ I feel like that really hinders me though, and I need to get better and being able to go back and change things lol

It's supposed to work with academic writing too I think, but I didn't see the text post until after I dropped out of school, so I don't really have any academic style pieces to practice that with

I saw another text post a while ago, or it might have been in the same thread, anyway, it gave suggestions on if you're stuck in a scene, it could help by changing up a few things. I need to go back and find it because I forgot most of them, but one of the ones I remember that I'm really excited to try out when I get the chance is changing the weather because that just seems really smart and creative and helps ground the characters into the setting. I feel like it'd really help if they had to deal with whatever weather is going on plus whatever they're doing, and there's so many ways you could use it for thematic effect too

I guess the only superstition I have that I came up with for myself though, if you can call it that, is that writing by hand gives you a much more grounded and emotional connection to whatever you're writing. I've given up writing prose by hand though because I can't write fast enough for my brain, and it gets painful and tiring after a while, but I usually write my ideas and plans for my original writing out on paper because they're things that need more work than just popping out a short ficlet for a prompt fill or something, and it gives me a physical copy of something I can go back too, I can carry the notebook(s) with me wherever I go, and it grounds me in the idea and helps me develop it and get more attached to it.

I also write my poetry by hand because I need that kind of connection to make the words flow and make sense, and I can't get that just looking at a screen. When I write poetry, I feel the words in my hands and I create a direct connection from the feelings I'm trying to convey, and often times process and release, to the paper, and it's a much more personal and private and forgiving place to hold them than a computer screen. Poetry for me is a very sensory heavy experience, and I've tried doing it on the computer or on my phone a couple of times, but it's not the same, and I have a harder time connecting ideas and making the words flow too. It's easier writing prose because I don't need to feel the words as much physically, but I need that direct connection for poetry and the beginnings and planning stages of ideas that I want to go back to for longer works, especially original pieces because I don't have the background knowledge of how things work like I do for fanfiction

[todisturbtheuniverse]

FIC: Adjacent Truths

Rating: M Fandom: Stardew Valley Pairing: Shane/Female Farmer, Shane & Jas Tags: Depression, Suicidal Thoughts, Friendship, Pre-Relationship Word Count: 1900 Summary: Jas overheard something Shane can't take back, and it's eating him alive. The farmer notices. Also on AO3. Notes: Post-4 Heart Event—a direct sequel of it, if you will. Content warning for suicidal ideation.

When Jas had still been just a baby, Charlotte had told Shane that something changes in your brain after you have a kid. Hormones, chemicals, neurons firing, all fine-tuning, honing in on the sound of the baby's cry, making interpretations on an instinctual level. He'd panicked when Jas had started crying apparently unprovoked in his arms, but Charlotte hadn't even twitched. "She's just hungry," she'd said, with her tired-happy smile.

"She seems mad about it," Shane had said, looking down into the scrunched-up, red face, the tiny mouth open in a hiccuping wail.

"She gets that from Patrick."

But Shane wasn't, had never been, Jas's parent. By the time he'd learned to sort her hungry-crying from her tired-crying and everything else, she'd been nearly out of babyhood.

And there was no easy fix, anyway, for the way he'd made her cry this time.

She avoided him after what she'd overheard. He didn't blame her. She was a smart kid; it was a good time to cut her losses, free herself of any emotional attachment she had to him. Marnie would be a better guardian than he was, anyway. Maybe the ranch wasn’t doing all that great, but no one in the valley was, and they all managed to keep limping along somehow. Once he was gone, they'd probably be just fine, lightened by the absence of his dead weight.

But he kept hearing her. That was his brain's special talent: replaying, over and over again, the bad moments, so that he wouldn't forget how terrible he was. The sound of her sobbing echoed around in his head with the hundreds of other unpleasant things that repeated themselves there: the song he’d been using as a ringtone when he got the call about Patrick and Charlotte; the stuffed pig that Jas wouldn’t let go of that first week, the one that made the most obnoxious oinking sound; the disinterested scratch of the social worker’s pen on paper, changing the course of their lives forever.

“You want to talk about it?” Lydia asked.

Jas still went to the farm with him on Saturdays. She just didn't make conversation during the walk. The first words she spoke were to Archimedes, and then she waded into the woods, heading for the treehouse, silent.

He didn’t talk much, either, but that was how it had always been. Lydia would tell him about whatever project she was working on; she would remind him again that he could come back later for Jas instead of helping; and then, inevitably, they would get to work. Because he still wasn't enough of an ass to pawn his goddaughter off entirely on someone who hardly knew her.

It was a low bar, but it was what he could clear.

“Talk about what,” he said, and swung for the tree again. He was glad that the damn sprinkler system hadn’t had another crisis since last weekend. If Lydia had put him to that kind of fiddly work today, maybe he wouldn't have cleared that bar.

“Whatever it is,” Lydia said. She watched the tree, eyes darting between trunk and canopy, waiting for the moment it began to tip so that she could warn him out of the way. “I can’t read your mind, but obviously something’s been eating you the last few days.”

He swung the axe again. She hadn't traced his mood back to The Incident. Maybe she didn't want to bring it up if she didn't have to, or maybe other people just didn't spend as much time thinking about how much of a loser he was as he thought they did.

Sounded fake.

“I don’t know,” he said. Thud. “Maybe you’re imagining things.”

Lydia was no saint. Sometimes, just like everybody else, she got impatient. Usually it was because of the sprinklers. But those sometimes were rare, and she wasn't taking the bait today, as usual.

“Maybe,” she said amenably, and lapsed into silence again.

After a few more strikes, the tree creaked warningly. “Now,” she said, and they both hustled out of the way of the trunk. It fell slowly at first, then faster, faster, until it hit the ground thunderously right in the space they’d cleared for it.

Lydia was the mastermind, but at least Shane wasn't terrible at brute force labor.

She picked up a second axe; they both positioned themselves along the fallen tree to start chopping. She needed a fair amount of lumber to get that barn built before winter hit. It was hard for him to imagine thinking so far ahead. The farm was just overgrown enough that she could probably collect all the lumber she needed right here, instead of having to buy it. He didn't need to ask if she'd be able to afford it, if it came to that.

“But maybe I’m not,” she said, picking up the conversation after five minutes, like it’d never been dropped. “I mean, you’re cutting up this tree like it’s personally offended you, so there’s a chance. Just saying. I know you think I talk too much, but I’m a good listener.”

Shane took a deep breath. He fully intended to let out a heavy, annoyed sigh, the kind that usually sent anyone who’d dared take an interest scuttling.

But, as happened too often with Lydia, a stream of words came out instead, like he was powerless to stop them. One more thing he couldn't control.

“Take your pick,” he said, and went on dicing up the tree like it deserved the cutting. “Morris is on my ass about saying the catchphrase whenever I spot a customer.” Thwack. “Gus is on my ass about my tab, which is nowhere near as bad as Pam’s, but apparently it’s a problem when you’re not best friends.” Thwack. “Marnie is on my ass about looking for a better job, like there’s a lot of options in Pelican Town.” Thwack. “Jas won’t even look at me, let alone talk to me.”

They'd established a pleasant kind of rhythm. Lydia’s axe fell not far behind his, creating a rhythmic one-two-beat, one-two-beat.

“Jas,” Lydia said after a moment.

His axe fell out of rhythm. “What?”

“You told me to take my pick. I say Jas is the item on that list that’s really bothering you. The other stuff happens all the time.”

It was no use telling her it was just a figure of speech. It was, but at the same time, she was right. All that other stuff was background noise, compared to Jas.

He hated when she was right. Except when he didn't mind. It was always hard to tell which it was until much later, which didn't help a lot with in-the-moment reactions.

He settled for hitting the tree again.

“Why do you think she’s not talking to you?” Lydia asked, taking up the rhythm again behind him.

“You know why.” He said it to warn her off, in case she’d forgotten—but he didn’t think she had. He wasn't that lucky.

“Maybe. But tell me again.”

Lydia didn't believe in hiding things, letting them fester. She was completely fine wearing most of her bruises out in the open, cheerfully admitting that something had gone wrong and she was working on it—again, most of the time. She had a couple secret bruises that he'd poked, accidentally or intentionally.

But he was all secret bruises, or at least, he'd have liked to be. As long as he kept hanging around her, though, she'd keep digging them up to air out. The obvious solution was to stop hanging around her. He wondered, again, why he hadn't done that yet.

“She overheard something she shouldn’t have,” he said, “because someone dumped a canteen of water on me and made a scene.”

Lydia actually laughed, a little breathless, in the middle of her swing. “Oh, I see. It’s my fault.”

She was kind of refreshing, was the thing. Everyone else at The Incident had taken it so damn seriously. Granted, that was exactly two other people—Marnie and Jas—and one of them was seven, so maybe that wasn't surprising. But still. It was nice that someone had heard the thing he said and wasn’t afraid to talk about it.

“Maybe,” he said.

“I panicked,” she admitted. “Not my finest moment. I’m sorry.”

He grunted in acknowledgment. They went back to the beat, one-two, one-two. In the distance, Archimedes barked.

“So she knows you meant it,” Lydia said, after a moment.

His axe hit a little crooked, and the rhythm stuttered again. He looked up at her. She realized he'd stopped, and she stopped, too, returning the look.

It wasn't that she didn't look sad, or worried. It was just that those things seemed secondary to a kind of openness, a thoughtfulness, like she was solving some kind of puzzle. He wasn't sure if that was a good or bad thing, or whether he liked it or not.

“Haven’t told her otherwise,” he said.

He expected a lecture. He gave one to himself more or less every hour. Put on a good face for Jas, or Just tell her you were having a bad day and didn’t mean it, or Tell her you’re going to be around for a good, long time, even though you don’t know, even though it might be a lie. The kid had already been through hell. He should've figured out some way, any way, to keep her from going through more by now.

He just couldn't. He didn't know why.

But she didn’t lecture. She said, “You don’t want to lie to her.” As if she understood.

He went back to his wood-chopping. “I don’t know how to lie to her.” He wished he did. That would have made this a lot easier.

But then, if he lied, she wouldn’t see the inevitable coming before it hit, which would make it all the harder for her.

Lydia went back to chopping, too. “I don’t think you need to, for what it’s worth.”

“Yeah? You got an age-appropriate way to explain wanting to die?”

Finally, she hesitated, but only for a one-two beat of the falling axes. “Not really,” she said. “But Jas has already been through a lot. She knows stuff that most kids don’t at her age. So you can tell her adjacent truths.”

“Lotta syllables.”

Finally, she gave an impatient little sigh. “I mean things like—you’re sorry that she had to hear that. That it has nothing to do with her, and doesn’t mean you don’t love her. That things are just hard for you right now.” She breathed heavily on the next swing, more exasperation than effort. “She gets that you’re grieving, too, Shane.”

Trust a person like Lydia to paint it in such nice strokes. Like his best effort, which fell far short of winning any prizes, would be sufficient to a needy little kid.

But maybe...well, saying something could always make things worse, but the idea hadn't come from him. It was a start.

“I’ll plagiarize,” he said. “Thanks.”

It seemed like she was going to let it lie there, but then she spoke up again. “Like I said, I’m a good listener, so. You need an ear, I’m here. Day or night. I mean it.”

She wasn't wrong. She was a good listener. But she had some kind of future ahead of her, still, and he'd poisoned enough people with his failures. It was out in the open now; it didn't need to be rehashed. Next time, he would keep his mouth shut.

[zuffer-weird-girl]

Hauting existence (Chapter one)

Summary: She lived with a negletful life, choosing one way to survive this despicable kind of life, disowing her own name to something she decided to take as her own name,  “ Tsuyoi”, meaning of strenght. So this way she could at least have someone to count on, herself. While him had the good luck, born on a hateful and abusive familybut adopted by a kind yet strict agricultor... raised with morals.

Funny thing how these two actually manage to know each other

Chisaki Kai x reader

Warnings: I will see only if the feedback of this fic is good to continue, if not oh well that’s life. It contains beating, mental and physical abuse, curse words, prostitution, sexual assaultt and rape... need I say no more?

either way, enjoy.

You closed the door of the man’s car with a laugh. Winking at him as he cursed under his breath at receiving a call from a woman, probably from his wifem you didn’t doubt it.

“Best reply your sweatheart~!” You giggled at his desperation as he drove the car far away from the post. Adjusting the wig in your head as you walked until the street, being greeted by your “friends” as they whistled and looked at you getting to your usual “spot” as always.

“Rough shift tonight huh?” you heard a femine voice from beside you as you rolled your eyes and smirked at her.

“Kussaku-san.” You greeted as the older woman snickered and poked your shoulder with her fist.

Those weren’t your given names... Yet, no one would ever know your name as far as you et them. Kussaku could be Akemi-san while in day as she took care of her teenager son... a ngrateful one for that matter. She was ony a bit older than you but sadly worked on the same breadwinner as you...

“How many did that old man gave to you for one round?”

“Bastard is a married bussines man, so I charged him triple.” You waved the bills at her face as she laughed in shock.

“You’re such a evil little thing!”

“I do it for survival, just like all os us.” You spoke more seriously as the others left the place, leaving you and Kussaku to chat a bit until no “clients” apperead...

“If no more appear I’ll have to get back home with only 500 yen...” The older woman sighed and you had the slightest pity over her until she adjusted her purse on her shoulder “I have to get goin’ see ya Tsuyoi!” 

You snorted, supporting your weight on only one leg as you watched the cars pass bu the street... A van got closer and stopped by the gas station... You arched an eyebrow up until you saw a man getting out of the car, tall and buff frame with a mask on; the color of his hair was an oak and what caught your attention the most was the gold in her eyes. You smirked, bitting your bottom lip as you walked elegantly towards the man, ocasionaly wiggling your hips.

Supporting your self on where the man was picking some gas fro his car you smile devilsh.

“Heyy~” You purred, finally catching the attention of the guy as he looked down at you. One of his brown eyebrows up. “Wanna have a goo time handsome, for such a full course meal I will only charge the tiniest bit.” You licked your lips while looking up and down at his body, adoring how even despite him having a mask on how embarresed he got at your words, yet still stuck on the same stoic expression.

“My apologies, not interested.” He placed the cash on the balcony and gave you one look before leaving, you furrowed your eyebrows before trailing after him.

“No? Well, maybe is because you don’t want to dissapointed your wifey or girlfriend then?” You snorted as he stoppe, but soon got shocked when he gave you a look over his shoulder.

“Pardon. I guess maybe someone cant take “no” as an answer?”

You frowned and scoffed at how his cheeks liften up slightly, showing that dammed smirk beneath that mask of his.

“Full of yourself.” You mumbled as he rolled his eyes and got in his car as you chuffed, knocking on his window. “At least give me a ride back home will ya?”

The man looked at you with a deappan look, before sighing and unlocking the passenger door as you chuckled in victory and got in despite his annoyed look as he drove.

“Not much of a talker daddy’s boy?” You smirked from your seat, seing how his gloved hand tighten on the wheel as he breathed in and out slowly.

“Usually I dont give rides, esoecially for, well, your type of person.” 

“uhuhuhu!” You laughed in sarcasm at his words “I poked at the sting didn’t I??”

Although your lips parted in shock as a chuckle escaped hismouth looking at you from the corner of his eyes.

“I know what you’re got. And let me explain that was not what I meant, I usually don’t give rides for strangers... idiot.” He snorted at your scoff and continued driving. “You have a name?”

You looked at him with a devilish smirl, so maybe he was interested...

“Tsuyoi.” you almost purred your name as he scoffed.

“I meant your real name idiot.”

“Oi! More respect towards my name will you?! You got a problem with my name so say it instead.’

“Is a adjective this, not a name.”

“Well mister gramatic, is MY NAME.” you talked back as he pinched his nose with one hand as the other stayed tight on the wheel.

How much would you will be owning to that guy for this..?

“Where do I drop you off anyway?” you didn’t catched his wordsas you saw a car getting too close to your liking, and even before you could even coment something the car got in the side of the man, and hitted with such a brute force that made you scream and the car to fly out of the street. You heard the man shouting a curse as the car rolled in the dirt as you were throw out of it and landed on the grass with a groan,

“Fuck...” You groaned, touching a place on your fprehead and wincing, seing the fred velvet fluid on your fingers... You looked behing you and saw a masked man throw some liquid in the car and a bit on the grass from a safe distance before you widened your eyes at when them took a phosphor and dropped into the ground before walking away.

You cursed and got up from the grass to gasp at seing the man still on the car, passed out.

“SHIT!” you screamed and took off your heels to get to the upside down car and try to take off the seat bell out “MAN FOR THE LOVE OF GOD WAKE UP!“

Unknown to you was that you lost your wig and your truly hair fell as you shaked him and pulled the seat bell, wakening him up as he groaned before widening his eyes at seing you, how beautiful he found you on your true nature and how much you looked like a.. a

“Angel..?” he muttered as you screamed and begged him to move.

“SIR PLEASE WE HAVE TO GET OUT OF HERE IS GOING TO EXPLODE!” you cried as he finally come to his senses and strated t figet to get out.

‘I’m trying! Its stuck”“ he shouted as you panicked seing the fire getting close until you let put a gasp, grabbing a knife you always carried for protection on your abandoned purse and cuted the seat belt out of him as you pulled him out of the upsided down car.

“COME ON!” You grabbed his arm and pu on your shoulders as both of you tried to run, only to the explosion to happen, sending both of you straight to the ground.

You got up, looking mortified at the scene in front of you as the man besides you groaned and got promped into his his arms as his eyes widened.

“For the love of...” He mumbled as you looked at him.

.

.

.

Continue...?

“That will be all Chisaki-san.” the woman spoke while giving him a paper as he looked over at it, looking over his shoulder to see you were gone.

His feet moved on his own and found you at the exit of the hospital, not getting why he finally got to breath again at seing you standing there.

“You seem like a magnet for trouble.” He sighed as you looked at him before rolling your eyes.

“I can say the same for you... The van was yours, I could have died because of you, ya know?” You mumbled as he stood tall besides you with a arrogant aurea that surely pissed you off to no ends.

“Yet you didn’t.” He spoke nonchantly, hands stuffed on his jacket as he mantained looking at you, until you clenched your teeth and snapped.

“Stop staring at me like that!” You shouted as he remained unfazed by your attics “ If you got nothing to pay for it or to complain about it so just leave dammit!”

“Can’t a person just look at something because is beautiful?” You gagged in your words at hearing him speak so nonchantly before seeing him, even witha patch up on his forehead still looking so good and beutiful, smirking, fucking smirking at you “Cat got your tongue brat?”

You narrowed your eyes at him and pointed a finger at him as you spilled acid with your words.

“Listen, you little shit. Just because you paid for my consultation to see if I had any broken bones doesn't mean you can at least have the fucking audacity to talk to me like that, did you hear me right?” you growled as he glred back at you, but soon a snort came out.

“Whatever you say.. brat.” You scoffed and marched your way away from him as he looked at you “To your concern, my name is Chisaki, Chisaki Kai... a true name. Hope to see you around.. Tsuyoi.” you could hear the snicker behind his voice as you flipped him ff and got on your way home.

If only you knew you would be crossing paths with this misterious man again...

[lollercakesff]

And They Were Strangers

Jyn Erso has been prepping for this for months. Years even, if you count the endless hours she'd spent running pools and hosting watch nights with her college roommates. She'd choreographed hundreds of dollars in auctions for remaining teams and had led multiple nights where her and her friends cooked their way around the world with the country of the week. The memories were great, sure, but to say she didn't feel a connection with this path in her life would be a lie. Something drew her in, tied her up, and convinced her that this - this - was the thing she needed to do before she died.

And now it was time. She was ready. Mentally… Physically… Hopefully.

AN: Will I finish writing this? I have a plan... But is it worth my time?

But the path to her next adventure was currently being blocked by some too-tall goon with haphazard hair and piercing dark eyes who kept getting in her way. First at check in, then in line for security, and now at the boarding gate. They’d practically been together, crossing paths and crashing each other, since she entered this damn airport and it was starting to really get to her. 

"Are you planning on getting on this plane or just standing in the way?" Jyn growls under her breath when the man doesn't move forward with the gate agent's call.

"What - Oh," he leaps forward a step and hustles towards the woman, pulling his passport from his pocket as Jyn sighs and checks her papers again. 

Her new American passport feels heavy in her hand, its empty pages a sign of things to come. She was on her way to Los Angeles where she was scheduled to show up at her first and only briefing for the next season of the Amazing Race. The producers had promised a full day of orientation covering the rules of the race and how the team match up would work before the "trip of a lifetime" began the next day. She was trying not to stress about it but she didn't quite know what she was getting into. 

This was the first season where every team in the race would be a set of strangers. They'd all meet at the briefing but it wouldn't be until the start of the race when they'd learn who their partner was. The producers had billed it as the season of 'fate' where they tried to pick a winning team by pure dumb luck with names drawn from a hat. Or so she'd been told. Who knew how it would really work.

"Next!" The agent calls and Jyn scurries forward, passing her documents over and brushing her bangs from her face. In another second she's motioned through and she's heading down the gangway and onto the plane. 

When she gets to her seat her frustration returns tenfold as the man from before has settled himself in her seat by the window, his seatbelt already clipped and his attention turned towards the action on the tarmac. 

"Hey, you're in my seat," she greets, stuffing her duffle in the overhead bin.

"F? Window?" He answers with an almost-accent and a quirk to his lips. Jyn frowns and steps into the row to let the people behind her pass.

"Yes. That's my seat, can you move please?" 

"I was sure I had the window, I feel claustrophobic if I can't see out - "

"Yeah, I'm sure. Can you check your boarding pass?" She asks, cutting his sob story off before it can even get started. 

"Can't I just have it this one time? It's a short flight," he answers, making no move to relent. Jyn sighs and drops into the seat next to him, her eyes closing tight as she urges the irritation to ease. 

"Fine. But this is bad karma and I hope it comes back to bite you in the ass, asshole," she grumbles the last part, determined to insult him but not loud enough to cause a scene. The man coughs as if to hide a laugh and Jyn hates him even more, pulling up her hood and taking out her headphones.

She was going to spend the next two hours in a music haven, mentally far from this man and the constant bumping of her elbow that came from sitting in the aisle row. Soon she'd be in LA at her hotel and then she'd be on to a new country, with a new language and culture that she'd have to work with to get her team to the finish line. Then she’d do it again and again until they won. Or they lost. She didn't like to think about that last possibility so instead she closes her eyes and hits play.

---

The hotel bed is more luxurious than anything she's ever slept in in her life and when she wakes it's with a curse as she realizes she's almost late to the briefing. Hustling around the room, she nearly crashes onto the floor when her pants get tangled and she loses her balance. Cursing out her alarm, her beautiful sleep, and the time difference, Jyn pulls on her t-shirt just as she pulls open her door and slams into someone walking past her room.

"Shit, sorry!” She gasps as she rights herself and pulls back. When she looks up it’s to find the man from the plane. The one who wouldn’t give her back her seat. The one who’d been a pain in the ass all day. “You!” The man’s eyes widen and he looks around him like he’s being Punk’d, surprise in his brow. 

“From the plane?” He counters, as if he was still struggling to place her. 

“Yeah. What, are you following me? How did you know to find me here?” Jyn growls, crossing her arms. The man cocks his head and furrows his brow, looking at her as though she was crazy. 

“Follow you? I’m here for… A thing that has nothing to do with you. If anything, I’d think you’re stalking me,” he adds sharply. Jyn scowls and shakes her head, her watch beeping with her five minute alarm. 

“Sure. Fine, whatever. I won’t be here long enough to have this happen again. Have a good life!” She shouts as she hurries off down the hall, her hand flung up into the air and her middle finger pointed towards him. 

She takes the stairs down to the conference room because getting stuck in the elevator with that jerk would put her nerves over the edge, their already frayed status from the late wakeup making her more punchy than usual. By the time she barrels into the room and grabs a plate of the breakfast, the producer is calling everyone to a seat. 

Jyn moves towards an empty chair and begins measuring up her fellow racers, her eyes drifting over one person and then the next as they settle in a semi-circle around the speaker. Some of them were incredibly fit, others a bit paunchy but she figured they could probably take her in a memory challenge or two if it came down to it. Most of them were on the younger side, maybe in their twenties or thirties, though there were a few who easily slotted into their fifties at the very least. She didn’t want to be ageist but she secretly hoped she’d get paired with someone who could keep up with her at the very least and she didn’t really peg any of these older folks as marathoners. 

“Welcome, good morning everyone!” A young woman calls out, drawing their attention to the front of the room. Jyn sits up and nimbles on a muffin, trying to look intimidating to the others around her who she assumed were doing the measuring up as she had just been. 

“You’re in my seat,” a voice says over her shoulder. Jyn’s stomach drops and she frowns, looking back to find the man from the airplane and the hallway standing behind her. “Don’t worry though, I’m not going to make you move, I’ll just take this empty one here.” 

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” Jyn hisses, clenching her hands and nearly crushing her muffin to pieces. 

“Nope,” he responds as he sits in the chair next to her. An insult is on the tip of her tongue when the woman calls out again and really takes control of the room, beginning with a welcome spiel before moving right into the security briefing. After the team has explained every terrifying aspect about the world in explicit detail, Jyn looks around the room and finds half of the contestants with a concerned look on their faces, the other half grinning wickedly at the challenge. Beside her the man keeps his expression reserved though his eyes are calculating, the look making her guess whether he was regretting his choice or simply bored. 

After the welcome session, they’re broken up into groups of four and are led to a table in the corner of the room. Jyn sighs a breath of relief as the man is placed in another group, his presence finally dissipating and allowing her to focus on the tasks at hand instead of the prickling skin she felt whenever he was close. 

Hours pass and the contestants are moved around the room to different stations where they focus on different aspects of the game. There’s logic tests and geography quizzes which she passes with flying colours but when it comes to the language skills and memory games she flounders, her attention twisting towards her fellow contestants. She spends half the time trying to measure up where they stand on these activities, who would be best suited to the way she wanted to run this race. 

Her strategy - based on years of watching the show - was to run with brute force. She would power through on the physical challenges and when it came to figuring out a puzzle she was set. She just needed a partner who would be able to keep up and rush into everything just as hard. Smarts weren’t what won you the race, it was being able to push your way through anything and she had trained to do just that. 

“Everyone now has an hour for lunch. Feel free to get to know each other and remember, these folks might be your competition or they might just be the person you cross that finish line with!” The producer from earlier calls as the stations are closed and the participants are left to loiter in the room. 

Jyn feels like she’s in a social experiment as she beelines towards the food table to take a plate. She loads it up with everything she’s going to miss for the next few weeks - caesar salad and french fries and pasta salad that looked too delicious to miss. When she settles at a table she’s quickly joined by a handful of others, the conversation easily picking up from the morning activities.

“I’m Bodhi Rook, you?” The man sitting next to her says around a forkful of salad. Jyn looks him over quickly and notes his tall frame and long hair, his thin frame and open expression. He could be a good partner - she’d seen him race through some of the challenges with an efficiency she admired. 

“Jyn Erso,” she answers, lifting her hand to offer a shake. Bodhi takes it and squeezes it before turning back to his food, diving in as she looks around the table at the others. “You heard anything about how we’re going to be assigned teams?” She asks after a few minutes, her water lifting to her lips. 

“Not really. My group thought maybe the stations were to see where our strengths were so they could match us up better. But I was also told it would be a name in a hat, so who knows what they’re planning.” 

“Yeah, I heard the hat thing too. I hope there’s a little more thought put into it,” she responds with a shrug. Bodhi nods and lets a laugh escape. 

“Either way, I think I’ll be okay. I just like the adventure of it, you know? Don’t really need to win the whole thing,” he says around another bite. 

Jyn frowns and looks at her food, debating internally whether she could be paired with someone who didn’t want to win the whole race. If she had to admit it - though she’d never say it on camera - she wasn’t here just because she liked the show and wanted to see the world. 

She was here because she needed the prize money. 

The thought creeps up on her and she pushes it back down, stuffing it into her chest like too many clothes in a carry on bag. She didn’t have time to think about it now, not when she should be sizing up her competition and thinking about U-Turn and Yield strategy. No. She needed to focus. 

“What about everyone else?” Bodhi asks the table when Jyn still doesn’t respond. She turns her attention to the people around them, listening as first a bright eyed Luke Skywalker and a gruff Baze Malbus explain their motivations before moving on to Leia Organa, a beautiful but strategic thinker, and her cocky puppy-dog-tail for-the-day Han Solo easily admits he’s only here for the money. Jyn can’t help but think he might be her real competition if they don’t get paired together, the gleam of a quick buck in his eyes adding to his boisterous energy. 

Taking another glance around the room, Jyn weighs the rest of her competition as they sit at two other tables. Sixteen racers in total, all with different motivations and experiences that they bring to the table. They’d be eight teams and the producers had all but guaranteed it would be a tough race with all of them having secret strengths that were admitted in their bio videos. Jyn can’t remember what hers ss but by the time she turns back to the conversation at hand, she already knows one thing is for sure - she’s going to win, even if it kills her. 

After lunch they’re broken off into individual briefing rooms where they’re given their racing issued equipment and a final check in with the producers before they’re sent off to their rooms to pack. In the morning they’ll all be meeting in the lobby to hand over their backpacks before heading to the starting line. 

When the race starts their first activity will be finding their matched backpack with a coloured bandana tied to it. The racer with the matching bandana will be their partner for the duration and it will either be a successful match or a story of just how quickly Jyn can crash and burn their team. 

Throughout the evening she tries not to think about it - pushing away thoughts of how hectic tomorrow would be, how much adrenaline is already rolling in her veins and just how is she supposed to sleep tonight? To distract herself she focuses on potential strategies depending on who she paired with in the morning. Baze could work, or she’d even probably be successful with Han if they didn’t rip each other's heads off. Bodhi would be a great candidate - he seemed relaxed and competent, but Jyn didn’t like that he wasn’t driven by the final prize so much as he just wanted to have an adventure. 

No, she could pair with most of the people she’d met that morning. With the very real exception of the man from the plane who she’d learned was named Cassian Andor. There was no way they would be able to work together to even get out of the States, their partnership tanking before they even took their first flight. She was sure of it. And so when she falls asleep that night it’s to the thought that she had a one in fifteen chance of failing and those were pretty good odds. 

---

Morning comes in a rush of excitement and insanity and a paranoia that she’s forgotten something even though she’s checked her bags at least a dozen times. When she gets to the lobby, the assistants take her old bags and mark them with her tags before collecting her race bag and shoving it onto a luggage cart with the other packs. She’s directed to a holding queue where the racers mill about, snacking on the continental breakfast and filling their water bottles. 

Twenty minutes later and they’re piled onto a bus. Thirty minutes later and they’re being placed around an empty field with only the production crew circling them and a pile of luggage in the center of the field. Jyn thinks she spots her bag with a blue tag and she grins, looking around at the nervous faces she was up against. 

“You’ve got this,” she whispers to herself as Phil Keoghan begins his speech from near the luggage pile. Adrenaline spikes in her blood and then there’s a horn and she’s racing forward, scrambling for the luggage pile and her bag with its bandana looped through the arm. She pulls it free and stumbles back, looking around at the other racers as they take in their own colours, desperately looking for their partner. 

Not Bodhi. Not Baze. Fuck, not even Han. She scours the faces and colours until she sees it - blue, like hers! She steps forward, her smile widening having finally found her partner. 

But then she looks up. And her eyes meet her partner’s. 

Dark brown meeting green.

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“Guess you’re stuck with someone with bad karma,” he says evenly, the nerve of it making her want to pull her hair out. She curses again and grabs for his arm, dragging him towards the clue box for their next instructions. They didn’t have time to waste on pleasantries and witty comebacks, not if they wanted to win. 

She could do this. Brute force was all it would take, right? 

[yourdeepestfathoms]

teeth

(Read Anne as Courtney!Anne)

Aragon and Anne make the best mother duo and you Cannot Change My Mind

(you can read this as Aralyn if you want, but it’s not written in that way and the line is pretty vague tbh)

Word count: 4769

———————

There was a crash.

And then a crack.

And then a crunch.

The girl at the bottom of the stairs had her bottom jaw bent in a horrible position, her tongue lolling out of one side and bloody drool spilled all down her chin. Her eyes are upturned in her skull; she didn’t seem to be all there, though no one was surprised. Those broken bones must be excruciating.

———

Eight weeks of silence. A jaw wired shut. Almost three months of only eating liquidated foods. Black and blue floral bruising bloomed across the sides of her face. An eternity of humiliation.

———

In theory, it was difficult to miss Joan. Nineteen years of age and the workaholic music director stood at roughly 5’4, and it didn’t look like she was going to be growing again anytime soon. However, in practice, the girl was so quiet and self-enclosed that a lot of the time, she practically melted into the theater walls. That made it a slightly unpleasant surprise when Aragon was disturbed from her reading by a quiet tapping at her doorframe—it was most undignified for a queen as regal as herself to startle like that.

An irritable comment jumped to her lips, but it died as she looked up. Joan looked...worried. That wouldn’t normally strike her in any meaningful way, not if it was anyone else at her door—everyone got worried sometimes, although a fair number of people found it more difficult to talk to her than to others. But for all that had happened in her past, Joan had maintained a rarely-changing expression of passivity throughout the time she’d been reincarnated. Perhaps as a defense mechanism, perhaps simply because that was her resting face; the girl just kept her emotions to herself. However, now, it was incredibly visible that she was experiencing the worst kind of gnawing fear if you knew how to look for it. Nails digging into her arms as she crossed them over her chest, eyes darting all over, and her heel pressing against her other shin like she was trying to keep from anxious tapping. The only reason her lip wasn’t chewed raw was because of the wires and rubber bands anchoring her mouth firmly shut.

Immediately, the irritation turned to alarm bells.

The two just looked at each other for a few minutes, neither seemingly willing to break the silence first. Then, slowly, Joan took one step into the dressing room. Now her fingers were digging into her arm more. Aragon felt the strongest urge to get up from her chair and check to make sure she hadn’t broken skin, but at the same time, she feared that if she tried to move too quickly she would spook this very obviously troubled girl back into her usual repression. It would be wiser to wait for her to say whatever it was she was struggling to get out, but that didn’t make the decision any easier as a thousand and one possibilities as to what could have gone wrong raced through her head.

“May I talk to you, Aragon?”

The hesitation in the girl’s sign language only made those alarm bells ringing in her head louder. It was only her many, many years as a queen that allowed Aragon to keep her voice calm.

“Of course, Joan. Come, sit.”

Slowly, painfully so, Joan made her way to the chair opposite her, after closing the door to the dressing room behind her. But she didn’t sit down. Rather, she stood next to it. Ordinarily Aragon might have taken that as one of those little acts of rebellion Kitty liked to partake in from time to time, but not in this case. It felt more like the unwillingness of a confronted animal to lay down, for fear that they might need to flee at a moment's notice. That bad, then. Carefully, the queen put her bookmark in between the pages she was on and then set the book to the side. Whatever this was about, she doubted it would be over quickly.

“Now then, what is it you want to discuss?”

“Well… The director talked to me. He said I should take some time off to heal.” Joan signed.

“That’s good,” Aragon said. However, she noticed the frown set on Joan’s lips and realized that it was most definitely not a good thing.

“Maybe.” Joan let her hands go limp for a movement, then raised them again to continue. “But that got me thinking. Maybe, even after I heal, I should just leave the wires in. Seems like everyone would be happier without me talking.”

“Joan, you can’t seriously be thinking of doing that?”

Through great force of will Aragon managed to keep her tone mostly level, but even the very slight undertone of ice and steel buried under a dozen layers of constraint made Joan flinch.

“I-I just....”

“I don’t see why you think that’s a good idea. Do you know how damaging that could be for your mouth? It can’t remain shut forever.”

“Aragon-”

“Not to mention that you could put so many other factors at risk-”

“Aragon, please!”

Well that cut her off sharply.

For a moment Aragon just blinked at the girl, startled. This was perhaps the first time she had heard Joan raise her voice at anybody, let alone a queen. It was especially shocking because it had come out more as a strangled hiss between firmly clamped teeth, like the freezing whisper of a fanged glacier. But as she got over that element of surprise, she noticed two things about the girl standing before her. Firstly, it was that she was shaking, quite badly, actually. And secondly, that the bruises along her cheeks were ignited in shades of ivory and indigo and violet from the way she had been clenching her jaws through their bindings.

Moving oh-so-carefully, Aragon up her purse and began to rifle through it. Joan stepped back, but what she brought out wasn’t some form of weapon, but rather a small tin box. A box which Aragon opened and turned towards her.

“Have a mint, Joan.”

Joan just looked at her, baffled.

Aragon quickly realized her mistake and grimaced. It gets the smallest, weakest smile from Joan. She takes one, despite knowing she couldn’t eat it, signed a rapid apology, then left.

———

Trudging into the coffee shop during a fire-breathing rainstorm made Joan miserable enough, but it only got worse when the shrewd older woman working the counter wouldn’t take her order when she attempted to sign it to her and then write it out.

“I’m sorry, but you’re going to need to use your words.” She oozed.

Joan gestured for her bruised mouth and then bared her teeth so she could show the woman that they were firmly clamped shut with rubber bands. The worker leaned back slightly in distaste.

“Well, I don’t know what to tell you,” She said. “Mutes aren’t our top priority here. You can just wait your turn while I handle the other customers.”

Joan waved her head around to find the shop completely empty thanks to the storm outside. She turned back to the worker with an “are you kidding me?” look.

“She’s in the bathroom.” The worker said cooly.

Joan glowered, but her anger quickly dissolved and she made the closest thing to a sigh that she could manage. She stepped away from the counter and waited.

Several long moments passed. The rain outside continuously eased up and then fell harder as if Mother Nature couldn’t decide if she wanted to flood the city today or not. The worker behind the counter kept glancing at Joan, hoping that she would just give up and leave. She was now regretting telling her to wait because it meant she had some disabled kid just loitering in her store when the front door suddenly swung open.

Two haughty American tourists came in with a spray of raindrops, closing their umbrellas, but keeping up their giddy chatter as they approached the counter. One of them glanced at Joan with a questioning look. The worker waved a dismissive hand.

“Ignore her,” She said. “She’s waiting her turn until she learns how to speak up.”

Joan glared and, once again, gestured for her mouth.

“What is wrong with you?” One of the two customers said, pacing around Joan while the other placed an order. “Why don’t you speak?” He eyed Joan’s bruised jaw. “Ohhh. I see.”

“My little brother broke his jaw once,” His friend piped up. “He couldn’t talk for two months!”

“What does it feel like?” The one in front of Joan asked. “Does it hurt?”

Then, without warning, he poked her roughly in the jaw, as if he were trying to pry it open himself. Joan swatted his hands away frantically and reared back, rubbing the area that had been touched. Pain spiraled from her mouth all over again.

“Don’t be a brute.” Said a sharp, barbed voice from behind Joan.

“Oh, hey!” The customer at the counter said. “You’re Anne Boleyn, aren’t you?”

Joan turned and was shocked to see that it was, in fact, Anne Boleyn herself standing there. Her arms were crossed firmly over her chest and her eyes narrowed in a venomous glare. She looked like a coiled up snake ready to lunge.

“Yes,” Anne said, casting a dark glare down on the customers, who step away, sensing her anger. She comes up beside Joan and sets a comforting, protective hand on her shoulder. “You will not touch her again.”

The two tourists nodded and awkwardly sidled away to take their drinks and scamper out with their proverbial tails tucked between their legs.

“Now,” Anne turned her glower on the worker. “I understand that Joan had wanted something?”

“She can wait. You were here first.” The worker said.

Anne ruffled. “Serve her right now.” She snarled lowly, and even Joan was startled by her sudden tone. It was as deep and rumbling as a big cat’s growl, yet cold and scaly like a King Cobra.

The worker didn’t dare quarrel with the woman, so she plucked up the piece of paper left on the counter with Joan’s order and began to make the drink. The whole time, Joan stood still at Anne’s side, eyes wide.

After the drink was finished, Anne ordered one of her own, paid, and then guided Joan over to the front of the shop. She’s not at all bristled anymore and wore a warm smile on her lips.

“That was fun,” She chuckled lightly. “Say, kiddo, wanna come over for dinner? Sudden, I know-“ She laughed this time, a hearty, real one. “But I want to keep an eye on you. Plus, I know we’re having soup tonight. You can eat soup, can’t you?”

Joan nodded, flustered. Anne’s grin grew wider.

“Wonderful.”

—

“We have company!” Anne chimed loudly as she walked through the front door with a fidgeting Joan in tow.

Several heads popped up from an area in the downstairs area, each wearing a different expression- Cathy at the dining table with a curious look, Kitty and Jane on the couch with matching bitter frowns, Cleves from the downstairs hallway with friendly eyes, and Aragon in the kitchen with a warm grin. All Joan can do is give a tiny wave and a nervous smile.

“Hello, dear,” Aragon greeted as Anne and Joan walked over to the kitchen counter. The smell of basil and tomatoes drifted from the pot she was stirring. Anne’s memory hadn’t failed her- they were eating soup that night.

“Hello, beautiful.” Anne replied and Aragon shot her a look, although Joan could tell it was mock-annoyance. “I found this little rascal,” She set a hand on Joan’s head. “at that coffee shop with really good hot chocolate but really shitty workers.”

Aragon knew exactly what she meant, as she gave a knowing nod.

“Ah. That one.” She shook her head, looking back down at the pot. “I’m not sure what they did, but I’ll make sure to leave a one-star review on Yelp.”

Anne laughed, and even Joan gave a tiny giggle.

“Oh! I should show you my falcon before dinner!”

“It’s raining,” Jane said helpfully from the couch. Anne gave her a snake-like glower.

“Don’t be a buzzkill,” She said. “Come on, my darling!”

She grabbed Joan by the hand and led her out to the backyard, missing the blush that dusted her cheeks from the use of the pet name.

The two of them walk out to the backyard, Joan holding an umbrella over their heads, and towards a large wooden structure. It sort of looked like a house with a metal net grating over the sides. Joan could see several perches from inside it.

Anne gave her a wild smile before she slipped on a glove and opened the small door on the front. She held her arm into the pen and then pulled back after a moment, a beautiful brown and grey falcon perched on her wrist. Joan goggles at it with wide eyes.

“This is Baguette.” Anne said. “Just kidding! Her name is Freya. Isn’t she pretty?”

Joan nodded excitedly.

“Watch this.” Anne grinned. “Freya! Hup!”

Anne threw a leather lure as high as she could in the air and Freya shot off of her arm like a rocket. Her wings were primed and they slammed down with more than enough force to send her spiraling into the sky. He darted after the lure, and Anne snapped the cord attached to it, sending the mouse-sized lump off to the side, spinning like a satellite on a line around her. Freya banked, flying up and away a short way before looping around and diving at the lure. It’s clear that she is very good at this game, but Anne had learned just the right moment to change the angle of her swing, switching the direction the lure is sailing and throwing her off just enough that she has to make another pass.

Anne twirled the lure like a lasso, changing the pitch and yaw of the loops, sending it higher, lower, and in sweeping waves. Freya moves like a lightning strike in a hurricane, dive bombing one moment just as she yanks it away, rising back to circle, prepare, and dive again.

They fall into a rhythm, just different enough to keep them on their toes, but solid enough that the rest of the world faded away, until Freya broke off suddenly, catching a glimpse of something else.

“Freya!” Anne shouted as Joan giggled softly beside her. She snapped the lure in an attempt to catch her bird’s attention. “Come on! You’re making a bad first impression!”

Freya wheeled around after a moment and soared back down to the two. She lands dutifully on Anne’s outstretched arm, but is clearly a little crabby about not being able to catch her prey. She eases up when Anne gives her a treat.

“Wanna hold her?” Anne asked Joan, who nodded eagerly. She passed the girl a glove, which she quickly pulled on. “Okay. Be very careful, okay? And don’t freak out.”

Anne took the umbrella and passed Freya over to Joan. The bird stepped onto the younger girl’s arms and flexed her razor sharp talons around the glove, squeezing Joan’s wrist. Joan eyed the claws wryly.

Anne could tell Joan had a million questions, but her wired jaw kept her from verbalizing them. All she could do was stare at the falcon and the falconer with saucer-wide eyes.

“Dinner’s ready!” Aragon suddenly called from the back door.

Joan jolted a little and instinctively leaned away, but Freya remained poised on her arm. Anne laughed and put her bird back into her pen.

“Impressed?” She grinned.

Joan nodded.

“Good!” Anne said. “Now, let’s get inside before Catalina starts yelling at us about catching our death out here or something.”

The two of them walked back inside the house, being hit by the wonderful smell of the soup, which Aragon was pouring into seven different colored bowls. She smiled at them.

“Have fun?”

“Yup!” Anne said. “Joan was very impressed.”

Joan gave two thumbs up in agreement. Aragon’s heart melted.

“Why are there seven bowls?” Kitty asked obnoxiously.

“Uhh. Joan.” Aragon answered, blinking. “You should know that, Kat. She’s standing right there.”

“Yeah, but... Can she even eat?”

“Kit, don’t be stupid,” Anne said, slightly defensive. “Come on, stop acting like this. You know damn well that the doctors wouldn’t wire her jaw shut for a long period of time if she wouldn’t be able to eat or drink for that long.”

Kitty is clearly miffed by her cousin not being on her side and shoots a glare at Joan for it. Then, she raised her nose, looked away, and huffed out an annoyed breath.

“How long will the wires be there?” Cathy asked curiously.

Joan held up eight fingers.

“Weeks?”

She nodded.

There was a swell of murmurs- intrigued, pitiful, amused. Aragon was the one who grimaced.

“I couldn’t imagine that,” She said, rubbing her own jaw as if she thought it might spontaneously break. “Not being able to open my mouth for that long.”

“It’s like reverse lockjaw,” Cleves observed. “Just with less seizures.”

“Does it hurt?” Cathy asked.

Joan made a so-so gesture and then set a tentative hand on one of her heavily bruised cheeks, remembering the touch from that rude tourist. Ever since she had been prodded, her jaw had started hurting again. It felt like someone was trying to forcefully pry her mouth open with a crowbar.

She tried to just ignore it and sat down at the dinner table after getting her bowl. The soup was a lot chunkier than she had been expecting; she looked at the slices of potato in dismay, unsure how she would get them past her firm wall of teeth.

“Need a straw?” Kitty teased. She yelped loudly when Anne kicked her underneath the table.

Joan scowled at the pink queen, then brought a spoonful of soup to her lips. She had to awkwardly tip her head back slightly to make sure she didn’t spill anything on her. Sadly, her teeth were too bound together by rubber-bands to keep her jaws from moving from opening just a sliver to allow the bits of meat and potato to pass through, so only the liquids that flow through the random holes between her teeth reach her throat and stomach.

It had been much easier to drink her coffee.

“Sweetheart,” Aragon said, unable to watch the poor girl struggle any longer. “I’ll get the blender.”

Joan hunched her shoulders, embarrassed. Kitty tittered. Anne kicked her again.

“Ow!” Kitty whined. “Stop doing that!”

“Then stop being a brat.” Anne said cooly.

“I’m not a brat!”

“Well, you’re acting like one right now.”

“This is very entertaining.” Cleves commented. Anne flashed her an agreeing grin. Kitty sulked.

The loud sound of the blender stopped the argument from continuing. A few moments later, Aragon set a cup of blended soup with a straw in front of Joan. Joan gawked at it and then looked up at Aragon, one eyebrow raised. Aragon quickly swiped the straw.

“First the mint and now this?” Anne laughed.

“What mint?” Cathy asked.

“Catalina apparently offered Joan a mint earlier.” Anne told her.

Laughter erupted around the table. Aragon rolled her eyes as she sat back down.

“It was a mistake!” She tried to defend herself. “And an accident!”

Joan gave her a small smile before going back to eating. Well- drinking. Although, it wasn’t much easier. She wished she had the syringe she had been using for the past two days or the tube the doctors had used with her.

She quickly licked off the thick caking of soup on her lips, hoping that nobody had noticed it was there, then saw Kitty leering at her. She bristled and raised her eyebrows as if to say, “What?”

“What’s the name of that Warriors cat with the weird jaw?” Kitty asked the rest of the group, pleasantly pretending like Joan wasn’t sitting just a few feet away from her.

“Crookedjaw?” Cathy answered.

“Yeah!” Kitty turned to Joan with a smile as crooked as the girl’s mouth. “We can call you Crookedjaw! Seems like a fitting nickname.”

Anne gaped in horror at her younger cousin. She was so startled that she couldn’t even kick the queen. Aragon, on the other hand, wasn’t as stricken as she was.

“Katherine, what the fuck?” Aragon seethed.

“What?” Kitty said innocently. “It fits her!”

“Are you fucking nuts?” Aragon said, eyes wide and burning like hot embers. “No, actually- are you stupid?”

“She was just messing around, Catherine.” Jane tried to smooth things over.

“Don’t defend her!” Aragon snapped. “You should tighten the leash on her.”

“She’s not a dog.” Jane hissed.

“And yet she’s as annoying as a chihuahua that never shuts up,” Aragon said. She stood up, grabbed her bowl, and walked over to Joan. “Come on, Joan.”

Joan got up and followed her to the staircase. Anne went with them, but not without rounding on her cousin.

“If you’re going to call her Crookedjaw, then maybe we should start calling you Lostneck or Severedhead.” She said coldly. A mocking smile curled on her lips. “Because it fits.”

Kitty went rigid, but neither Anne or Aragon stuck around for her possible panic attack. They herd Joan upstairs and to Aragon’s room.

“I am so sorry, Joan.” Anne said once they were inside. “I don’t know what’s gotten into her.”

“She thinks everything will be handed to her on a silver platter.” Aragon stated as she began to rummage through her pajamas. “Entitled brat. Just like you said.”

Anne nodded in agreement, then looked back at Joan. She carefully cupped one of her cheeks.

“Are you okay, my darling?”

Joan closed her eyes, unconsciously leaned into the touch, and nodded.

“Alright.” Anne said. “So... Movie night?”

“Sounds good to me,” Aragon said. She tossed a pair of pajamas over to Joan. “They might be a little big, but you can wear these.”

Joan nodded and padded off to the bathroom to change. When she returns, she finds Aragon and Anne already situated on the bed in their pajamas. Aragon was clad in a pale yellow nightgown with white rims and a bow near the collar, while Anne was dressed in green cotton sleeping pants and a button-down shirt of the same color. Joan looked a lot less fancy in a grey T-shirt with something about a fishing competition embroidered in white on it, which she had no idea what the origins of it being Catherine of Aragon’s dresser were, and some black gym shorts.

“Come on,” Anne waved her over, rolling out of the bed. “Lay down!”

It takes Joan a moment to realize she was supposed to lay in between them. She swallowed down her flustered feelings and obeyed, clambering up the side of the bed and sitting beside Aragon with her knees huddled close to her chest. She could feel the golden queen’s comforting warmth wavering off of her half-reclined body.

God, she was pathetic. Ever since Anne she touched her shoulder at that coffee shop something had awoken within her and refused to go back to sleep.

That something ranged from a persistently mewing kitten to a starved, roaring lion—she’d tried for a sheep or goat metaphor, because that seemed more fitting for her, but frankly, sheep were a good bit easier to manage than whatever this was.

Joan pointed to the TV as movies were flicked through and then gave each queen a questioning look. She knew she could sign, but she didn’t feel like putting Anne and Aragon through the process of having to translate what she was saying. Plus, just being completely quiet and onto using facial features and occasional gestures like this almost felt...serene.

“We’re watching Hush.” Anne said, smirking slightly. “Which has absolutely nothing to do with you not being able to talk, I promise.”

Joan giggled softly and nodded.

“Only because you lost Rock, Paper, Scissors.” Aragon retorted. She looked at Joan with motherly concern that nearly sent Joan keeling over into her chest crying. “Are you okay to watch it?”

Joan nodded. She could take it, really! She wasn’t a baby!

And yet, when the neighbor character is suddenly slammed against the glass backdoor with a knife in her gut, she still lurched backwards and nearly climbed up the headboard in fear. Anne laughed sympathetically, while Aragon gently touched her hand.

“Are you okay, sweet girl?” She asked softly.

Joan nodded, but still ducked her head away from the screen, wincing.

Aragon watched the poor girl cringe for two more minutes before she wrapped her up in her arms and pulled her securely against her chest. Joan was clearly surprised by this, but didn’t make any move to pull away. In fact, she burrowed deep into her embrace.

“Awww,” Anne cooed, glancing at the two of them. “So cute.”

“Jealous?” Aragon smirked.

Anne stuck her tongue out at her, then resumed watching.

Joan peeked out from where she had her face smothered in Aragon’s soft chest and begrudgingly continued to watch the movie because she was interested in it, she was just a tad bit frightened by it. But, again, it was okay! SHE was okay!

And then they got to the closeup of Maddie’s hand being broken and the memory of falling down the stairs flashed through Joan’s brain- slipping and falling, tumbling down each step, smashing her jaw into the tile at the bottom, the bones in her mouth crunching and cracking and grinding, her teeth cutting into her tongue and feeling like it had been severed completely, blood gargling in her throat, everyone staring at her. It was horrific, it STILL WAS horrific.

“Anne!” Aragon barked when Joan whimpered and hid her face back into her chest.

“I didn’t know that was in it!” Anne said, raising her hands. “This is the first time I’m seeing this!”

Anne paused the movie and turned to Joan, who was shaking in Aragon’s arm. She gently began to rub her back comfortingly, seeing as Aragon was already stroking her hair.

“Joan? My darling?” Anne called. “Are you okay?”

Joan nodded weakly, sniffling. She raised her head and Aragon immediately wiped away the tears in her eyes.

“Oh, you poor thing,” Aragon murmured.

“Does anything hurt?” Anne asked. “Or did you just get scared?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Aragon nodded. “What she said! Are you hurting?”

Joan shrugged, looking away. Aragon slapped Anne’s arm frantically.

“Go get painkillers.”

“Catalina, how is she supposed to swallow a PILL?” Anne cried.

“Oh no, you’re right!” Aragon pulled Joan close to her bosom and bright red mixed awkwardly with purple and blue on the girl’s face. “My baby’s going to die!” She said woefully.

“She’s not going to—” Anne had to stop to give Aragon a confused looked. “She’s not going to die, Catalina.” She glanced momentarily at Joan smooshed against her chest. “I mean, not from not taking a pill, but your tits might suffocate her to death.”

Aragon looked down at Joan and quickly pushed her back. She cleared her throat and smoothed out her nightgown.

“Yes. Of course.” She said and Anne and Joan both laughed. She gave them a look. “I was just acting! I am an actor. And you fell for it!”

Anne rolled her eyes in a good natured way. “Yeah, okay.”

After making sure Joan was completely okay, they ended up switching the movie to The Incredibles 2. Joan was still very giddy from the way both queens fussed over her, and yet she still found her eyelids drooping shut...

—

“Catalina, look,” Anne whispered.

Aragon turned her attention away from the movie to look at Joan curled against Anne, soundly asleep. Then, she noticed one of the girl’s hands grasping three of her fingers- apparently she couldn’t find the other two in her tired daze. Her heart absolutely melted.

“Oh my,” She murmured. “What a sweet girl.”

“I know,” Anne grinned. “She’s so cute.” She leaned down to press a soft kiss to the top of Joan’s head, causing her to stir with a sleepy noise before settling down. Anne gently began to stroke her hair.

Aragon moved closer until she and Anne were practically sandwiching the girl with their bodies. Joan seemed content, though, as she would constantly nuzzle closer to the warmth and touch.

Perhaps the eight weeks wouldn’t be so bad after all...