#you know its serious when i tag his full legal name | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

30secondstoanime · 4 years ago

Text

The Birthday Present

pairing: Pro!Hero Midoriya x Fem!Reader

genre/warnings: Reader Insert, Birthday Sex

Kinky Midoriya Izuku, Midoriya Izuku Gets Out of His Comfort Zone, That's Not How You're Supposed to Use Your Quirk, Porn With Plot, praise kink?, very smutty, Rough Sex, role-playing, Oral Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Teasing, Light Bondage, Light Masochism, Light Choking, Doggy Style, Fluff and Smut, after sex cuddles

word count: 7,467

→ summary: Your birthday is around the corner. What better gift than your boyfriend, the #1 Hero Deku, finally giving you what you want the way you want it: rough and kinky. But first plot!

a/n: Sorry about the crap summary and title, I'm working on that lol. So this is my first fic for the bnha fandom and first attempt at writing very explicit sex scenes and venturing into kinks/BDSM, so please be kind, but also I’d love feedback! This was supposed to be a cute four-page oneshot but turned into a sixteen-page, 7k+ word behemoth, hence the self-indulgent tag ‘cause I couldn't stop writing. I hope you enjoy the fruits of my labor ;)

In a few days, you’ll be turning twenty-four. Your birthday has always been an odd day you think for someone with your quirk because age really was just a number. That’s not to say you weren’t planning to do something fun, at least if you could figure out what you’d like to do. Okay, so that was a lie. You knew exactly what or should you say who you wanted to do and that it involved getting your back blown out. As soon as the thought pops into your head, your epiglottis forgets its job, and you choke on the sip of UCC coffee, you had tried to swallow. You cough to clear your airway, gasping when air finally expands your lungs. You tap your pen nervously against your desk, eyes scanning the other pro heroes’ faces in your agency. It seems your sudden outburst hadn’t disrupted the comfortable silence of the natural lull of the workday. A beep from your hero pager pulls your attention away from people watching in the office. Coordinates flash in five consecutive seconds before the transmission ends. You stand grabbing your toolbelt and strapping it across your hips; you make your way to the front. As you near the exit, you hear your hero name being called. You turn and see Yaomomo briskly walking towards you.

“Hey Creati, you got the page too?”

“I did, sounds like they’ve made a bit of a mess of things.” You scoff good-naturedly.

“When do they ever not. Were they really like this during your time at U.A.?” She giggles and nods her head. You wonder if you’ll ever stop cleaning up after the nation’s top three heroes.

“Better get going then, we both know they share a singular brain cell, so there’s no telling how much time we have to fix things.”

“Atomic!” You laugh at Yaomomo’s weak attempt to scold you — the amusement in her black eyes softens the tone.

−−−−−−−−−−−−−−−−

“Oh my.”

You blow out a low whistle. Ice and scorch marks are scattered across the street and surrounding buildings. Explosive ash is still gently falling from the sky, and black tendrils are haphazardly keeping electric poles, exposed building foundation, and an abundance of wrecked vehicles from collapsing.

“Creati, check the building foundations. Create new beams and weld them together if necessary. I’ll get started on the pole, we can’t have a live electric wire falling.” She nods, and you split off. The work is slow and arduous, but the orderly nature of reorganizing and coaxing atomic particles back into place helps the time pass quickly. You’ve just finished rearranging the anatomical structure of a car hanging from a, thankfully, undamaged light pole, so that it falls to the ground weightlessly. You touch the damaged side, pull it back together, and return the car to its original density. You give the car a quick tap with the toe of your foot to test the structural integrity, satisfied you step back taking in your handiwork. What had a few hours ago looked like a DEFCON 3 military mission gone awry is now back to looking like an ordinary Japanese street. Well, as normal as you and Yaomomo could reconstruct — you weren’t miracle workers, and Ground Zero’s explosive residue was hard to get rid of. Instead, the way it collected and hung in the atmosphere made it difficult for your quirk to erase without condensing the air. That was out of the question unless you wanted to suffocate Yaomomo. Which you didn’t, so the employees of these buildings would be dealing with the smell for at least a week. Sighing, you tuck your hands in your pockets and make your way over to Creati. Her welding mask obscures her face, but you know it’s in deep concentration. After she cuts the torch and pushes the protective gear up, she gives you a smile.

“All done?”

“Just about.”

“I’ll page H.Q. Might even lodge a formal complaint against those three bird brains while I’m at it.”

“(Y/N), you can’t be serious.” She shoots you an incredulous look.

“They make this huge ass mess and don’t even bother to wait for us to arrive before dipping. Total dick move.”

“Ah-huh.” You don’t like the teasing note in her voice.

“What?”

“Oh, nothing.” You cross your arms defensively.

“Spit it out, Yaoyorozu.”

“You sure your foul attitude has nothing to do with not seeing Deku?” You roll your eyes.

“I’ll see him at home like I do every day. So no, I’m not upset about not seeing him.”

“If you say so.” She gives you a look, and you let out an exasperated puff of air.

“You cannot still be stuck on that!”

“Hmm? What do you mean?” She bats her eyes at you innocently while creating a duffle bag to transport the welding equipment.

“That God awful theory you and Ashido have about me having a hero kink for Izuku." You begin to walk side by side back to the agency. You hand her an energy bar from your utility belt.

“I mean, you do get very flushed whenever you see him on patrol. Like, if it were a hentai video, you’d definitely be drooling with your tongue lolling out of your mouth.”

“Ugh!” You shove her with your shoulder. “That is so gross.” Both of you laugh, and after a small lapse into silence, you give.

“Okay fine. I might get instahorny whenever I see Izuku in costume, but I can’t help it. He just looks so good, and it’s heightened because I know what he looks like out of costume, and then all I want to do is jump his bones, but of course, I don’t because propriety. So I’m left with all this pent up sexual frustration!”

“So, are you going to ever mention this to him? Your birthday is in a few days and if I may be so bold —”

“It’s never stopped you.” You mumble under your breath with a smile.

“I’d suggest you request it be your birthday present.”

“Pfft. Yaomomo, we’ve been together almost a year and a half, and while our sex life is fucking phenomenal, I’m talking multiple orgasms almost every time, amazing — it’s been very strictly vanilla. Not from any lack of trying on my end, but every time I’ve tried to spice things up, he gets as close as humanly possible to spontaneous combustion. Don’t even get me started on the one time I tried to get him to choke me while I —”

“(Y/N)! Stop, goodness, I do not need the play by play of your and Izuku’s sex life. I just,” she massages her temples, “wanted to make a suggestion. While I’m relieved you feel so secure in our friendship to be so open, please remember I went to high school with him. He’s like a little brother.”

“Oh, Yaomomo, there’s nothing little about him.” Her face pales, and you can’t stifle your cackle. It quickly becomes a full-blown laugh that rattles through your body.

“I went a little too far with that last comment, gomen. On a serious note, though, how would I even go about asking him? ‘Hey babe, it’s my birthday so I want you to fuck me until my knees are jello while in your hero costume because it gets me all hot and bothered oh and since I’m risking it all I’d love it if you tied me up and maybe choked me too.’”

You glance over your shoulder, a look of profound regret is plastered over Yaomomo’s face. You give her an impish grin.

“Doesn’t quite roll off the tongue does it.”

“Oh (Y/N).” Your friend shakes her head. When you finally turn the corner onto the street, your hero agency is housed, you catch sight of a mop of green hair. You pick up your pace, a mischievous grin on your face. Using your quirk, you redistribute your mass, so your footfall’s noise against the pavement is silenced. Izuku is talking with someone, his back turned to you. The goods were on display. When he’s in reach, you stretch out your arms, hands cupping his butt you feel him stiffen as you whisper against his ear.

“You’re under arrest for transporting illegal buns of steel.” You watch the blush creep up from his neck before capturing his entire face. He turns his neck, trying to get a good look at you.

“Wh-what!” You begrudgingly let go of his ass, and he turns his body to face you, his freckles standing out against the pink hue of his flustered expression.

“Sorry hun, I don’t make the rules.” You shrug your shoulders.

“I- I, (Y/N) that’s not even a legal penal code! A-and there’s no way I could transport enough steel on my person to warrant a body search.”

“Ooh Deku,” you loosen up the state of your atoms, allowing them to vibrate in mock arousal, “I love it when you talk legal code at me. Repeat it: penal.”

He flounders for a reply, mouth agape at a total loss for words. You giggle at his expression, a total deer in headlights. The person he’d been talking to finally makes themselves known.

“Atomic, you’re still teasing the living soul out of Deku per usual. Glad to know things haven’t changed ‘round here.” His shark tooth smile pulls an equally toothy smile from you.

“Eijiro! When did you get back? I’ve missed you.” You rush to the redhead, and he reciprocates your hug, holding you tight.

“Man, I’ve missed you too (Y/N). The States were cool, but there’s no manlier place than home sweet home.” You pull back and take him in. He looks the exact same if not a little bit more tanned.

“Damn straight.” Yaoyorozu arrives at the end of your reunion. Her excitement at seeing her old friend is nearly palatable. They catch up enthusiastically, and you saddle up next to your boyfriend, who’s finally gotten his blush under control.

“Hey, babe.” You give his cheek a chaste kiss, and he smiles.

“Hey, love,” Izuku gives your hand a squeeze, “How was your day?”

“It was pretty run of the mill except for the utter shitstorm Yaomomo and I had to clean up in Minato City.” You glance down and watch his feet shuffle from side to side.

“Huh, sounds pretty epic.”

“Not the first, second, or even the third word I’d use, but we’re all entitled to our opinions. And don’t you try acting coy with me, Izuku! That blonde ticking time grenade, the confused weather pattern, and your quirk were all over that place.” Izuku gulps.

“I expended a lot of energy cleaning up after you and your friends baka. As compensation, you’ve gotta cook me curry rice. Deal?”

He kisses your cheek in assent.

“Great!” You beam. “I’m gonna go change, be back in fifteen.” You disappear through the agency’s massive double doors. Yaomomo watches until you’re out of view before she walks over to Midoriya.

“So about (Y/N) ’s birthday . . .”

−−−−−−−−−−−−−−−−

When you come out, you find a peculiar scene waiting for you. Yaoyorozu has crafted a fan for, you presume, Izuku, who is so red you could almost see the light refraction from his face’s heat and sweating by what looks like the gallon. Eijiro is by his side, trying to calm him down. You heighten the sensitivity of your cochlea to pick up the tail end of their conversation.

“It’ll be super manly, dude!”

“Bu-but I’ve never . . .” Your boyfriend seems tongue-tied.

“You’ve definitely got it in you,” Eijiro slaps Izuku on the back, “Plus Ultra!”

Izuku echoes Eijiro, but you can tell his heart isn’t in it.

You return to your average level of hearing and walk up to the trio.

“Everything good?” They all look at you with expressions that clearly scream, ‘No, everything is not good dumbass.’

“Riiight, foolish question. Izuku, babe, do you need me to help you?” He squeaks, and that stops you dead in your tracks. The last time he had squeaked in your presence was when he’d asked you out on your first date, and you think it was mostly because you had bluntly told him you had every intention of having sex with him if not after your first then for sure after your second date. He didn’t even squawk when you made good on your declaration, and you had been positive he was going to. Your assurance cost you a ¥2,000 bet with Ochako and Shoto. Whatever had transpired while you were changing had him spooked.

You crouch down and gently take his face between your hands. His cheeks are unnaturally warm. Closing your eyes, you reach out with your quirk to scan his vitals. What the actual fuck? Izuku’s pregenual anterior cingulate cortex is enormous. Your boyfriend is next level embarrassed. His heart rate is in the 200bpm range, which should have been impossible because it only ever got that high when he was exercising, and you were quite familiar with getting it there.

You’re honestly shocked his heart hasn’t started to palpitate with the sky-high levels of cortisol in his blood and high heart rate. Taking a deep breath, you begin to gently persuade the firing neurons near his PACC to chill, its size slowly decreases. You travel down to his hypothalamus and rearrange some of its chemical balance, so it stops producing corticotropin-releasing hormone, creating a negative feedback loop that would lead to his body to drop its cortisol production. You vasoconstrict a handful of the blood vessels in his face for good measure, hoping to cool it down. Your eyes flutter open, and the ruddiness is gone, and his cheeks feel cool against your palms. He gives you a weak smile and gosh that smile, these freckles, those lively emerald eyes. You lean your forehead against his, taking a moment to collect yourself. You kiss the tip of his nose before pulling yourself up, stretching once you’re fully upright.

“Well damn, I’m starving now. I know I said you had to cook for me, but I don’t think I’ll last. What do you say, Number 1. Hero, care to take me out to eat?”

Izuku gets to his feet, with a bit of help from Eijiro, who keeps a hand wrapped around his waist to keep him from stumbling.

“Yeah, of course, love. Just tell me where you want to eat.”

You grin in delight. Before making a decision, you turn to your two other companions. You’re not sure when Yaomomo had time to change, but she’s no longer in her hero costume.

“Would y’all like to join us? Izuku’s treat.” Your cinnamon roll’s protest is drowned out by their loud acceptance.

“I mean, if my bro is gonna treat us, then how could I say no?”

“How gracious Izuku, I’d love to share a meal with everyone.”

“Let’s get going then!” You grab Izuku’s hand and turn around, heading in the direction of the train stop. The walk will give you time to decide where you want to eat.

−−−−−−−−−−−−−−−−

“Hold on one sec, almost got it.” You pace next to Izuku; the pressure on your bladder almost debilitating. At the click of your front door unlocking and seeing Izuku push it open, you rush through over the threshold. You kick the heels off your feet, your slippers abandoned at the entryway as you make a break for the bathroom. You can’t get your underwear off quick enough. The relief is almost pleasurable. You’d forgotten what it felt like to pee while exceedingly inebriated. Typically when you go out drinking, you elevate your liver’s production of alcohol dehydrogenase so you can avoid getting drunk, but tonight was your birthday celebration, and you wanted to get shitfaced, so you dialed it back. Now that you’re home and not interested in a hangover, you make the necessary adjustments to your liver. The night out had been a pleasant surprise. More people had shown up than you’d been led to believe would, most importantly, your younger siblings had stopped by — you hadn’t seen them since moving to Musutafu to pursue your hero career. You finish reminiscing over the night’s events. Quickly wiping, you flush the toilet and wash your hands. When you open the door, you find your slippers are there waiting. He was a total sweetheart.

You slide your sore feet in and sigh at the fluffiness. You make your way to your bedroom, surprised to find it empty. Where had Izuku gone? You take off your earrings, dropping them into your jewelry box. Making your way to the main bathroom connected to your room, you’ve just finished wiping away your makeup when you hear the door open. You walk to the bathroom door to peek and gasp as soon as you spot the figure closing the door behind them. Now you’d be the first to admit you are a horny bitch, but never have you felt your pussy throb with such a deep longing the way it was throbbing now. You stand still dumbfounded at seeing Izuku in his hero costume in your bedroom.

“Babe?” You try to suppress the quiver in your voice.

“Ma’am,” He tilts his head in greeting, “I got reports of a villain in the vicinity. I’m Deku, and I’m here to take care of you.”

Why the fuck did he just introduce himself? And a villain? You reach out with your quirk but don’t feel an unknown presence nearby. You start to walk towards him but stop at the foot of your bed. He meets you there, and you don’t know what to expect, but it definitely was not him pushing you onto your back. You fall with a muffled thud against the comforter. You stare up at him at a complete loss. You then become hyper-aware of what you’re wearing. The sparkling strappy mini dress leaves little to the imagination, and you’re positive that from his angle, Izuku can see your panties and the growing evidence of your arousal.

“Apologies, ma’am, but I’ll be using my quirk to restrain you as a precautionary measure.” Your mouth goes dry as you watch Blackwhip manifest wrapping around your wrists, pulling your arms above your head, and adhering to your shared bed’s headboard. You have to scoot yourself back a few inches to ease the tension in your shoulders. Holy shit. He just tied you up. This whole time he’s been standing at the end of the bed taking you in. You know your face is flushed, and you can feel your nipples brushing against the material of your dress now that you’re so turned on. Izuku’s hands come into view, and that somehow gets your mouth to work again.

“What are you going to do?” You arch an eyebrow and part your lips to let your tongue dart out and wet them. Fuck Yaomomo wasn’t off the mark with her comment.

“I’ll need to do a full-body search to ensure you’re not concealing anything illegal on your person.” You don’t have time to respond before his gloved hands caress down your pinned arms, across where your neck and shoulders meet. Leaving goosebumps in their wake. He cups your breasts, his thumbs brushing over your hardened nipples. You groan as the sensation travels down, pooling between your legs. He moves down your sides, slowly over your exposed thighs sticking strictly to the outside of your legs until he reaches mid-calf. You feel his hands move, and suddenly their inching closer to your aching cunt. Using his right hand Izuku runs a finger teasingly up between your clothed slit and your hips give an involuntary buck. He removes his finger and tuts at you, that pisses you off.

“What the fuck Izu —” You stop yourself when you see another tendril of black materialize near your face.

“Don’t make me gag you. My name is Deku, and you will address me as Deku-sama.” There’s a finality in his tone that leaves no room for argument. You’re torn between being really fucking aroused and very vexed at this role reversal. You’d always been on top, literally and figuratively, and now here he was, your cinnamon roll, threatening to gag you and not even blushing about it. He takes your silence as understanding and begins to hike up the bottom of your dress. With your midriff exposed, he finally settles between your legs, his toned abdomen flush against you. He places an open-mouthed kiss just above your belly button, his tongue flicks out to taste your skin. Izuku’s lips continue to roam over every inch of your exposed abdomen, sucking and biting. He’s going to leave love marks all over your stomach, you’re sure. His hands travel up under your dress, coming to rest just below your breasts. You feel the flat of his tongue working its way towards his hands. When you can feel his breath tickling you already hard nipples, he pulls his face away. You squirm and pull against your restraint — you feel them tighten.

“What is it you want, villain?” Fuuuck. The word falls from his lips wrapped in sinful promise sending another steady pulse of need through your body. Your nervous system was on fire.

“I want you to touch me.” You try to taper down the pleading in your voice, but the mildly amused expression on Izuku’s face says you failed.

“Like this?” His hand runs down your neck, over your dress and through the valley of your cleavage, past your naval stopping at the band of your panties. It dawns on you that he was teasing you.

“Or like this?” You’re not sure when his gloves came off or how he managed it, but one second you’re covered by the flimsy dress material next, the straps keeping it up are torn, and the dress pulled down. You hiss at the shock of the sudden temperature change, but quickly warm up as calloused fingers massage your breasts. A greedy moan is the only answer you can manage as you arch your back into his touch. He leans closer, breath warm against your neck, and moves a hand down to grip your ass,

“Let’s see if these are illegal buns of steel.” Even with how incredibly husky his voice is, you almost laugh at his remark’s absolute absurdity. Still, having maybe foreseen your reaction Izuku wraps one of your nipples between his lips before you can utter a sound.

“Deku-sama.” You inhale sharply coming completely unwound as his tongue flicks and swirls. His mouth sucks and pulls playfully. When his teeth graze your nipple, you contemplate making your hands boneless to escape the restraints just so you could tangle your hands in his hair; even with the undercut, you knew you could make him moan. The idea is quickly dashed as Izuku releases your now overly sensitive bud with a resounding pop that sends the ache in your pussy into a frenzy. Good god , he hasn’t even gotten inside of you yet. He treats your other nipple with much the same attention. However, this time, he lets his teeth give it a gentle nibble, and the shock of the feeling causes your skin to prickle. You feel him grin at your reaction before giving your nipple a farewell lick. He captures your lips, shoving his hips down against your own, as his hands’ ghost over your neck. You hook a leg around his hip, pulling him closer, trying to create as much friction as possible as you roll your hips upward. He lets out a breathy chuckle, as his mouth moves to replace his hands. He kisses up your neck, his breath tickles your ear, and you stutter out a needy whimper.

“Someone’s eager.” You groan in frustration as he pulls back. His hands grab hold of what’s left of your dress, and you help him get you out of it. He runs a finger up your stomach, stopping just below your sternum. The tip of his index finger traces a lazy circle before leaving a trail of goosebumps back down to your hip. The pressure of his finger is replaced by his mouth, biting the flesh of your hip crease hungrily. He kisses his away across to your opposite hip, traces of his kisses wet against your skin. You feel his fingers toying with the lacy hem of your panties before he hooks them in the elastic, pulling them down. You lift your hips as they pass over the curve of your ass, and you wriggle in anticipation. Izuku braces his left forearm against your right thigh, pushing your legs wider. His index finger explores your wet folds, dipping briefly into your slit, before brushing against your swollen clitoris.

“Deku-sama, please .” You don’t care how desperate you sound, the ache in your pussy is becoming unbearable. The slow burn was killing you.

“Since you said, please.” He slips a thick finger inside of you, curling it just so it massages the soft and spongy spot that makes your toes curl and lewd obscenities fall from your parted lips.

“Aah, fuck. Fuck, yes, there, right there. More. Izuku give me more.” A second finger is roughly inserted. You cry out as a jolt of ecstasy consumes every inch of you. He begins to scissor his fingers back and forth, “It’s De-ku sa-ma,” each thrust emphasizing the syllables of his declaration. You rock your hips up, trying to get his fingers deeper because you are close. You can feel the dam getting ready to burst. When his thumb circles your clit, you feel yourself clench around his fingers. He inhales sharply. You bite back a moan as stars begin to dance across your vision. The rhythm of his fingers picks up, and the pressure on your clit begins to be too much.

“You’re about to cum.” It’s not a question, but you manage to pant a yes, and it becomes your undoing. Tongue replaces fingers before you can bemoan feeling empty, hands wrap under your thighs, keeping you exposed when they instinctively try to shut. His fingers dig into soft flesh, and the pain leaves you dizzy for more. He unhooks his left arm from your thigh, again using his forearm to keep your leg down. Two fingers spread you open, and his breath is warm, and you screw your eyes shut because fucking hell, you feel ready to erupt. You feel the warmth of his tongue as it slips inside you and starts to lick around. His nose brushes against your clit as he laps up your wetness. When he takes your clitoris in his mouth, you feel yourself at the edge of a precipice.

“Y-your fin-fingers. Deku-sama.” You frantically tug against your binds as you arch your hips rutting into his face. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. You feel yourself drowning in pleasure when his fingers join back in the fray. You’re full, and his tongue is everywhere. Inside you along with his fingers, pressing in all the right places. There’s no room to be embarrassed by your body’s wet sounds as you thrust against his fingers or the sounds he’s eliciting from you — loud, throaty, and gluttonous. He laps up the juices wherever they end up, on your thighs, in your folds, the space between your pussy and ass. At your clit he teases with nibbles, quick flicks of his tongue, and long flat strokes. He was treating you like you were his favorite meal. Coming back for seconds, thirds, fourths. You lose track of time. The air crackles with electricity, Izuku, the electromagnet to your copper coils. It sparks against your skin. Were you doing that? You couldn’t tell, but it didn’t matter because something was building. You feel it in your core, your quirk causing your atoms to buzz in excitement. He lets you hook your legs around his back, locking your ankles. You make a strangled noise when a particularly aggressive thrust combined with the head-splitting euphoria of Izuku’s tongue on your clit brings your Earth stuttering on its axis.

“Oh fuck, oh kami. Shit, Deku-sama!”

You flicker in and out. One second howling Izuku’s name like a prayer to the Gods, hips rolling up to meet his mouth. The next, you find yourself weightless in a void no longer in a corporeal form. What the fuck? It lasts no longer than a second before you return to your body and the sound of him cooing against your aching cunt.

“That’s it, cum villain. Cum for me.” And cum, you do. Waves of fiery ecstasy set your body aflame. You clench your fists and use your legs to pull Izuku’s face further flush against you. When you think you can catch your breath, Izuku surprises you by coaxing you into another smaller orgasm. You don’t know how he did it, but you really can’t complain, you’re feeling blissful as fuck. The bed creaks as he shifts back onto his knees, unwrapping your legs from around him. Blachwip is deactivated, and your arms fall uselessly to your sides. You feel your legs quiver from exertion, and you watch your chest rise in fall sporadically as your breathing levels off. You prop yourself up on your elbow to give Izuku a once over. He’s got a bit of sweat on his forehead, you can see the outline of his erection against the front of his hero costume, and your cum glistens on his nose, mouth, and chin. Not sure how you manage it, with your body feeling so close to putty, but you scoot back, pulling yourself up into a seated position, and rock forward onto your knees so you’re facing him.

You move closer, so your knees brush against his. Now that you’re close enough, you can see how blown his pupils are. They almost wholly eclipse the dark shamrock of his irises. He had it bad for you. You could fix that. You grab his chin between your thumb and forefinger, tilting it down to your lips so you can lick it clean. When your tongue traces the outline of his mouth, a low moan rumbles in the back of his throat. You get his mouth open with a hard nip to his bottom lip. Tasting yourself in his mouth and on his tongue makes you squeeze your thighs together briefly before you let your free hand wander between your legs to stroke your clit and moistening labia. You give the tip of his nose a cutesy peck that almost brings a blush to his freckled face, but he remains in character, so you palm his cock with your damp hand grinning devilishly when he stutters an exhale.

“I want you, hero.”

Izuku’s chuckle is rich, and you can feel it reverberate against where your chests connect. You start to toy with the hair at the nape of his neck, the short buzz of his undercut tickles your fingertips. Sliding your hand up, you finally get to tangle your fist in his hair, your grip tightens, and you pull his head back, exposing his neck. Your tongue darts out to lick a stripe up to just below his earlobe, all the while your hand strokes him into fully hardening.

“I’m not fucking around, Deku.” Your voice is thick and your tone dark, dangerous. He grabs the wrist of the hand that’s between his legs and growls,

“Neither am I villain slut.” You swallow hard at his inflection on the word slut. You’d never been called a slut during sex, and under any other circumstance, you’re sure it wouldn’t have sent a thrill of arousal pulsing from your fingertips down to your toes. He brings the hand up above your head, reaching behind his head to grab your second hand. You give him a feral grin, and his eyes flash before he sends you to your back. You’re about to stretch out your legs when he commands you to flip over onto your hands and knees. You do as you’re told, biting your lip as warmth begins to once again pool between your legs. You wish you could help him out of his costume, but it sounds like your help wasn’t needed. His dick grazes against the back of your thighs. A finger follows the curve of your spine. You arch into the touch and moan when it dips at your hip to tap your clitoris.

“You’re so wet already. You villains really know nothing about bedroom decorum.” He skims a hand over your stomach, stopping to grope and tease your hardened nipples.

“Oh? Keeping a woman in suspense isn’t exactly proper in my book De-ku sa-ma.” You look over your shoulder with a smirk.

“You’re,” he thrust into you without warning, quickly turning the grin on your face into an open-mouthed ‘oh,’ “not,” he pulls out, so the tip of his head just barely touches your cunt, “a woman.” He pushes into you, swearing under his breath as you push your hips back to meet his momentum. A ragged breath escapes your lips as you adjust to him, filling you. Shit, the boy is thick. His nails dig into your hip as he continues to fuck you at a painfully slow pace. Fingers tweak your nipples, and you feel your whole body flush with pleasure. You clutch the bedsheets in two tight fists when he starts to quicken his thrusts. His chest is slick with sweat against your back, his tongue tracing circles into your shoulder. An aggressive stroke sends the head of his cock rubbing up against your G-spot, and you feel your walls squeeze around him.

“Shit, shit, fuck Deku. That’s it. Just keep putting pressure on that spot.” You feel your elbows buckle, and you expect to crash into the bed. Instead, black tendrils wrap around your arms to keep you upright. This is definitely not how Lariat intended Blackwhip’s tendrils to be used. The thought makes you giggle. It seems that this was not a sound Izuku wanted to hear coming from you. He bites down on the spot of your shoulder he’d been suckling, making his displeasure known. You feel him adjust himself behind you, perhaps too quickly, because he slips out of you, and you protest immediately with a loud whine.

“I’ll give you something to whine about.” He thrust back into you, your knees go weak, and your pussy’s stimulation begins to pull the taught rope of your impending orgasm closer to snapping. One of his hands grabs the hair at the base of your neck, tugging with just enough force to tease a guttural mewl from you.

“That’s more like it.” You’re so overstimulated, with the rhythm of his dick coming in and out of you. The attention he’s paying to your clit, you scarcely have the headspace to be shocked by the personality change. Izuku doesn’t release his hold on your hair; instead, he deactivates Blackwhip and uses the grip to guide you, so your back is flush against his chest. You can smell the muskiness of his sweat with him so close. It mingles in the air with the scent of your arousal. Sex, the whole room smelled heavily of your fucking. He brushes a thumb over your bottom lip, pulling it down gently. You open your mouth, taking it in, holding it gently between your teeth, your lips acting as a cushion. You suck on Izuku’s thumb, letting your tongue swirl over the tip treating it how you would if you were instead sucking on the head of his cock. You hollow out your cheek and release his thumb with a satisfying pop. Your reward is the sound of Izuku’s heated gasp. The sound tightens the coil in your groin. You feel his right hand lightly trailing up your side. You expect him to stop to cup your breast, but a tingle runs up your spine when he skips it entirely. His thumb rests a few inches under your right ear, the fleshy part of his palm rests against your trachea, the remaining four fingers occupy the same spot under the opposite ear. You can’t hide your excitement as he begins to apply light pressure to your neck. It’s amplified when he whispers in your ear,

“Whose slut are you, villain?”

“I’m yours. All yours.” He squeezes a little tighter, and you squirm, gripping his left hip for stability.

“Yours, Deku-sama. I’m all yours.” You choke over the words while he loosens his grip satisfied with your correction. The brief bout of intoxicating lightheadedness dissipates quickly, but he keeps his hand around your neck.

You feel him, hard and slick, throbbing inside you, and you know he’s close. You prepare to ride out the coming crescendo that you’ll set off with your silver tongue.

“You’re getting close, aren’t you, hero? I can feel your cock pulsing.” He squeezes your neck tighter than he has before reminding you who was in charge. You dig your nails into his hip and bite your lip. Was he turning into a masochist, or were you?

“I want you to cum in me. Make me your bona fide villain bitch — think you’re up for it, big boy?” You were being so bold, goading him. It does the trick. He releases his hold on your neck, you’re a little sad, but are swiftly distracted by a sudden burst of heat and green energy crackling, the telltale sign of Full Cowl being activated. What the hell was he up to? Your answer comes moments later when his hands push your bent legs further apart, hooking his arms under your thighs to lift them up. You feel weightless, free, and so very wanton. Then like being dosed with ice-cold water, you come back to your senses; you’ve always been terrified of being picked up during sex. Your arms flail, searching for anything to grab hold of. They settle awkwardly at Izuku’s neck. Your breathing is a little erratic.

“You’re not scared of heights, are you?” Oh, he was being a total ass.

“Absolutely not.” You bite back.

“Heh.”

Sensing your discomfort, he places you back down on your knees, his hand returning to your neck — where it belonged. Shit, it was you, you’re the masochist. You feel him throb inside you, the head of his penis gets a little bigger and his cock harder. His movements become more sporadic. You take his free hand and lead it to your clit, you’d be damned if he cums before you. His groans become music to your ears, loud and ravenous as you roll your hips to meet his thrusts. Soon that’s all you can feel, like tunnel vision nothing else matters, there are no other options, but his cock burying itself deeper and deeper inside you as his fingers dance around your clit. He flicks and pulls, rubs circles, and you savor every second of it. Everything cumulates into a blinding flash of white-hot light as if you’re staring directly at burning magnesium. You hear him crying out your name, and it mixes with your carnal pleas into a cacophonous soundtrack to your mutual climax. He finishes inside you, the thick viscous liquid of his orgasm, filling you with more warmth than you anticipated. As you ride out your orgasm, you don’t stop gyrating your hips until you feel Izuku become soft. You let out a shaky breath as you come to a stop to catch your breath. You’re thankful that he doesn’t seem eager to pull out quite yet while you bask in the quiet exhilaration of having orgasmed three times this night.

“I’m going to pull out now, okay?”

You nod your head slightly, words out of reach with your euphoria’s hum still clouding your mind. Cum trickles down between your thighs, the sensation almost ticklish, but far more erotic. With nothing connecting you to Izuku, your body gives in to its exhaustion, falling forward unceremoniously. He wraps an arm around your waist, setting you gently down on your stomach. Rolling onto your back, you shimmy up onto a pillow to support your head. You glance up at Izuku and sigh in content. Hair stuck to his head, abs contracting as he slows his breathing (his heart rate close to 180bpm), and his left-hand traces the scars on his right arm absently. Even in such a worn-out state, he looked otherworldly. You lock eyes, and you pat his side of the bed next to you.

“Cuddle with me.” At hearing those three words, he sheds his façade, his eyes soften, his jaw loosens, and he eagerly obliges your request. He rests his head on your chest, your fingers playing with his hair as he gently brushes your side. You stay like this for a few minutes until he starts out of your arms like someone’s lit a fire under his ass. He sits up, you follow suit intrigued by what’s got him so worked up. You watch him reach across towards his nightstand. He pulls out a notebook and a pencil. You have to suppress your snort as he begins scribbling furiously. You couldn’t even pretend to be surprised, catching bits and pieces of his muttering.

“. . . dominated . . . choking . . . loud . . . buns of steel. . .” You can’t stifle the laugh that escapes you. He glances up and gives you a sheepish grin, his face like he’s been caught doing something he shouldn’t.

“You fucked me into another dimension, jot that down in your sex notebook.” A blush erupts across his face.

“I-I what? Seriously?”

“Mhmm, as seriously as my orgasm.” Embarrassment flickers momentarily in his eyes, quickly replaced by intense curiosity. You dare say you see a little triumphant gleam too.

“What happened, tell me everything, love.” You recount what he’d been doing with his tongue and fingers. The feeling leading up to it and what it looked like in this other dimension.

“Sounds like you’ve unlocked another facet of your quirk.”

“Looks like it, but it’s not really useful.” He gives you an inquiring look; you roll your eyes. He could be so dense sometimes.

“I can’t exactly have you eating me out in public every time I want to astral project now, can I?” His blush returns full force.

“Maybe there’s another way.”

“Possibly, but I’m beat. My legs feel like jello, and I’m starting to feel sore.” You massage your neck, glancing at your exposed breasts and the marks that speckle them. Izuku looks at you with worry.

“You can’t fix it with your quirk?”

“I can, but where’s the fun in that? One of my favorite parts of sex is feeling it the next day. I’m definitely going to tomorrow and maybe the day after thanks to you.” You give him a wink and admire as he fumbles with his words.

“Oh! Well, I mean. Yeah. No problem. I think?” He was definitely back to being your cinnamon roll. You giggle quietly.

“Before I go clean up, I’ve gotta know. How did you do that.” You motion with your hand, hoping he picks up what you’re putting down. He does.

“Simple, lots of research.” You squint at him, touching the pulse at his neck. It was slightly elevated.

“Ah-huh, and what else?”

“No-nothing!” The pulse quickens a little more.

“Did you role play with someone?” The idea sounds absolutely preposterous, but when he pushes your hand away from his neck and gets up off the bed, you know you’ve struck a nerve.

“You’re using your quirk, that’s not fair.”

“All’s fair in love and war. So, who was it with? Shoto? Eiji? Or was it Katsuki ?” The light hue of pink that creeps up his neck is all the confirmation you need.

“Ah,” you bob your head sagely, “it makes sense, babe, he gives off a total masochist vibe. I’d have practiced with him too. What was it like? Would he be open to a threesome? Or would it be a foursome since he’s got that not, so secret thing going with Eiji? Could I even handle the three of you?” You wonder out loud.

“(Y/N)!” Izuku rushes into the bathroom, adamantly trying to end this conversation. You weren’t letting this go, oh no siree, so you get out of bed and walk to the bathroom where Izuku’s turned on the shower and is standing under its current.

“Nice try. You’re giving me the details.” He sighs defeatedly.

“Can it wait until we’re in the bath.” You cross your arms in a huff, pouting.

“I guess.” Izuku grabs you, pulling you into the shower with him. You wrap your arms around his waist, resting your cheek against his chest. He gives the top of your head a kiss.

“Happy birthday, (Y/N).”

Happy fucking birthday to me. You smile to yourself.

#bnha x reader #midoriya x reader #midoriya smut #midoriya izuku #midoriya fic #reader is female #reader insert #midoriya fluff #the gift that keeps on giving

273 notes · View notes

rhysismydaddy · 4 years ago

Text

Unholy Matrimony Pt. 1 (Nessian)

Nesta’s part of the Damnation Series.

OOF this took so long sorry. I rewrote it, changed it, then deleted it entirely about 9 times. I literally started writing the version before you, from scratch, on Sunday. All parts are linked below, so I’m only tagging people on this version! To go to the next chapter, there is also a link at the bottom <3

ALSO, an important caviat: Nesta is an only child in this one! I originally wrote it for her to be adopted and not know it, but it wasn’t really relevant to the story, so... idk. Just ignore that plot hole I guess.

Parts 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 -- pls like each part I’m insecure

______________________________________________

~Cassian~

“You’re getting married.”

The glass of bourbon halfway to my mouth pauses, because despite being known for being rash and unpredictable, even I’m surprised by the sudden change in conversation.

My eyebrows raise as I look over at Rhysand, my best friend and Capo, trying to figure out if this bastard is serious. His tone says he is, but that doesn’t make sense, because before a few seconds ago, the word “marriage” was in neither of our vocabularies.

He’s been single for as long as I have, although I’m starting to suspect he’s got a bird in the city. He’s too damn happy these days, and the other day I saw him laugh at something on his phone.

Which is weird, because we both know long-term commitments don’t really do well with our lifestyle.

We were raised to not give a shit about anything except the job. We kill without remorse, live in the shadows, and whatever other shitty euphemism you want to use. Settling down in some suburban, picket-fence prison has absolutely no appeal to Made Men.

Don’t get me wrong, most of us get married at some point. But never for love.

Some men choose a bride that’s pretty and sweet. Someone who will donate to charity and help clean up their image. Governors’ daughters, women from old-money families, and social princesses make up this category.

Some men marry to advance their station in the Family. Second sons who will never inherit the business marry daughters of Underbosses to get a nice boost to their status.

And then there’s the ones who are forced to marry by their capo--ie. me-- so they choose whatever attractive woman that’s in the Family and available. Those are always the happiest.

But regardless of the reasoning, marriage in the mafia is heartless, political, and for me, unnecessary.

I know I’ll have to pick someone eventually, but there aren’t a whole lot of desirable options at the moment. Not many of the other Underbosses have daughters that are over the age of fifteen right now, and I have no interest in doing the child-bride thing.

Plus, there’s no way I’d marry someone outside of the family. At my rank, it isn’t an option.

That leaves... a widow?

The only one I know is Ianthe, and considering I highly suspect she killed her last husband and the fact that she’s crazy, there’s no way in hell I’d legally bind myself to her for life.

So he must be joking.

I take a pull from my cigar and look over at Rhys with narrowed eyes. “Uh huh. Sure. To who, exactly?”

“Volchonok.”

The Wolf Cub.

The cigar snaps in my fingers.

“You’re fucking kidding,” I say, honestly hoping that’s the case. He’s either that or insane, and I’d hate to lock someone who’s like a brother to me in a padded room.

Rhysand’s unflinching gaze doesn’t change, but his tone morphs from that of my friend to my boss. “You will marry her, Cassian.”

“She’s a fucking Russian,” I spit, not understanding. That should be reason enough for him to be joking.

In our world, being Russian is a crime similar to stabbing the Pope.

We’ve been at war over New York with them ever since they decided to try and get a stronghold on the east coast, and I’ve killed more of them than I can fucking count. Now I’m marrying one?

“Yes, she is, and so is her father, Alexei Olov.” Aka the Bratva Boss responsible for blowing up half of St. Petersburg last year when the local police refused to buy his weapons. “You will marry her, move to New York full time, and run the city with her by your side.”

“Why? Two or three more years, and we’ll have the city anyway.” Every day the Russians get weaker, and I’ve been responsible for pushing them out of my city block by block.

So there has to be a reason we’re suddenly okay with the enemy.

Rhysand sighs. “It was his idea, not mine. Orlov has agreed to sell our coke in Moscow and Seattle instead of his usual dealer and will supply us all the weapons we need for five years. There will also be no more midnight raids, bullshit arrests on bullshit charges, or missing shipments. He’s offering you a dowry, too.”

I don’t need his money, but the old fashioned term makes me laugh.

“Yeah? And how much does he think his wolf cub is worth?”

His lips twitch. “Ten million.”

“She must be a real pain in the ass, then, if he’s going to pay me that much to take her,” I chuckle.

Not that ten million dollars is anything but pocket change for the man. Orlov may be losing the fight in New York, but the bastard is richer than sin.

Selling arms to half of the entire world will do that to a person.

“I hear she’s beautiful,” he says, trying to tempt me to not fight him.

“Then you marry her,” I shoot back, not ready to give up the argument.

“I don’t feel like it.” Fucking typical. Rhysand sighs. “You and I both know we can work this deal to our advantage, so what will make you say yes?”

He could order to me to say yes and I’d have to, but he hates enforcing that kind of authority with me.

So I think it over, make a show of lighting a new cigar. “I want Sera.”

It’s a burlesque club in New York I’ve always been a little envious of, owned by Orlov and operated by his men. I’d tried to buy it a few years back but hadn’t had enough leverage on the Russian to strongarm him into selling.

Now I do.

Rhysand--the only one who knows about my failed attempt to buy the place--nods and tells me he’ll make it happen.

“When’s all this happening, anyway?”

He looks like he might laugh. “Wedding is in a month, but she’s flying in tomorrow night.”

A quick laugh forces its way out of me. Also typical of him to give me absolutely no time to change my mind.

Well, I have a month. That’s already longer than any relationship I’ve ever had.

Sighing, I stand and shake his hand, cementing the deal before I can even lament the loss of my bachelorhood.

~Nesta~

“Chto sluchilos?”

I slide my gaze to my father, because seriously, that’s the stupidest fucking question I’ve ever heard.

What’s wrong? What’s wrong? Everything.

“Nichego,” I lie, assuring him for what feels like the tenth time as I look out the window. The plane picks up speed and lifts off, taking me towards an uncertain future, an uncertain place.

I might have told him nothing’s wrong, but inside, I’m screaming.

Three days ago, I woke up to find a marriage contract on the pillow beside me. There was a blank space where my name had been typed and a pen waiting for me to remedy that.

I still haven’t.

I’m not signing anything until I meet this... Cassian.

God, what an Italian name.

An image springs to mind, one of a slumped-over, hairy-chest beast with slicked back hair and a gold chain.

I know it’s stereotypical and hopefully incorrect, but I’ve never been to Italy and Alexei strictly forbids me watching movies that portray Italians as anything except revolting.

But looks aside, there’s one thing I don’t need to guess to know.

My future husband will be like all the other men in my life: controlling.

Men in the world I live in take what they want, don’t ask for permission, and feel like they’re entitled to anything and everything. I’ve dealt with it my entire life, so it’s more amusing than anything at this point.

I guess I’m a bit non-traditional in that sense, considering most of the women around me have no problems taking orders from their fathers or husbands. But Alexei and I figured out pretty early in life that wasn’t going to work for me.

As he frequently likes to tell me, I started telling him to fuck off when I was five.

What did he expect? All the kids I hung out with were the opposite sex and at least five years older than me, so my vocabulary and mannerisms became pretty... colorful early on.

Regardless, I’m just not looking forward to having to deal with yet another man who thinks he can control me.

“Ty vresh',” Alexei accuses, lips twitching. You’re lying.

“Konechno.” Of course.

Of course I’m upset, but I understand what’s happening. I might have found out about it three days ago, but I’ve known it was coming for far longer.

As the only child of the great Alexei Orlov, Wolf of Moscow and Pakhan of the Russian Bratva, I’ve been told my entire life that I will one day be used as a pawn to gain more power.

It would--should--piss me off, but I’ve also been told I’m to one day take my father’s place and run his company.

So by gaining more power for him, I’m also doing the same for myself.

Not that I really give a shit about that kind of thing. I started officially working for Alexei years ago, and I already have enough money saved to never have to work again.

But in the Bratva, there’s no getting out. I was put in this world by birth, and the only thing that will take me out is death.

In case it isn’t obvious, I’m not a typical business woman.

My father is an arms-dealer.

A less than legal one, if you believe the heinous lies the media spreads about him.

He sells weapons to governments, private armies, and whoever the fuck else has the money to buy.

He’s also built himself a shipping empire to haul said weapons around the globe, runs the drugs and prostitute rings in Moscow, and has enough real estate to rival most small countries.

It probably sounds like I don’t care, and that’s because I don’t.

I like what I do in the sense that I have a mind for business. I went to business school and graduated at the top of my class, and I enjoy running the clubs and hotels I have. Trained by Alexei himself, I’m ruthless in negotiations, enough so that people started calling me the Wolf Cub by the time I was twenty.

But despite being good at it, I’m not particularly fond of the aspect most people think of when they picture my career in the Bratva. I detest drugs, have never hired a prostitute, and don’t really enjoy selling arms to bad people.

The alleyway meetups, the broken bones and bullet holes, and the blown up houses are all a little tiring to me.

Sure, it sounds exciting. And for a while, it was. I used to lose myself in the chaos, used to enjoy coming home with busted knuckles. But I honestly just got tired of it.

Right now, I don’t have to deal with it as much because Alexei’s still alive. But when he dies and I officially take over the family business, I’ll have to be more involved. Even if the thought makes me want to sigh.

I pull out my laptop and look over the financial report for Sera, my newest club in New York. As predicted, everything’s running smoothly.

I turn the laptop around to show my father, grinning when he pulls out his reading glasses and leans closer.

“Starik,” I tease. Old man.

He flicks my forehead, then reads the report and nods. Then he turns to his phone, probably playing Angry Birds or some shit, and leaves me to work.

The plane ride goes by quickly, and by the time we’ve landed in Chicago, I’ve gotten ahead on my schedule for next week, slept, and changed into what I’ve chosen as the “meeting my future husband” dress.

It’s simple and sleek, the black material clinging to my curves without being obscene. It’s long enough to hide the holster on my thigh, not that I feel in any danger with four personal guards stationed near me at all times.

My heels click as I make my way down the plane stairs and across the tarmac to the waiting sedan, and once my luggage and belongings are unloaded, we head to the Italian Capo’s house.

We’re meeting here, finalizing the contract, and then Cassian and I are flying to New York.

My new home.

“Try to look happy,” Alexei tells me, his heavily accented English almost ridiculous to hear. He speaks English only when he’s in the states, and considering he hasn’t come here since I graduated B school two years ago, he’s a little out of practice.

“I’m ecstatic,” I say, intentionally using a word I know he doesn’t understand.

His eyes narrow, because it isn’t the first time I’ve used this trick, but he doesn’t call me out on it. We continue to ride in ecstatic silence, eventually pulling up in front of the Capo’s... house.

It’s almost obscene to call it that, considering it’s fucking huge. Like obnoxiously huge.

I heave a sigh, step out of the car, and take in my surroundings. The neighborhood’s quiet, likely filled with friends of the Cosa Nostra too scared to make any noise.

A butler--seriously, a butler--opens the door and welcomes us inside, and as soon as I step in, I have to repress the urge to roll my eyes.

The amount of dirty money in the air is suffocating. It drips off the vaulted ceilings, down the artwork on the walls, across the marble floors. It’s in the little details of the crystal chandeliers and the mahogany staircase.

Ridiculous.

One look at Alexei’s disgusted face says he’s thinking the same thing.

Don’t get me wrong, we’re rich. Grossly so. Alexei could have ten houses just like this, if he wanted them.

But he doesn’t. He owns property all over the world, but most of it is commercial or apartment complexes--property that makes him money, in other words. This, however, is a massive waste of capital.

The butler leads us further through the house and into an office where four men wait.

One is immediately identifiable as their lawyer, his over-priced cologne making me have to resist the urge to sneeze. The humongous man in the corner is hired muscle, if the boxy shape of the guns under his jacket is any indication.

The man behind the desk is obviously in charge, so I’m guessing he’s the Capo. Rhysand or Rhyland or something weird like that. He takes me in silently, bright eyes not seeming to miss any details.

That leaves the man leaning against the desk to be Cassian Azara.

My fiancé.

Our eyes meet, his golden gaze beautiful and wild, and I have to remember to keep my expression bored.

Because the stereotype, the horrible image I’d conjured up in my mind, couldn’t be further from the truth.

For one, he isn’t hunched-over. He stands tall, leaning a hip against his Capo’s desk with obvious confidence. But I see more than just self-assuredness in his eyes. He seems a little too rough around the edges, wild gaze almost like he’s daring someone to swing at him.

If the confidence didn’t already make him attractive, his looks sure as hell get the job done.

His hairs long and dark and curly, half of it pulled up in a rouge manner that clashes with the suit he’s filling. He has a few days’ stubble, too, like standing still long enough to shave just isn’t an option.

His shoulders are impossibly wide, narrowing down to trim hips and legs long enough to make him tower over everyone in the room.

His knuckles are tattooed and split open, and there’s a cut above his eyebrow that tells me I was correct to assume he’s a fighter by nature.

Usually, that would be a deterrent for me, but there’s something about the way he’s dressed in a dark suit jacket and crisp white shirt while also looking so untamed that has me cocking my head to study him some more.

He studies me, too, beautiful eyes taking in the long blonde hair and bright blue eyes offset by pale skin. He looks at the dress like he can see everything underneath, and I have the strangest urge to blush. Jesus, he’s toxic.

He’s attractive, is what I’m getting at.

Which is not what I had planned on, considering I’d been trying to think of a plan on how to not sleep with him, but suddenly that’s all my mind can focus on.

His lips twitch like he knows what I’m thinking, and I realize we’ve just been standing here staring at each other for a bit too long.

So I turn back to Alexei and shrug like I’ve seen what my future husband has to offer and aren’t impressed in the slightest.

I toss the marriage contract on the desk, grab the Capo’s fancy little fountain pen out of his hand, and sign my name on the blank above my name.

Cassian watches, but I ignore him entirely until the ink has dried. Then I look up at him through my lashes and wink, turn on my heel, and leave the room.

~Cassian~

I think I’m in love.

Fuck.

She hasn’t said a single goddamn word, but the way she looked at me has me feeling itchy all over, anticipation and nerves rolling through me. I feel like I feel before I fight or something exciting happens.

Like I’m primed and ready and need it to happen now.

Nesta Orlov, my bride to be, is nothing like I expected.

I was fully braced for some meek little woman, similar to most of my friends’ wives, to come in and smile and say hello.

But nope. Nesta didn’t smile; she came in like she was walking onto a battlefield.

And she didn’t smile. She looked me over, clinical blue gaze noticing too much, and left me feeling winded. God, she’s beautiful. Just looking at her made me hot.

She also didn’t say hello.

Just signed the contract and left, like this was nothing more to her than a boring business deal. I mean, that’s what it is, but... I don’t know, I expected more of a reaction.

I’ve heard from some Underbosses that their wives cried or raged when they were forced to sign, but shit if that were the case with Nesta. She honest to God looked like she didn’t care.

Alexei, on the other hand, does look a little pissed about the situation, but I couldn’t care less of the old man’s opinion. He’s signed the contract, so to me, he’s irrelevant. Regardless, he and Rhys proceed to iron out some of the details about the wedding and other shit I’m not paying attention to.

Then they shake hands, and the Russian warlord turns to leave.

He reaches the door and looks over his shoulder at me, and there’s amusement in his cold gaze as he mutters, “Udachi.” Good luck.

As soon as he’s gone, Roman and the lawyer follow, leaving me alone with Rhys.

He slides the contract to me, and I sign my name next to hers, making this shit official.

“This should be interesting,” he comments, vague as usual.

I sigh, because I have a feeling interesting isn’t going to cover it.

_____________________________________________________

NEXT CHAPTER

Tags: @elorcan-trash @januarystears @emikadreams @sjm-things @santas-dwynwen @thebitchupstairs @sayosdreams @perseusannabeth @cursebreaker29 @a-bit-of-a-cactus @elriel4life @girl-who-reads-the-books @shinya-hiiragi @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln @ireallyshouldsleeprn @highqueenofelfhame @rowaelinismyotp @nahthanks @ghostlyrose2 @lovemollywho @tillyrubes10 @claralady @tswaney17 @rowanisahunk @superspiritfestival @thegoddessofyou @awesomelena555 @booksofthemoon @greerlunna @jlinez @studyliketate @over300books @justgiu12 @masstrash @aesthetics-11 @bamchickawowow @b00kworm @sleeping-and-books @musicmaam @hizqueen4life @maybekindasortaace

#nessian #nessian fanfiction #acosf countdown #acosf #nesta archeron #cassian #acotar #acotar fanfiction #acosf fanfiction #a court of mist and fury

159 notes · View notes

peculiarscriptures51 · 3 years ago

Text

The one where she’s feeling guilty (KTH)

🌺This one is a bit of a heavy hitter

Taehyung tightly grips Hope's delicate hand in his, keeping a close eye on her walking beside of him. She was actively trying not to waddle too much and not slow the both of them down. She had a hand under her bump, which was mostly hidden by the large black wool trench coat he bought her.

He opens the tall glass door to the maternal facility for her, ushering her inside and following her to her doctor's office for the appointment. Hope was a bit anxious, and she tried not to let it show. But ever since the last miscarriage, and the doctor enabling an order that requires more visits than her first pregnancy, she's been extremely anxious. Not to mention her hormones - which of course made no good contribution to her anxiety.

Taehyung offered a smile, taking her coat for her once the obstetrician closed the door to the office. "It's nice seeing you again, Mrs. Kim. I hope all is well." She greeted politely in her calm voice. She wore a mask but her eyes reflected her kind smile, which she flashed at both expectant parents. Taehyung smiles back as he takes a seat beside his wife, hugging her coat for her.

Despite Hope insisting, Taehyung felt obligated to tag along for this appointment with the baby coming so soon - soon being a matter of days and at most a couple of weeks. Hope's belly was protruding a good bit now that the coat wasn't covering it. She pulls back the hem of her sweater to reveal it. Unlike her last full term pregnancy with Taeyeon (who was currently with Taehyung's parents), she had no stretch marks this time. Hope hated that she had so much of them at first but would treat them as soon as she saw them, always at their darkest point before they can age and become permanent. She made sure to take extra preventive measures this time, and fortunately for her, it worked splendidly.

Hope hardly reacted to the cool gel being rubbed into her stomach, the obstetrician gently smearing it around as she maneuvered the wand, facing her monitor, the same image was projected on the opposite wall for parents to see. Taehyung smiled fondly as he looked up at the moving image, then back at her belly to see it squirming on its own. He muttered about how cute it was.

Hope smiled faintly, peeking up at her husband, who squeezed her shoulder comfortingly. "He's a bit small but otherwise healthy. That's to be expected though, some people just have small babies." She advised, referring to when Taeyeon was delivered, their firstborn was only 4 and a half pounds, roughly 2 kilograms. When you judge the measurement in comparison to the average size, it was a bit small, but to be expected considering that it's normal for firstborns to be lighter than their future siblings. Not to mention, Hope's family had a history of small babies being born, so her genes may also be a factor. Had it not been for the doctor's reassurances, it would certainly be a cause for concern.

"He's full-term, seems eager to come out." she chuckled as Taewon moved inside her belly, seemingly disturbed by the invasive wand. But her face dropped a little, "That placenta is still quite low, but thanks to our visits we had time to work around this."

Hope nods at those words, they weren't easy to swallow, but the doctor was giving it to her smoothly. She takes a wipe and swipes the gel away, "I'd like to discuss the surgery with you two in more detail. But first let's get you," She smiled at Hope, "in a comfortable chair so there's less strain on your back." Taehyung walks around the table and helps his wife off of it since she couldn't see her feet. He has her sit in the cushioned chair beside the doctor's desk, where she took her gloves off and pulled out a file with Hope's legal name on it. Most of their information was electronic, however there was a need for physical records as well, as the procedure was quite serious.

"As you know already we will be performing a cesarean on you, though it will be very difficult for surgeons. You have clear signs of placenta previa, the placenta is covering at least part of your cervix and you've seen that it made finding the gender of your baby difficult until he changed position." Hope nods, Taehyung clenches his jaw at the mention of surgery. It was quite scary for him just to think about and he had respect for anyone who could stomach anything remotely medical. He would make sure to personally thank everyone that had anything to do with Hope's operation.

"The procedure can be dangerous, and you may have a lot of bleeding, especially for the days that follow. You'll most likely need a blood transfusion, and we'll have to monitor you closely in the ward."

Hope bobs her head, her fingers fumbled together as she listened, face steely and frozen with imminent fear of the worst. "And if I were to experience any complications...?"

"I assure you the team will take good care of you. Unfortunately, I wish I could tell you more about the surgical team I'm referring you to." Considering Hope was a rare case, her obstetrician had to refer her to another surgical team to successfully complete the surgery, as it was very difficult and prestigious. She felt her breath start to shake a little bit, and Taehyung noticed the fear dilating her eyes.

"We'll keep a close eye on your son once he's born, and seeing from our check-ups he should be just fine." Hope felt a little better hearing that, but she was still noticeably on edge.

Taehyung looked down at his wife from where he stood behind her. He folded his arms and inquired, "Will I be able to be in the operating room with her?"

"No, sir. Because this is a major surgery that is more tense than an average cesarean, you won't be able to attend. You will see her in the recovery ward as soon as the operation is complete." She stated, her firm tone not seeming to alleviate Hope's main worries.

Taehyung hated the idea of leaving his wife alone to go through something so scary. It was terrifying for him just to think about, and she was the one who had to experience it while being awake the entire time. It was incredibly nerve-wracking, especially considering all that could go wrong.

Her chin was a bit taut, she was trying not to let it quiver. It broke Taehyung's heart to see her eyes glossy and wet.

He walked her out of the office once they had scheduled the operation with the doctor. He gripped her hand tightly, hearing her sigh weakly, her voice sounding thick. "괜찮아, it's okay." He whispered to her, seeing her tears start to fall and helping her wipe them away.

"I'm sorry..." She whispered, that weight settling on her chest, making her body feel even heavier. Taehyung shakes his head at her, wiping her tears again.

"Don't worry, baby. I don't like seeing you cry, okay? Let's get something to eat, hm?" He was trying his best to make her feel better, she was so scared that it made the tremors in her fingers a bit more obvious. He had to get used to her shakes because apparently it was normal for full-term pregnant women to get them, though it was especially concerning for Hope.

He lets her order their food for the both of them, Hope making sure not to get him spicy food, despite her own intense craving for it. She had a hard time looking at anything but her plate and was mostly quiet. Clearly she was thinking about all the terrifying situations the doctor told her about. "Don't focus too much on it, Hobie. It's making you more anxious."

"I can't help it, Tae. What are we gonna do if something goes wrong-" her thick voice forced her to stop and she hides her face with her hands, sniffling and swiping at her eyes. Taehyung places his utensils down, reaching for her wet hands. "Don't cry, baby." He whispered, desperately so. There was nothing he hated more than seeing her feel so helpless and scared and not being able to do anything about it. They had no choice but to put all their trust and complete faith in the professionals.

"I dunno what I'd do if my health is affecting the baby.... What if I'm gone..." Taehyung shakes his head at the terrible words, feeling his own eyes growing hot from the thought.

"We have to think positive, it's all we can do right now, right?" She huffs and bobs her head, staring at their joined hands. Her warm chocolate tones and the honey-golden hues of his joined tightly together. His thumb massages the back of her trembling hand.

"I just feel so guilty, Tae." She huffed hopelessly, eyes wandering around her dish.

He shakes his head, squeezing her hands firmly, not planning on letting go any time soon. "You shouldn't. None of this is your fault baby, it's just how things are and we have to deal with it together. You know I'll be there with you every step of the way, I'll try to be by your side for as long as they'll let me."

"... I know you will, Tae," She muttered solemnly, picking at her food with her chopsticks as she merely looked down at it. "You always do so much for me and I can't even give you what you want."

He furrowed his brows at that, "What do you mean? You're everything I need and more." He wasn't understanding where this grief that she was feeling was suddenly coming from.

Hope's red eyes get teary again and she couldn't stop her chin from quivering. They didn't care that they were getting looks from other tables at this point. "The doctor said I'd have to have a hysterectomy -"

"Only in the worst case scenario." He reminded her I'm an assuring voice, not wanting her to dwell too much in it.

Hope shakes her head, staring at her food, eyes swimming with guilt. She didn't seem to have as much of an appetite as before. "But most of these cases almost always lead to having one. Which would mean I can't give you more kids like you dreamed of."

Taehyung's heart sinks, of course it dawned on him about that possibility. But he hated seeing her so hurt over it. A soft sniffle slips out and she hides her face in her hands again. "I'm so sorry, Taehyung. I'm so sorry, it's not fair to you." She whimpered, the guilt was weighing her shoulders down, as if anchors were chained to them.

He moves closer to her, kneeling beside of her chair, not caring about the stares directed at them or the pictures being taken. "Hope-ah, look at me. Please, baby," She wipes her eyes and reluctantly looks down at him, meeting his strong teary gaze. "Forget about my dream. Right now, you are my main priority. I'm happy with our kids now and if we can't have anymore then I'll be happy with that, too. I'm here to support you through this, don't worry about things we can't control anymore. You need to rest and eat some more of your food."

He flashed her a smile and she fondly returned it, gripping his hands gently. "Thanks, Tae. I can always count on you to make me feel a bit better."

Hope stares quietly out the car window as her husband drives them through the city. She had her hand on her bump and her eyes kept drifting from building to building. It was late afternoon, soon to be the evening. She felt the baby move and looked down at her bump fondly. She felt incredibly scared and resorted to complete silence, towards the point as to where Taehyung had to peek over at her every now and then to make sure she was still breathing.

They shared no words, and the faintness of the music drifting from the radio seemed to be their only company to their definite fear. She subconsciously tapped her bump to the beat of it, as it was one of Taehyung's songs being played, one he wrote for her and their daughter a long time ago. At least, hearing it, Hope could relax a bit more.

Once the car was parked he looked over at her, trying not to let his worry show in his expression. The last thing she needed was to be fretted over and to be reminded of how serious the operation was - she was already well aware of it. He offered a gentle smile, cooing to himself as he studied her tired face. She'd woken up from a nap before they left, since the couple was already prepared and packed for everything since the day prior. Hope wasn't sure when she'd get another good rest and she was exhausted. He helps her unbuckle her seat belt and climbs out of the car first, quickly walking around and helping her out of it. They were expected, so a nurse rolled a wheelchair towards them for Hope to sit in.

The stress she felt had been inducing contractions for the past few days, and considering that walking helps progress them she needed to be off her feet as much as possible. The last thing they wanted was for her water to break prematurely before the operation because that would mean the team would really have to rush to get him out before there was a risk for infection; it would increase any maternal bleeding she may already have because his head would push against her cervix and placenta more. The nurse helps her sit down as Taehyung grabs their bags. Some of which they wouldn't need yet but he wanted to bring them all just in case, it wasn't too much.

"I'll show you two to your room until it's time for the operation," the kind nurse explained, smiling politely at the couple. Taehyung follows the nurse as she pushes Hope into the building and up to their room.

Once the couple was settled, all they had left to do was wait. The surgery would start very soon, and it was making Hope more and more nervous. She was lying in her hospital bed quietly, trying to remedy her shortness of breath. Taehyung sat beside her, trying to get her mind off the procedure by talking about everything else under the sun. As he was calming her down both their parents called, Hope and Taehyung's mother were eager to see the baby and support the growing family, and Taehyung's mother would bring Taeyeon with her, which Hope was excited about. She hadn't seen Taeyeon in person in about two weeks.

Fifteen minutes before the operation their door was knocked on, and the nurses and doctors explained that it was time to prepare for the procedure. Taehyung followed the bed as she was wheeled through the halls, half-listening to the doctor explain what they were doing. All he could think to ask was, "Will she be okay?" As he stared down at his wife. Hope's fear was evident in her eyes, so much so that they became red and wet as she stared at the ceiling. Taehyung keeps in pace with the bed as much as he can, wiping her tears for her, telling her not to cry. It was making his chest ache seeing her so vulnerable, "You'll be okay, Hobie," He whispered, almost as if to reassure himself. "I'll be waiting for you when it's all done, alright?" He didn't want her seeing him upset, because she needed to be strong right now, and he had to be that for her, too.

They turned another corner, at the end of it were a few seats, and in them were their mothers. "Mommy!" Said a bright voice, and Hope turned her head at the sound of it. The bed stopped moving so she could greet her family. Taehyung's mother lifted the toddler onto her hip so they could see each other. Hope smiled at the sight of her daughter, " Taeyeon-ah, my baby girl. How have you been?" she muttered tearfully.

The little girl frowned at the sight of her mother's tears, and reached down to help wipe them with her little hands. "Don' cry, Mommy. Make baby sad." She said in English. Hope hummed fondly. "Okay, sweetheart, Mommy won't cry anymore." Hope's mother tells Taeyeon to give Hope a heart, to which the toddler put her arms over her head and adorably made the shape.

Taehyung rubs his wife's shoulder, leaning down and kissing her lips softly. He couldn't move further beyond this point. "We'll be okay," he whispered to her. "I love you."

She reciprocated his loving words under her breath, and the team wheeled her behind the glass doors, Taehyung followed as nearly as he could, stopping at the yellow line. He huffed a heavy sigh, turning back to their parents and scooping up his daughter into his arms.

Hope felt incredibly uncomfortable on that operation table. She couldn't see anything but the equipment behind her, and the muffled voices of the surgeons mixed together with the pounding of her heart. The baby's levels were being monitored closely, as was she. Her vision was blurry and she felt like she was drifting in and out of reality. It felt grueling with the constant tugging and pulling that every so often made her body jolt. She was glad she hadn't been allowed to eat because she felt extreme nausea settle. She felt quite the jolt of pressure, and suddenly a lot of her weight was alleviated.

She blinked, waiting to hear him cry, but all she could hear were the nurses cooing. A bundle came into her vision and she turned her head toward it. Her tears kept flowing and it made it difficult to see his face, however she couldn't wipe her eyes. He was breathing on his own, though weakly. "My baby... Taewonnie," Hope cooed tearfully. "Ah, you look so much like your father..." She whispered fondly, hearing him sputter as she spoke. The nurse explained that she would bring him to the rest of the family, as Hope was clearly in too much of a daze to say much else.

Hope smiled when she heard him wail from a distance. She struggled to stay conscious as they continued to operate on her.

Baby Taewon was wheeled over to the waiting family. Taeyeon, who had been falling asleep in her Daddy's lap, perked up when the doors opened. "Baby!" She said excitedly, everyone gathers around the cot to look at him. Their mothers coo at him, the ointment in his eyes made them shiny. Taehyung can't help feeling amused by his daughter's fascinated expression. He reaches down to feel the warmth from his son's head, his dark, sparse curls on his head peeking from his pale blue cap.

"He looks like you, Tae!" Hope's mother chuckled, cooing fondly as both women take hundreds of pictures. Taehyung snaps a few himself so that his wife could see him again. He was just barely five pounds, a bit more than his sister. They took him back to infant care, and Taehyung was informed that Hope was out of surgery. He's quick to kiss his daughter's head and set her down, hurriedly following their obstetrician back to Hope's room. She described the surgery as successful, which he was more than relieved to hear.

Hope looked incredibly worn, and pale. He was by her side the very moment he saw her, and kissed her clammy forehead. Her lids fluttered and her gaze wearily focused on him. Taehyung smiles at her, "Hey, Hobie. You did it," Her head bobs stiffly. "How are you feeling?"

She huffed and he noticed her shortness of breath. She muttered something that he had to lean in close to hear, something about her feeling nauseous. "You're sick?" He worried and she nodded again, lids barely open.

Taehyung pokes his head out for a nurse or doctor, and luckily he gets someone's attention. "Tae," he heard his wife croak, sounding weak. The nurse starts to attend to her, though Hope was starting to dry heave and that was no good for her sutures, especially the internal ones. She winced and held her stomach, groaning in pain. "She'll have to go back in, there's internal bleeding." The nurse explained as she called for the surgeons again.

Taehyung stood, lost and unsure what to do. They were wheeling his sick wife back to the operating room and he could only stand there. He was told to join his family again, where he reluctantly told them what had happened in the ten minutes he was gone. Taehyung's shoulders were taut with concern, his gaze glued to the ground and his lips caught between his teeth. Their mothers insisted he sit down and stop pacing, to which he kept bouncing his leg. He couldn't ignore that pang of fear jabbing his chest and swarming down his body, making the chills travel to his fingers.

Taeyeon, who had fallen asleep again, woke up in the midst of her father's quiet panic. She hadn't seen him look so scared before, and it made her scared. She hoped her mother was okay. She slipped out of her Nana's lap and toddled to her father, standing between his legs. The short little girl looked up at him and gripped his knees, her own eyes getting teary at the sight of Taehyung's red ones. He looked down at her with a sigh, lifting her up and sitting her on his thigh. "Don't cry, baby girl." He told her soothingly, despite his own voice being thick. Taeyeon's chin was quivering as she looked at her father and it was breaking his heart further.

"But Daddy's sad..." She whimpered as he fumbled with the end of one of her pigtails, pink barrettes tied at the end of them. He sniffs and shakes his head.

"Daddy's just worried about Mommy is all," he was glad she was asleep when he explained what had happened. He gives her a tight squeeze as she swings her little feet. "When we see her you have to give her a big kiss, okay?" He cooed and her head bobbed. She was still sleepy, but as she leaned into his chest she didn't seem to go back under, constantly squirming where she sat. He fixed her skirt and a loose barrette in her hair. The halls were quiet except for the television broadcasting the news. It felt like another eternity waiting for someone to return. Taehyung subconsciously squeezed his daughter every time he'd think too much about what could go wrong. It was so hard to focus on the positives when he was this scared of losing her. He wasn't religious, but he couldn't help but pray that their greatest fears wouldn't come true.

At last, another hour had dragged by, by now it was late evening and past their daughter's bed time. She was barely staying awake, fighting sleep because she wanted to see her mother. But Taehyung insisted she go home with his mother until morning. Taeyeon didn't want to, but could only whine sleepily in protest. He and his mother-in-law rushed to his wife, who was sleeping. She looked a bit better than before at least, Taehyung was relieved. He sat by her side as the doctor explained what had happened again and how they managed to help her. Taehyung was beyond grateful for such a dedicated medical team to take such great care of his wife, even when facing surprises. At this point, he didn't care about the hysterectomy she had done on her, so long as his wife was okay. It was all he could wish for, and seeing her face after facing so much worry for so long, he was more than glad that they made it through this.

13 notes · View notes

snowe-zolynn-rogers · 3 years ago

Text

Pairings: None

Word Count: 1,702 Words

Summary: Training and Todoroki siblings.

Warnings: Abuse Mention, Death Mention, let me know if I should tag anything else.

Notes: Touya’s clothes include links to what they look like.

Hair Dye Buddies: Chapter 5

"Where are we headed? The teacher dorms?" Touya asked.

"They're right over there." Shoto told him, showing him the building inside the gates. "But we're not going there. Mr. Yamada is over in the 1-C dorms right now, talking to Shinsou, another friend of mine through Midoriya, I guess. We're gonna go bother him and ask if you can train."

Shoto led Touya along after him into the 1-C dorms and was instantly greeted with exclamations of a new student from about half the populous. Touya was happy he still had a mask on his wrist because he heard someone coughing. He quickly put it on his face as he hid behind Shoto.

"No, this is my brother. Where's Present Mic? Still in Shinsou's room or down here?" Shoto asked the tall one with the big chin.

"Mr. Yamada is up in that weirdo's room. Is your brother even allowed on campus?"

Shoto brushed past him, taking Touya's wrist in hand and pulling him along to stay closeby so he wouldn't get bothered by the Gen Ed students who had bombarded them at the door. Touya got led up to the fifth floor and the fourth room on the boy's side before Shoto knocked on the door.

"S'up, little listeners?" Present Mic asked as he opened the door to reveal who Touya was assuming was Shinsou sitting on the bed looking rather tired.

"Is this a bad time?" Shoto asked.

"Not at all, me and Shinsou here were just talking about something but we were just finishing up since Shinsou needs to get his sleep in." Mr. Yamada told them. He was loud and energetic and bubbly, Touya was reminded of Fuyumi.

"Mr. Aizawa said we'd need someone to watch over Touya if he were to train his quirk. and Mr. Aizawa feel asleep in the 1-A commons. I'm sure that Sero's put whipped cream in his hand by now. But Touya needs a teacher to watch him and you're the only one who I knew where you were." Shoto told him.

"Alright, I'll be there just gimme a few minutes, little listeners!" Present Mic beamed and closed the door over. The pseudo-twins stood down the hall by the stairs and waited about ten minutes for Shinsou and him to finish up and hopefully Shinsou was falling or already asleep. He'd looked like he'd need it.

Shoto led Touya back through the students downstairs but this time, Mr. Yamada was leading them through. They began the twenty minute trek to Gym Gamma and they began there.

"Alright, kid, show us what you've got." The teacher told him and he unleashed a blizzard in the building they were in, icing the walls and floor with its intensity before he stopped it of his own will, something he'd never have achieved with his old fire. "That's a mighty strong blizzard you got there, kiddo." Yamada told him.

"Thanks." Touya mumbled.

"Do you have any special moves yet? Yamada asked.

"No, but I guess I could work on it?" And thus began trying for hours until he came up with a concentrated stream of snow flurries being like a firework, his snow acting as a smokescreen, and he learned how to create instant-made snowballs.

"You did great, little listener! I'm proud of you!" Yamada exclaimed.

"Thank you." He mumbled as Shoto and him went back to the dorms and Mr. Yamada

"Do you wanna take a shower, Touya?" Shoto asked.

"Sure."

"If you didn't pick up anything for yourself, I have some soaps in there. Most are for dry skin, but that's probably a plus with how much your fire used to give you burns. The whole towel closet is communal so you don't need to worry about grabbing the wrong one." Shoto told him as they got into the dorms.

"Yeah, thanks, Sho." Touya smiled.

"The twins are bonding!" Yaoyorozu looked pleased.

"Hi, Momo." Shoto greeted them.

"Hi, Momo." Touya parroted.

"Did you have fun training, Touya?" She asked.

"Yeah, I came up with a few things I can do besides just making a blizzard. It feels like this quirk was actually made for me." He proudly announced.

"That's great, Touya. I'm happy you're advancing quickly!" Momo bubbled with energy and smiles. Touya smiled back a bit, her energy was unmatchable, though.

"Hey there, Touya." Came Aizawa from the living room.

"Hi, Mr. Aizawa." He muttered.

"Us teachers had a meeting about the permanence of your deaging and Nezu has your adoption papers going through tonight on a UA direct order. All you need to do is sign them since you're technically a legal age and you'll legally be my son come tomorrow morning." Aizawa handed him a paper on a board.

"Okay." Touya read it over briefly before he signed on the line for his name to be.

"Congratulations, you're my son as of dawn tomorrow. Welcome to the family, we have more cats than humans." Aizawa told him, patting his head and Touya thought he'd get hit for a split second and jolted a the touch.

"Sorry." He muttered. "Didn't mean to react like that."

"You can't help engrained habits and I don't get offended by old habits. They die hard, I get it." Aizawa told him. "Alright, get a shower, you trained with Hizashi, I heard."

Flopping on his bed after his shower felt like heaven. Touya wasn't sure that wasn't what this was, actually. No Endeavor, no abuse, he had his brother, friends, a new parent even. He felt like he was home as he fell asleep in the cloud of a bed, cuddling a pillow close.

He heard but didn't react when Midoriya and Bakugou had their inevitable argument or Aizawa screaming at them to both shut up. He was actually kind of happy to have been deaged. Whatever life he had, he didn't care what it was, couldn't have been better than this new second chance at life.

The next morning was a weekend. Naturally, Aizawa invited Fuyumi and Natsuo over to speak on the matter of Touya's deaging. As soon as Natsuo walked into the meeting room and saw Touya, he was bawling and Fuyumi gasped and stood still. Shoto had to lead her in all the way to close the door.

"Touya, you're alive." Fuyumi whispered.

"Hi, guys." He awkwardly greeted them.

"As you can see we have some serious business to discuss. Please, sit." Aizawa told them. Both older siblings sat down in the chairs around the table.

"How is he alive!?" Natsuo asked loudly, causing the other three siblings to jump.

"Touya was found by Kirishima here the night before last." Aizawa gestured to Kirishima sitting next to him. "Touya has been permanently deaged five years for the last month. And his quirk was changed by the man Kirishima found harassing him outside a convenience store." Aizawa told them.

"He was on the streets two weeks and that man, Matsuda Ryuu, housed him for two weeks after." Aizawa told them. "Touya was temporarily enrolled into UA's hero course so I could keep an eye on him, however his enrollment will be come permanent if that's what he wants. I've legally adopted him since he's stated, at this age, your father threw him out onto the streets to begin with."

"Touya is staying in the 1-A dorms and I trust neither of you will have trouble not telling your father of this development until we figure out how to handle the situation of your father possibly trying to take custody back." Aizawa looked at Natsuo and Fuyumi expectantly.

"Of course not!" Fuyumi exclaimed.

"I don't speak to that piece of shit." Natsuo told him.

"I'll likely tell him once I establish full custody and fully move him into both my house and the dorms. Get him set up, establish communication lines to me and my partner, Hizashi." Aizawa told them.

"You'll keep him safe?" Was all Fuyumi asked.

"Of course. I'm his new parent and guardian, of course I'll keep him safe."

"Alright. Then, I don't see a problem." Natsuo told Aizawa and he looked over Shoto and Touya. "You know, I always thought you two looked like twins." Natsuo told them abruptly.

"Alright, if everyone's good with this, you two have full admission to the campus for the day so you can spend time with Touya and Shoto. Touya has yet to set up anything in his room, so hopefully you two can help him with that." Aizawa told them.

And, with that, the four siblings were off to the dorms and ended up in Touya's room, Natsuo laughing when he saw the clothing Touya had.

"You're still our emo brother, Touya, good to know." Natsuo smiled brightly.

"Yeah. Kirishima's friends took me out for that." Kirishima slung his arm around Touya's shoulders.

"Yeah, his style's a lot like Bakugou so a lot of that stuff is things we picked out for him." Kirishima told them. "This shirt is actually one Kaminari, our local pikachu, picked out for him. Speaking of, I should probably stop him from trying to get his toast out with a fork for the fifth time this week." Touya let them look at the black shirt with chains he was wearing as Kirishima saw himself out.

"I'm glad to see you never changed." Fuyumi beamed.

"I never aged, guys, of course I didn't change. I'm an angsty teenager in the prime of my quarter-life crisis." Touya reminded them.

"You know what I mean." Fuyumi smiled brightly as she hugged him close, she was sniffling? Was she crying? Touya tried to look up but his head was buried in her neck in a way he could barely move it. "I missed you so much." She whispered.

"I mean, I missed you guys too, for the month I remember at least." Touya admitted.

"We thought you died, Touya." Natsuo joined Fuyumi. Shoto awkwardly hugged him as well.

"You three will make me cry and then Mina will be mad about my makeup getting messed up again." Touya let his siblings tackle him into a cuddle pile on the bed. He felt safe having people, his siblings no less, holding him so close.

Taglist: @lgbtforeverything @rin-tanaka @everythingisstardust

#mha #bnha #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #todoroki touya #todoroki shouto #yamada hizashi #momo yaoyorozu #aizawa shouta #todoroki fuyumi #todoroki natsuo #kirishima eijiro #snoweywrites #hair dye buddies au #tw abuse mention #tw death mention

13 notes · View notes

boogiewrites · 4 years ago

Text

Never Break the Chain Pt. 2

Part 2 of 5

Characters: Javier Peña x OFC

Summary: Javier and Esme's first time seeing each other in almost twenty years. A photograph leads to an obsessive hunt for the woman he thought was dead. They both find they got where they wanted. But is it what they want now?

Warnings/Tags: Tension. Big reunited kiss.

Click on my icon then go to my Mobile Masterlist in my bio for my other works and chapters. (Had to do this since Tumblr killed links, sorry.) Please like, comment and reblog if you enjoyed it! It helps out us writers A LOT!

Time passes, as it always has and always will. It stopped for no man, not even Javier. Seeing his first love fade into nothing had left him a different man. Walls came up, barriers were built that his enemies would even be impressed by. She’d done him a favor, snapping him out of the young man’s dream, but he felt he had nothing left but trying to help once she was gone. So he threw himself into his work.

Sure there were other women. He thought he loved some, but would always leave them. He always hurt them and that wasn’t his intention precisely but they would thank him years later. He was what they would refer to in close company as “a dodged bullet”. He’d been called far worse.

He despised his cliche reactions to his trauma sometimes. Drinking, smoking, being a general pain in the ass, renowned and proud asshole was easier. Burying yourself in prostitutes and let them take away the thoughts for a little while was the easiest. He would fantasize he could help them, even save some of them. He surely wasn’t getting his hero complex stroked when it came to his work. He had a soft spot for women, he had learned the hard way the shit deal they’d landed when they were born. He couldn’t do much...but he could try to help. So he did. Loss after loss he kept trying. This was that bit of good Esme had always believed in. He wasn’t sure how much longer he would have it so he made the best of it while he could.

The night before was nothing knew, an old habit at this point for him. He went out and got a woman, he’d pour every bit of good in him into her, convincing himself he still had it. He’d make them feel good, listen to them, things that were in short supply in their lives from men. He could be that good guy exception, if only for a short while. It felt nice to not be looked at with disgust or fear. The slivers of affection kept him going after dark. He’d leave them breathless, moans turning to laughs as they dressed, joking they might not make him pay. But they always took the money. And he offered it with no judgment, pulling his jeans on and halfway through a highball glass as his lean outstretched arm offer up their compensation for making him feel something good and push out the bad thoughts for a short while. He could be making worse decisions.

He rubs his temple, suppressing a groan as he slid his way into the uncomfortable chair at the beaten-up metal table. The chatter of his coworkers all making their way into the room was grating but nothing he couldn’t ignore. Morning debriefing, something he gave a shit about. Well, work was the one thing he gave a shit about right now, hyper-focused on the clock and trying to drown out the obsession off the clock. It was a dynamic that he was still trying to perfect. He downs the hot black coffee in his hand and nods at the secretary just outside the doorway, “Get me another, sugar. No sugar.” he winks and sends her off. She side-eyed him and went on her way, that was just Pena to her, horny but harmless. He cracks his back, a grunt before landing his elbows on the table to focus, the overblown commander coming in with a handful of photos, spreading them on the table as they talked about what they always did, the cartel.

Pena tries to approach everything individually, but there was only so much range these guys had, and not seeing them all as one giant collection of piss ants with assault rifles was something getting harder and harder to do. So as new and old names were said, he watched the board fill out, the line attaching known connections and new ones. There had been a new wave of intel, something Pena and his partner Murphy were used to being the ones doing, but he wouldn’t complain if someone else finally wanted to sack up and their fucking job like they were supposed to.

“So we have our old friends,” a slap of photos to the board. “Then there’s a new round of boys coming in.” he taps the newest addition to the board. “Seems we’re getting inbred with the other families, the jewel smugglers, the miners...seems we’re trying to venture out and expand our already impressive portfolio.” he snorts.

“They can never just be fucking satisfied with their millions.” someone groans and complains.

“It’s a good chance try to take them down too.” Murphy shrugs.

“Eyes on the prize, kiss ass,” Pena says quietly, accepting his coffee without a second glance. “Do we know these women?” he asks with a nod in the direction.

“Typical.” Murphy rolls his eyes.

“No. Our assumption is prostitutes. Nothing new there.” the commander goes on, but he quickly becomes background noise as Pena stands and moves toward the board. He stood, hips jutted forward, eyes scanning, hand over his mouth in thought. Once he saw the new pictures he hadn’t heard another word the men had said. “PENA!” barked his way grabs his attention as he casually shifts his attention.

“Mmmph. Yeah.” he mutters, eyes moving back to the board.

“I was informing you, you’d be doing street intel on these newcomers.”

“Yeah,” he says disinterested, thumbing his lip before placing his hands on his hips. “Do we have these photos in color?”

The question catches the room off guard. “Why?” he’s met with annoyed opposition.

“This woman…” he taps the photo of a woman with a sly smile on the arm of a very powerful man. Dark waves teased and a heart-shaped face buried in a fur coat collar worth more than he made in a year. He clears his throat. “I’ve seen her before…”

“They’re whores Javi, of course, you have.” Murphy leads the room in a wave of amused hums and chuckles.

“No I’m serious,” he says with no inflection, catching his partner’s attention. “Do we have a location on them if there’s no color?”

“Why’s color important?”

He’s quiet for a moment, jaw tense and eyes blinking, baffled at what he was allowing himself to think. “Her eyes… were green.” MUrphy readjusts himself in his seat, watching Pena’s eyes carefully. He could swear they looked sad.

“What information we’ve got is here.” the commander points at the table with its thick manilla envelopes.

Javier nods with no spoken response, staying in place until the room is empty except for a hesitant Murphy who approaches him. “Who is she?” he asks quietly.

He shakes his head in response. “It can’t be her,” there’s a heavy pause, “But it...fuck it looks like her…” his voice trails off and Murphy is left with more questions.

“Well, are you gonna answer me or just write poetry about her Javi?”

“She’s…” he sighs and sucks his teeth. “She’s supposed to be dead.”

“Did you-?”

“No… no… nothing like that.” his voice still quiet. “I knew her… fuck...over a decade ago now.”

“So we can add hunting ghosts to our agenda now too. Great.” Murphy takes it lightly and presses his lips together. He stares at Javi, his eyes dark and focused. He was left with more questions than answers. His money was still on it being a hooker. It’s not as if Pena had even talked about Esme since the investigation when he was young. His partner may have his back in life or death situations, and they may have been close, but no one knew about her. Pena had hoped to keep it that way. He hoped he was wrong. He hoped it wasn’t her. Because if it was… well he didn’t know what he’d do.

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

Esme didn’t know it but with every minute that passed, she was being proven right about her belief in her first love, that if he knew she was alive, that he would find her.

Esme had ran, a bug out bag down the river and no trace left behind. She made her way south over the years, learning her craft and making friends in the right places. She’d started with rich men, especially rich white men trying to make a living off exploiting her fellow man in Mexico. It had been almost too easy. They thought nothing of her and wore her as if she were a watch; on their arm and shiny and proof of their wealth. She would gain access, gather intel and then sweep in and take the goods and ghost out.

Esme had been legally declared dead and was now living as Estelle. She had so many names over the years but her current incarnation was Estelle. And she was a star. She’d become what she wanted, she was rich and self-reliant. She needed no one and had her fun as she craved it. There were men and women and drugs and jewels and for so long it had been a pleasant hazy dream. But the novelty of it wore off, she grew bored, a witness to her hypocrisy, growing soft and lazy with her indulgence. When she emerged from her haze and saw the state of the world around her she knew things had changed. Narcos now ruled the world. The government bowed to them, the poor worshipped them. She saw they were the future, the new leaders. And for her, that meant that’s where she had to be.

She found herself once again sharp and full of adrenaline. Her new role took real savvy and cunning. Otherwise, she’d end up dead for real. She cozied up, working for Narcos to steal for them. It wasn’t hard in skill, but it was in the amount of sexist shit she had to deal with. She’d killed men for laying hands on her, and worse. She’d pulled knives and guns and made frown men piss themselves as she threatened them with words they’d never heard women utter up to that point. Most of the leaders would laugh until they cried after the fact, seeing a woman act in such away. She entertained them. They underestimated her, saw her as some novelty pet that fetched things and entertained them. She could handle that. As long as she got paid.

Following the groups, making her way around it made sense she found herself in Columbia. She knew it was dangerous, but she was addicted to it. It filled the void of sex and drugs for her for the most part, although she did partake among her peers from time to time. She thought it made her admirable, independent, and a shining example of what a woman could be if she had the nerve to do it. She was, to a degree, but she was also wrong. She lacked the softness in her life anyone, not just a woman needed. A void where no love or trust or intimacy was in her life she filled with material things and lists of her accomplishments. if she kept busy and looking ahead she wouldn’t be still king enough to face her demons.

Except she was about to come face to face with her biggest one.

—

As was his way, Javier had become a bit obsessed. He had to know if this woman was Esme. He’d been tracking her and was able to have DEA level observation to do it. It was a personal mission he’d been able to spin to look like a cartel one. There was a connection, she was seen with them, but little was known outside of that. After he’d put the word out for the beautiful woman with green eyes it hadn't taken long before someone scorned by her leaked information on her next job. The informant knew what his boss wanted to be stolen and when she’d be there. Normally no agent or cop would care to pay attention to her, or some jewels being stolen, she was just some woman to them. But serendipitous timing made sure she became THE woman for one of them.

She practically waltzed into the store. She scaled a fence, a wall and came through a window but for her, that was practically begging her to steal from them. The rooms were dark, silent except for the sounds of her feet as she made her way into the back, unseen and unbothered. It wasn’t until she’d stopped to admire her score before snatching it they the clicking of a gun behind her caught her attention.

He’d waited in the shadows, and none too patiently. With the aim set to intimidate, not kill, he Easter no more time. “Who are you?” It came out as an order.

Her head snapped up, back still to the faceless voice she felt was all too familiar. She blinks, the former goal now removed and replaced with a flood of emotion. She remains silent, her turn to be shocked like he was when he saw her face in the photos.

“Turn around.” Another order. The voice was deeper, darker now but still made her feel the same way.

She turns, and painfully slow. She doesn’t meet his intense gaze immediately, reading his body language first and calming her racing mind. There’s no way it was him.

There’s no way it’s her, his mind reassures him. But as soon as her eyes raise to meet his his stomach drops. He was right.

“Javi?” It was almost a whisper, for the first time in she couldn’t remember when she didn’t hide her emotions in her face.

The gun falls first, his sense falling to the wayside as it slipped into its place in the back waist of his jeans. His frame was broader, still lean moves towards her with an earned confidence now. He doesn’t speak, staring at her as if she might not be real. She gives him his time. He’d earned it. “It really is you.” It was his turn to let the veil fall, dark eyes shining in the low, cool light.

She nods. “Javi I can explain.” She begins, prepared to apologize and ask forgiveness before asking him why the hell he was there at all. They were a long way from home.

“You’re alive.” A rather obvious statement that made her smile. It was all he could handle.

“I can explai-“ a quick burst of words before they’re cut off by his mouth landing against hers. She hadn’t expected this. She was prepared for many things last but not this, at least not for him to be kissing her. “Javi my-“ she tries to get out but his hands are already on her cheeks, hot and damp and certain. She lets her concern fade for a moment, it would all be fine. She gives in to it, lets him take the lead, and pull her against him roughly. The anger and hurt coming through in his grip on her back and face as they kissed breathlessly. He stole her focus without trying, there was the signature huff from his nose, the nuzzle into her between separating to catch his breath but he felt different. But so did she.

Where they once held differences in certainty they now held the opposite. He kissed her like he just found out his first love was alive after decades of vices to cover the loss. Because he had. Every woman and experience he’d had between her and now, every skill and thus gained confidence was clear and apparent. This was not a boy handling a girl. He was a man handling his woman.

And there she was, blindsided and touch starved, passion and intimacy starved being devoured by the only man she’d ever truly loved. The only man she’d ever let in and see her for what she was. The only man that knew Esmeralda. It was a raw and painful ache that emanated from her chest as she clutched her hand around his wrist and the other gripped his shirt in her hand. She gave in because she knew it wouldn’t last long, and after it was over she’d miss it.

With eyes squeezed shut, his forehead pressed to hers, his statuesque nose gently rubbing against hers he exhales hot against her face. “Esme…” he pulls back and holds her face, demanding her focus.

“It’s been so very long since someone’s called me that.” she sighs and puts her hands on his forearms.

“Since I called you that?”

She nods and smiles, face pressed into his hand.

“Maybe it’s about time people called you that again.” he pauses and looks her over with a hard brow, he couldn't hide his simmering anger underneath the confusion, relief, and affection. “Where the fuck have you been?” She sighs in response. “Why the hell are you HERE?”

“Same as you. Work.”

“Why are you with those men? Don’t you know who they are? What they do?”

“Why do you ask questions you already know the answer to?”

“Why Esme?” his eyes water and his hands squeeze her face a bit too tightly before a wave of dizziness hit him.

“Same reason now as then,” she whispers, his grip loosening and not hearing her response, she slicks his dark hair back as his eyes start to roll around in their sockets. “You're fine, Javi. Seems you fell for my defense mechanism.” she smiles and he looks at her, starting to slump. “To be fair I didn’t know to expect you. You’ll wake up soon enough. It’s only temporary.” she wipes the culprit of the sudden wave of forced unconsciousness he was going through, her lipstick off his mouth. He was out quickly, and she spent some long moments exploring the now aged face of her once wide-eyed companion. “You are even more handsome than I thought you’d be.” she coos and kisses him after dragging him into a chair and pushing it into a corner so he wouldn’t fall. “It now inevitable we’ll meet again. My old hound dog.” She chuckles, a kiss to take in the scent of his hair before she parted ways. “See you later, mi amor.”

-----------

Peña awoke to a boot knocking against his knee and an odd headache. It was pitch black outside by now, people on the streets outside none the wiser to the life-altering experience he’d just had.

“Are we blacking out in stores now?” Murphy snarks and shakes his head, leaning against a door frame.

“That’s not...I’m not…” Javier shakes his head, rubbing and tapping at the pulse in his skull.

“Then what the hell is it?” He can hear the judgment in his partner's voice.

“If I told you you would think I was crazy.” he groans and sits up with his back straight in the chair, one cocked brow looking over to the man staring him down.

“And I don’t now?”

Peña huffs out a laugh. That was a fair assessment. He’d think the same thing. He looked across the room, the glass case he’d found her standing in front of now empty. “She took the jewels.” he switches the subject, an arm raised lazily and collapsing against his lap after.

“Were they made of cocaine? Why do we give a shit?”

“It’s not the jewels that are important. It’s the woman that did it.”

“A woman? Huh. That’s something you don’t see every day. That is… a little bit crazy I guess.”

“That’s not what’s crazy.”

“Am I gonna have to fuckin’ waterboard you man, just tell me.” he groans.

“That woman I told you about... that stole those... she's been declared legally dead for almost twenty years.” he finally says with a defensive tone and a face that said don’t fucking try me to the man still assessing his sanity with no attempt at hiding his negative prognosis.

“Oh.” Murphy contemplates looking away to the empty case. “That... yeah okay that is crazy.”

@jaegeeeeer @likedovesinthewnd @inkededucatednnerdy @biharryjames @ladamari68 @past-romantic @weliketomoveit

#javier pena #Javier Pena Fanfic #javier pena fic #javier pena fan fic #javier pena x reader

24 notes · View notes

themidnightfarmer · 4 years ago

Text

Babes in Mimeland || Nora & Jared

Timing: This past week sometime.

Location: The common.

Tagging: @fearfordinner

Description:

Triggers: Mimes?

Jared wasn’t completely comfortable to be away from the farm that day, but he’d given his word, and he wasn’t going to go back on it. Surely everything would be fine for an hour or two while he did this. So there he stood, in a t-shirt that implored passing customers to support the performers behind him. He was holding flyers and smiling as wide as he could whilst flagging down passers-by to take them. A mime he’d started to consider a friend had mimed that he should come and help them out that day, the mime in question part of an air-band as a side hustle for working at Yours, mime, and ours (where Jared was a frequent customer). “Don’t forget to support your local mime performers! They’re good at what they do and they have mouths to feed at home whilst working on their passions!”

A music box was an odd reward Nora decided twisting the box around in her hands. The eyeball, a necklace that she’d taken to wearing frequently, was a much more satisfactory prize. Nora was about to flip open the prize she’d come to winterfest to claim when her eye was caught by the mime band. Oh great! They were performing. Music box forgotten and shoved into her pocket, Nora trudged through the crowd to admire the artists at work. There were no hard feelings on her part that her last encounter with a mime had left her rainbow colored for a week. There were hard feelings to deal with on her part with the idea that her favorite mime had died right in front of her. Ideas that she refused to acknowledge. A shout about helping mimes made her ears perk up. Nora snatched a flyer from a giant, glancing over it. “I want to help.” She announced. “The mimes are great.”

Most people passing Jared by were trying their very best to ignore him, he watched many fliers find their way into the trash. It was a little disheartening but overall expected, you didn’t have shirts like the one he was wearing unless there was some serious stigma going on. His head tilted down and a more genuine smile bloomed on his face as someone actively approached to take a flier. “They are! One of my friends is in the band, they’re honestly great at what they do and everything helps, people in town aren’t so forgiving for being different…” he trailed off before he could add just how strange he found that considering the variety of species that you could find in all corners. Jared blinked away the thought and returned to focus on the person showing interest. “So-” He was cut off by an obnoxious laugh off to the left towards the gingerbread house. He couldn’t quite hear what was said but the way the group of people mock mimed along with the band rubbed him the wrong way. His face soured.

Friends? With a mime? Was that legal? Wouldn’t that be like being friends with mythical legends who are way cooler than you? Like the real babadook or maybe the boogyman? Even goatman. They were all famous figures Nora admired but wouldn’t know how to befriend if they were before her. It was a sudden moment of awe as her blank gaze passed between the giant and the band. If she helped could she be friends too? Nora dug in her pocket and pulled out her beaten up old wallet. She was ready to pay a large sum of money before laughter met her ears and she could see a group of adults, probably in their late to mid thirties, making fun of the mimes. A different way to help crossed her mind as she watched them enter the gingerbread house. “What if we scared them?” Nora asked, her monotone making it sound like a serious and reasonable suggestion. “Make a point that people can’t keep mocking mimes because they are quiet.”

He’d forgotten what he’d planned on saying next to the other when she piped up with an idea. Jared looked after the group as they laughed and joked at the expense of his mime friends before heading into the gingerbread house. He nodded slowly before deciding it was a perfect idea, no amount of money fixed hurt feelings, but a little bit of revenge might. “Yeah, yeah that’s a good idea. People are always doing stuff like that.” Jared frowned and tucked the fliers into his back pocket, ready to so what it took to have those meanies regret their choices. “Let’s do it.” he said only pausing a split second before moving towards the gingerbread house (that had already closed its door on the group, trapping them) to ask “What’s your name anyway? Since you’re leading the charge, what’s the name of the commander? I’m Jared.” he offered preemptively.

Commander? Nora liked being called a commander. She could see it now, a field of dead bodies around her as she stood tall, proud on a rock, wearing a military jacket. There’d be some life in the people somewhere, and they would be full of fear. Life changing fear. The kind of fear that made for a meal instead of just a snack. She’d paint that picture later. “Nora.” Nora answered, her affect betraying nothing of the mental spiral she’d just followed. “Are you good at scaring people?” Nora hadn’t noticed the door close behind the other group. She pushed through the crowd and to the door, pushing it open and holding it for the giant - er - Jared. She wondered if he’d hit his head on the door frame. This Jared, friend of mime, was about to see things. She hoped he’d enjoy them as a fellow lover of mimes.

“I’m not sure, Usually it’s by accident, but I could try and make something work.” He wondered briefly if he could get away with using his glamour to help spook the group, without his partner in crime noticing. It would be far easier to do some scarring in the name of the mimes if he could make himself look like he had stripes like some sort of angry chameleon. Jared ducked in the door that was held open for him, and it pulled shut behind him. The inside was dark, the windows were as they tended to be on small gingerbread house kits that you could buy at the store, the windows were painted on in icing rather than cut out. It was pitch black aside from the gaps around the edges where the icing hadn’t fully sealed the walls in place. The group were in the next room of the house whispering now that it was dark as humans tended to do, as if the dark was suppressing any noise. Using the quiet he mimicked one of his kids' cries as loud as he could just to start them off. The angry call of a bies sounded from his lungs abruptly and clearly for a singular second before cutting off to return to silence again.

The noise that came out of the giant’s mouth was absolutely brilliant. Loud. Jarring. Inhuman. No animal Nora could recognize. She gave one slight nod of approval. Maybe this stork, now nicknamed for being a giant bird and not just a giant, accidentally scared people more often than naught. Reaching inside herself, Nora lit the string of her magic. Her fingertip traced across the gingerbread walls as she walked. Icing started to coat her finger but she ignored it. Instead she concentrated on making the screeching noise of steel on steel. She’d seen it cause the hairs on people’s neck to rise. She hoped her cover of dragging her finger would be enough to fool new friend Jared. She’d claim it was a party trick or something. Damn, she really hated frosting.

Jared extended his glamour past his usual skin cover to also alter his clothes just that little bit, the mime shirt was a little too telling after all. Instead he added stripes subtly in the darkness, only really put in place for his own peace of mind rather than for any impact. He hoped it was too dark for anyone to notice, so that he didn’t have to explain to Nora either. The noise she was making sent a chill up his spine as well for a half a second before he settled into it, it was easier knowing where it was coming from...sort of. He had no idea how she was doing it, but he was certain it was Nora doing it at the very least, no other way a gingerbread house could make that noise. The group were muttering to each other, clearly unsettled as they headed into the next room trying to find the backdoor to escape. Jared spotted a runner rug down the hallway, so he stooped to tug on it and send the last straggling person flying into the rest, holding back a snicker as they toppled like bowling pins.

Was the stork looking a little stripy or was it the shadows of the gingerbread house? It wasn’t very well lit. Probably because it was made out of ginger and not wood. Nora found herself wishing she bore the strips of those they came to protect. An illusion manifested itself across small patches of her clothes; black and white alliance patches. The group they’d followed in were becoming less of a snack and more of a meal. Nora took a deep inhalation in, enjoying the rewards of Jared’s carpet tug. They piled to the ground obviously scared of what was going to happen. “Where’s the exit?” One shouted. “I-I don’t know, I don’t see any. How can this place be this big?” Panic made their voice high pitched and frantic as they shouted over Nora’s noise. She let the noise fall, leaving them and their prey in a sudden silence. “Boo.” Her monotone was briefly followed by an illusion monster appearing behind them. Black and white stripes mime meets masked monster with a giant maw and sharp rows of teeth. It gurgled towards the fallen group. Slowly. Leaving a trail of stripes behind it as it went.

Jared was unaware that it was Nora that had created the mime monster, he himself had seen the mimes do some incredible stuff so he wasn’t put off at all. It was a mask of only a slight surprise, thinking that they might have stopped performing to aid in this situation for themselves. This is why when a striped goo seemed to seep in the cracks of the gingerbread house (to form into another more ‘traditional’ looking mime on the ceiling) he didn’t even flinch. This mime turned it’s head like it was an owl to look down at the monster curiously for a split second before scuttling down the wall towards the now scrambling pile of humans. Jared flattened himself against the wall of the gingerbread house and increased his glamor in the moment to look more like the mime that had appeared on the ceiling, although not able to move his head like it had. He didn’t have quite the same energy, but he tried his best. The group screamed and swore and scrambled past Nora and Jared being chased by both Nora's creation as well as the mime who had come to see what was happening, only to be delighted with its findings.

This scene was beautiful. Perfect. Picturesque. The gaggle of bullies trying to run away. The mime manifesting. The illusion chasing, gurgling, gnashing its giant teeth. Nora was almost satisfied with the scene and the meal but it was missing something. A soundtrack maybe? Oh. She had the music box. Maybe that would add some ambiance to the whole shindig. It took a minute to windup the old box. It popped open displaying a couple wrapped in each other's arms dancing an eternal waltz. The music began, gentle, haunting, almost mournfully and her eyes fixated on the waltzing couple. She was met with an absolute need to waltz. Carefully she placed down the music box and held her hand out to Jared’s, the silent question to dance. A question that only had one answer as everyone around them started waltzing together. The gaggle were screaming in terror now, practically drowning out the beautiful music. “Why are we dancing?” Why can’t we stop dancing?” “Why am I dancing with a mime?”

The screaming had drowned out the ticking of the small music box winding up, so when the tune started Jared almost didn’t notice his body was moving towards music. Taking Nora’s hand they began to dance through no action of free will. The screaming did not die down, it seems the music was taking their movement alone, their voices would remain their own. Spinning around the room he was sort of delighted to have noticed that one of the group of humans had paired with a mime, who had turned its head all the way around again to watch the scene unfold in full rather than focus on it’s partner. “What kind of music box is that?” Jared asked Nora, his voice only faltering when her platform boots came down on his toes, yelling over the screams and panic of the humans with as wide a smile on his face as he could muster. Acting as is if the extra noise was only part of the song. He suspected magic, but he didn’t want to outright ask.

“I do-” Nora had never been good at dancing, and despite the dance being magically pre-choreographed for them, that didn’t go away. “Oh sorry.” She mumbled. “I don’t know anything about the box.” Nora nodded at the mime as they twirled past the beautiful friend. “It was the reward I got for getting second place.” First place shouldn’t have won. Her art was masterful. Oh well. Beggars couldn’t be winners. But apparently second place could be dancers. “I wonder how long it lasts.”

The screams and music could be heard by passing townsfolk for a while and they all ignored it, as was usual in white crest.

#P: Chatzy #C: Nora #fearfordinner

10 notes · View notes

saiilorstars · 4 years ago

Text

Sweet Ambitions

Ch.1: Anais

Story Masterlist // Masterlist of other OCs

Fandom: Supergirl // Pairing: Winn Schott x OFC

Summary: Spending her entire life cooped up in secret, Anais relishes in her new freedom. It's only later that she learns it's not easy living as a human when she also wants to be Solar with Supergirl. She has good-hearted ambitions but that's not the case for those around her. Not everyone is Kara Danvers, or Winn Schott. "Friends" lurk by with double intentions and to top it off, CADMUS rears its ugly head to make Anais wonder what side is she really on: human or alien?

Taglist: @ocfairygodmother @anotherunreadblog @maaaaarveeeeel @stareyedplanet @perfectlystiles

[If you’d like to be added to this specific OC’s stories/edits, send me a message!]

A young woman snapped a picture of the sky just as a couple of humming birds flew by. The angle was perfect! She lowered her professional camera, revealing sparkly green eyes. She was dazzled as she saw her picture on the camera screen. "Dad, I got another one!" she called for her father but noticed he'd gone inside the house. "Mom?" she then called but no one answered.

"What do you mean she's been infected?" the young woman began to hear voices from the inside. Super hearing allowed for some interesting eavesdropping sometimes, and when her adoptive parents were secret government scientists, the information was even juicier.

"We're not sure but she might have been affected," went the voice of a man she immediately recognized. It was for that reason that the woman put her full attention to the conversation. "Supergirl's civilian form is usually a kind woman and now she's acting far colder than ever before. We tracked her initial behaviors back to a fight she had. We need your expertise on Kryptonian weaknesses."

The woman's eyes widened in alarm at the important name. Supergirl? She was affected with what? The blonde let her camera hang around her chest and walked into the backdoor of her home.

"I assume you still hold the records from Superman?"

"Well of course we do. What kind of employees would we be if we didn't retain our subjects' records?"

The woman stepped into the cool kitchen and followed the voices of her parents and the man into the living room. "What's going on?" she didn't hesitate to come into the conversation despite her parents' constant reminders she was a subject the DEO was wary about no matter how long it'd been since they'd first found her.

A dark-skinned man immediately laid eyes on her. They were rather cold for the first couple of seconds, something the blonde didn't quite like but was ultimately used to. It was the first impression many employees got from him. "Hello, Hank," she said cautiously. "It's been long since you've visited." She cracked a tiny bit of a smile, and how could she not? He was the man responsible for her rescue when she was a young girl who'd lost her mother.

The man gave a nod, somewhat smiling now. "It is nice to see you again, Anais. How are you?"

Anais glanced at her parents to see their typical uneasiness whenever the DEO was around. It seemed like no matter how many years passed by, the DEO would never be fully welcomed in their home. "I'm...okay. I heard about Supergirl, what's happened to her?" No one answered her. Typical. She sighed, letting her long straight blonde hair swish each time her head turned. "Seriously? I follow Supergirl's actions — I even have collages about her — so I really want to know if she's in trouble—"

"So you can help out," her father finished, settling a hard look on her. "We know how the story ends, Anais. And you know we can't allow you to go anywhere near the DEO and much less Supergirl."

"Supergirl wouldn't act so cold with me like the DEO has," Anais threw that back to Hank Henshaw. "The Department of Extra-Normal Operations should've welcomed the first benign alien just like they did with Supergirl. Did I have to be Kryptonian for that or what?"

"You being a Solista had nothing to do with our case on you, Anais. You are a peculiar case—"

Anais rolled her eyes. She heard the story far too many times already. "Yeah, yeah, what makes me different and a threat is why you keep me away. I thank you for what you did for me when I was a little girl and you know—" she glanced at her parents with all the love in the world, "—how grateful I am to you for taking me in but now I want to know about Supergirl. And good luck getting rid of me. I have the speed and the strength to outmatch you." Her straight white teeth were a pretty sight despite her sour warning of her presence.

Anais Allen(-Mjorlkand) did not play when it came to aliens, even if she was only half of one.

Bearing that in mind, while also counting for precious time, Hank decided to let the woman listen in. He knew she was virtually harmless, despite the weariness of the government. She'd only been five years old when he found her and her dead alien mother. Her now-adoptive parents fought tooth and nail to take her in and prevent her from being a full blown lab rat for the U.S. government. As far as he knew, and he did, Anais was a model citizen.

When Anais learned that Supergirl may have been affected with something they still didn't know much about, she was all for helping. Like before, it didn't quite matter how many times everyone said no.

"Supergirl can be in trouble and I may be the only other non-evil alien that has the strength to keep up with her!" she trailed after her parents and Hank towards the front door. "Not to mention more speed! I am a dedicated speedster, remember!?"

"Anais, the DEO may not be ready for you—" Mrs. Allen began but Anais shook her head to stop her.

"But I can be trained! C'mon! Just...just let me visit at least? I'll be under constant supervision! You can even tag me if you want—"

"That wouldn't be necessary," Hank cut her off, rather put off by the suggestion.

Anais set her hands on her hips. "Then let me come, please." It was clear as day her parents weren't on board with the idea. Despite being adopted and partially alien, they came to love the girl as their own child.

However, the situation was tough and no one knew that more than Hank. His dark eyes flickered from the hopeful woman to her parents. He hated making the tough calls. "You would need to be monitored—"

Everyone winced when Anais squealed in delight.

"Hank, she can't—"

Hank raised a hand to stop Anais' father. "Unfortunately, she is well over the legal age—"

"23 years!" Anais was quick to remind, even waving a hand above her head. Her parents shot her the clear look to be quiet.

"Wouldn't this go against the rules, though?" Mrs. Allen wondered, continuously glancing at her daughter with fear. "It was clear we had to keep Anais under constant supervision and away from society until we were sure…"

"That I wasn't gonna accidentally blow people up, yes I know," Anais rolled her eyes. "Which I haven't, okay? Except for that one time I accidentally blew up the garden shed."

"And?" Mr. Allen threw a mock-glare.

She sighed and added in a much quieter voice, "...and the garage." She straightened herself up and put on her more serious face possible. "But I'm 23 now. I've practiced enough times to know what I'm doing. Just give me the chance to actually help."

Her hopefulness was answered again with a conditional yes from both parties. She would be under the direction supervision of Hank and any other trusted employees he would need. Anais didn't care. All she knew was that she would finally meet Supergirl and possibly even National City if she had free time.

Oh yes, she would definitely be taking her camera!

~0~

The DEO was bustling with the newest Fort Rozz escapee and with little to no help from Supergirl herself. Her lack of presence, however, was not a complete damper on Anais' mood.

"Oh my god I know this place is meant to hate me but it is so cool!" Anais' laughter echoed in the main room, attracting the attention of most employees, among them Alex Danvers.

"Uh...who is she?" the woman came to stop Anais from touching a desk.

"Ow," Anais pouted and rubbed the back of her hand where Alex had smacked her.

"Anais Allen. She is a special DEO interest who may be able to help us with Supergirl," Hank cleared his throat, warning Anais with a glance not to disclose more about herself. Alex looked Anais over with reasonable suspicion. At a time like this Hank decided to bring in some stranger to help with her sister? "Her parents are working on a possible explanation to Supergirl's condition," Hank went on, hoping to get eyes off Anais.

"Her parents being…?" Alex expected to know the answer but Hank left it briefly with "special DEO scientists" and moved on once again.

Anais still flashed the older woman a smile though Alex didn't return it. Anais tried not to look so disappointed - she could feel Alex's concern for...Supergirl? Anais tilted her head as she tried to make sense of the feelings she could actually feel. Because yes, at times, she could be an empathic. She could literally feel other people's feelings, whether they were good or bad. It was a power she was still developing.

But Alex's concern for Supergirl went far beyond that of co-workers, though not couple feelings. It was that same love Anais felt from her adoptive mother: family. With that in mind, Anais paid extra close attention to Alex's behavior while Hank and the other DEO employees brought up the Fort Rozz escapee.

"Two armored vehicles have been attacked in the last six hours. Both carrying hundreds of thousands worth in gold," Hank was describing the situation. "Now, these two have goons managed to take out a number of highly trained and heavily armed security personnel."

"Alien weapons?" asked Alex.

"Almost. An alien is their weapon," Hank had one of the employees pull up a profile picture of a rather sizable man with—was that an eyepatch?

Why must villains insist on being ridiculous? Anais could never figure that out. Her father always loved watching those silly human movies with awful costumes and representation of aliens.

"A K'hund. Stronger than your average Fort Rozz escapee," Hank warned the crowd. "Now, we've obtained intel on their next heist, but we have to move fast. Lucky for us, we have an alien of our own."

"Yeah, that would be me," said another woman, a new woman that Anais immediately recognized as Supergirl. With a gasp, Anais turned around and saw Supergirl herself standing behind the crowd. She was looking rather bored by the ensemble of employees.

"You're late," Hank pointed out, not that Supergirl seemed to care for her tardiness.

Anais opened her mouth to make herself known but she began to get the same feelings from the other alien...and they were rather...mixed.

"I had other things to do," Supergirl said sourly. "You know I do have a life, right?"

Alex's eyes widened at such an imprudent - and certainly not like Supergirl - thing to say. "Supergirl…"

The alien in question raised a hand to stop Alex from whatever she was going to say. "When can I kick alien ass?"

Hank was just going to skip over her language for the time being. It was just more footage to collect and hopefully discover Supergirl's irrational behavior. "Let's move!" he gave the order to the rest of the employees.

As the employees began to spread out, Anais latched a hand to the nearest one she could. It was Alex.

The brunette woman gave Anais a clear look that said 'hands off'. Anais pulled her hand off Alex's arm and pointed in the direction Supergirl went off in. "She's your sister." The phrase made Alex freeze with shock. This only allowed Anais to continue on with what she wanted to say. "I felt that off her hostility towards you. It's not like the one she has against Hank! But to be fair, all her feelings are rather mixed up—"

"Okay, what are you talking about?" Alex grabbed Anais and led her towards the side.

Anais blinked, realizing that just like everything of the DEO was new to her, it was new to Alex too. "Oh, that's right, I'm sorry. I'm—" she gestured to herself, "—a low-level empathic." Alex's blank stare made Anais smile widely out of embarrassment. "It basically means I can feel other people's feelings on occasion. It's really low so the feelings have to be extremely strong for me to catch on sometimes. For example, when Supergirl came in you got this whole concern that...while reasonable, didn't exactly fit within the role of employees."

Alex pinched the bridge of her nose. Things were getting ridiculous now. "So you could...you think Supergirl is my sister?" she dropped her hand. "Did you forget the part where I'm a human and she's an alien?"

"I know the concept of adoption, Alex," Anais said all too calmly, furthering irritating Alex. "I was adopted by humans too. And if I ever did get a human sibling — even adopted — I would love them too."

Alex's mouth opened several times before she actually talked. "Whatever the hell you are—"

"A Solista," Anais was all too happy to name her species for anyone.

"Not the point," Alex gritted her teeth, making Anais' smile vanish to get serious. "Just….just tell me you can help her? Supergirl?"

"Your sister?"

"Fine, yes - can you help her?"

"Well, I'm not a science genius but my parents are. They studied all of Superman's records and they even got to perform some exams themselves. They've got the brains and I've got the bronze," Anais flexed an arm as a joke but Alex was in no mood for such. With a sigh, Anais got serious again. "I'm half human, okay? But physically I can keep up with Supergirl. And I will try my best to help wherever I can."

That was all Alex needed to know. "You should wear a mask or something before you leave…"

~ 0 ~

Against Hank's better judgement, Anais was allowed to accompany the DEO taskforce to get the Fort Rozz escapee. The condition was the mask - first of all - and to have her monitored from the DEO all in the meanwhile.

"Stop touching it," Alex scolded Anais the third time the blonde started fiddling with the strap around Anais' arm.

"You guys seriously couldn't have gotten me a smaller thing to monitor me with?" was all Anais could say about it.

"We're trying to get funding. And it we were a bit out of time," Alex leaned back against the wall of the van. They were on their way to Supergirl's location, hoping to just get out and catch the escapee when Supergirl was done.

"I told you I didn't even need to be here," Anais gestured to the back of the van with a roll of her eyes.

"And Hank said you had to be under my supervision," Alex reminded with a touch of a smirk.

Anais didn't have the chance to come up with a good comeback for that repeated statement due to the van making a big swerve. She screeched when Alex practically jumped over her to get out the backdoor.

"Where did he go!?" she soon heard Alex's confused voice. "Are you hurt?"

"No, I'm fine. He got away."

Anais sped out of the van and came to a skidded stop beside Alex, startling both Alex and Supergirl. "Hi, big fan!" Anais wiggled her fingers at Supergirl then looked at the dumbfounded Alex. "Right, I'm a speedster too."

Supergirl's eyebrows shot up at the presence of the knew alien in town. "Do I have to kick her ass too?"

Anais' smile faded.

~ 0 ~

"Is this really necessary?" Anais asked the female scientist reading off from a handheld tablet about Anais' tests results collected from her short moment in the field. "Because my parents have run these a thousand times. I swear."

The scientist said nothing. She merely came back to unwrap the monitor around Anais' arm.

Anais rolled her eyes and looked around for anyone she knew, and by that she just meant Alex or Hank. It was clear Supergirl was not in her right mind at the moment. Just my luck. She focused more when she started hearing voices of Supergirl, Hank and Alex not too far from the room. She shouldn't but oooooh her superhearing really wanted to make action.

"...how 'bout you get off my back for once, Hank?"

"Supergirl…"

"I thought we were in a good place here."

"We're in a good place, when I do what I'm told. When I don't, you come down on me. I am tired of it! You want to catch the K'hund, go try it yourself! You're just as strong as me, if you wanted to be!"

"You know how dangerous that is for him!"

Anais made sure not to make any faces that would giveaway what she was doing. What did Supergirl mean by that? Hank couldn't possibly be as strong as Supergirl…

"And it's not dangerous for me too? Every Kryptonian on this planet wants to kill me expect my cousin. I have to live with that! What are you so afraid of? You talk about honoring your people, and yet you refuse to be one of them!"

"Supergirl!"

When Supergirl finally did leave, there was a trail of awkwardness left in the building. Anais did her best not to show any indication she'd heard any of that. After being released from examinations, she was turned over to none other than her parents.

"I thought the deal was I would help if I could," Anais glumly said after catching sight of her parents.

"Oh you still are," Alex remained in the building despite it being rather late. "After what my sister—er…" Anais smirked. "Fine, whatever. She needs help. And I'm gonna take it from whoever gives it. Your parents are keys."

"Dorks. They're dorks," Anais didn't hesitate to correct. The two women walked into the room Hank had brought the two scientists into.

"Annie!" Mr. Allen immediately went over and hugged her. "You're okay?"

"I'm embarrassed but sure…" the blonde hugged back nonetheless. By this point in her life, she was more than used to her parents' over-coddling.

"We feel we have a lead but we need to talk to the person who owned the building in the first place," Mrs. Allen remarked after hugging her daughter as well. She was worried sick as well but knew how Anais got in front of people when they happened to express too much love.

"And who would that be?" asked Hank.

"A Mr. Maxwell Lord."

It became clear to the three visitors that this name was not unknown for the DEO workers.

"Alex looks like she wants to punch this guy…" Anais couldn't refrain from commenting. This time, Alex didn't disagree.

"I hate him. And now we're gonna get him," Alex looked specifically at Hank for this one. Maxwell Lord had been one problem after the next and she was drawing the line at infecting her sister.

"That'll have to be tomorrow, I'm afraid," Hank said, not missing Alex's incredulous reaction. "It's late and we need to figure out how we're going to go to Maxwell Lord. I'm sure you'll be willing to help with that."

Seeing no other option on the table, Alex took it. "You bet."

"As for you three," Hank looked at the visitors again, "We secured a hotel for you to stay the night, all expenses paid. Tomorrow morning I will personally take you to Maxwell Lord for your questioning."

"And me?" Anais curiously wondered. The plan was great, it just didn't seem to include her as much as she wanted.

"It's best if you stay hidden," Hank replied, not surprising her too much.

"We agree," Mr. Allen said all too pleased. "We don't know if this substance is affecting all aliens in the region."

"Dad—"

"Don't even try it, dear," Mrs. Allen softly smiled at the blonde, urging Anais to save her breath. "It's the safest option for you."

Sure. Anais put forwards her best understanding smile possible. Her mind had already come up with an assignment of her own for the next day. The best part was it had exploration in the main part.

~0~

CatCo. was busy as usual early in the morning. There were new issues being made for the following deadline and Cat Grant was not a woman who accepted tardiness. This was the spectacle Anais walked into after the elevator dinged open. She didn't even mind that two employees had nearly run into her with stacks of papers. Her smile widened when she potted the Art Department on the far left of the bullpen. She'd never been anywhere near this sort of place.

In her awe, she now bumped into someone. She stumbled back a step - as did the other person - and blinked with terrible guilt. "I'm so sorry! I'm lost!"

The other person turned out to be a dark-haired man with green eyes. He didn't seem upset when Anais did a quick and discreet look-over. "Don't worry. I'm Winn Schott, the I.T., can I help you?"

"Uh…" Anais quickly looked to the side in thought. She didn't really think about what she would do after coming into the place. It took her very little effort to figure out who Agent Alex Danvers' sister was - a Kara Danvers - and where said sister worked. It helped that she worked for the Queen of all Media. But now that she was here, Anais didn't even know how she would find Kara nor what she would say to the Kryptonian.

In all this thinking time, Winn had stared at the blonde woman, waiting for her answer. "U-uh...hello?" He waved a hand in front of Anais' face to bring her back to the present.

The woman blinked back to the present and widely smiled. "I'm, uh, looking for...uh...Kara...Danvers…"

Not a moment after she'd spoken the name did they hear an elevator ding. What confused Anais was that this elevator was set up opposite of the one she'd come in through. When the doors slid open, a dark blonde woman in a tight black dress, holding a latte in hand, emerged.

"Why are there two ele…" Anais trailed off as Winn dashed towards the second blonde.

"That's Cat's elevator!" he reminded Kara in a rush.

This did not seem to do much for the woman. She walked over to her desk, which happened to be a couple feet from the grand office. "It is absolutely ridiculous for her to have her own personal elevator, plus horrible for the environment," the woman casually rolled her eyes.

"KE-RAH!"

Winn winced at the loud scream of Cat. Anais still remained where Winn left her and only mouthed 'Ke-rah?' in confusion. It took her only a couple seconds to put two and two together.

Kara Danvers!

And to prove her thoughts, Winn was ever so helpful. "You are literally impervious to bullets and I'm worried for your safety right now!" he managed to get out before Cat arrived with eyes blazing in anger.

Definitely Kara Danvers, Anais began to smile.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" demanded Cat. Another woman, a dark brunette arrived just a couple seconds later, holding a couple papers on hand which Anais knew at once were photographs.

"Your latte, Ms. Grant," Kara held out the cup, still looking unbothered about the situation. "Walking from the main elevator takes an extra 90 seconds, which means your latte's 90 seconds colder."

Cat's eyes flickered from the cup to Kara. It was as if she was waiting for Kara to snap back to the one shy assistant Cat had known for a while. But when Kara didn't, Cat accepted it with conditional terms. "Brazen. That's a new color on you. I don't mind it. Yet. What do you want?"

The brunette woman was startled. Cat hadn't even turned to give her proper attention but she would take whatever she got. "I've got a scoop for you. Can we talk? In private? Allez." Cat was never one to refuse a scoop and so agreed to see the woman in her office.

As soon as they were gone, Anais moved up to Kara's desk. "U-um, hi. You don't know me but I-I—"

"I don't," Kara settled a rather cold disdain look on Anais. This was nowhere near the Kara Danvers that Winn knew and loved. He looked between the two with rather concern.

"Right, but believe me...I know you…" Anais almost shivered when she began to feel some of the coldness inside Kara. "I think you're sick…"

Kara laughed and languidly pointed at Anais. "And who's she?" she asked from Winn.

"I-I don't know...we were getting to that…" the man stuttered and motioned Anais to get on with it.

"Anais Allen, nice to meet you," Anais shook hands with Winn then attempted to do the same with Kara but the latter only offered a condescending stare. "Okay, let me try again. I'm from the DEO—" and this certainly got attention from Winn, "—and my parents are studying some...possible leads to your...odd behavior."

Kara frowned. "I am feeling just fine," her spat startled Anais. She moved around the desk, causing Winn to back up for space. "So you can tell Hank and Alex and all those little people that they can stop worrying. And you—" she got in Anais' face, "—can go back to wherever it is you came from. I don't need you. I doubt anyone here does. Bye."

She left Anais wide eyed but not offended. That darkness inside Kara was what scared her, actually.

"I…" poor Winn did not have a word to explain her friend's erratic behavior. His finger pointed after Kara and despite having his mouth open, he couldn't get past his stutter. "I don't—"

Anais raised a hand to stop him. "It's fine," she spoke serious for the first time. She turned to him with a matching earnest face. "Give me a rundown on Kara Danvers' usual personality."

"What—"

"It's fine, I know who she is," Anais then leaned forwards to whisper, "I'm an alien too."

This just made Winn's eyes nearly pop out of his head. "Y-you're a…" his finger made a swirling motion above his head.

Anais smiled, mildly amused by him. "I'm a low level empathic and what I just felt from Kara was utter coldness."

"Empathic? So then you can feel…" Winn trailed off as Anais nodded to confirm his thoughts.

"Very little but right now it's enough."

""Uh, well...Kara is…" Winn paused to think about his description and soon settled on a short one, "Do you know the Powerpuff girls?" Anais gave a slow, silent nod. "Picture Bubbles."

Anais couldn't help laugh. "Okay…then...this Bubbles...has got some weird super villain-esque development going on. Can I use a phone?"

"Yeah, of course," Winn led her back to his desk which turned out not to be that far from Kara's.

"I don't have a phone, sorry," Anais offered a sheepish smile for her lack of technology.

"That's a new one," Winn gestured to the phone for her to use.

Anais was about to dial when his words registered in her mind. "Hold on, I just told you that I'm an alien with low level empathic abilities and that I'm here from an organization that deals with aliens but me not owning a cellphone is the shocker?"

Winn saw how that looked and offered his own sheepish smile. Anais' smile turned into another laugh. "So...what exactly are you going to do?" Winn asked after Anais finally dialed a number. "You're gonna call the DEO?"

"Worse, my parents," Anais didn't need to be empathic to know how angry her parents were going to be with her after discovering she left the hotel without their permission. "It was nice knowing you." She took in a deep breath and began to talk on the phone.

~0~

That same night, Anais was brought back to the DEO and had a round of lectures going from her parents to Hank...and even to Alex.

"You could have outed Supergirl to people!" the older Danvers sister was the last one to have her turn.

"But I didn't," Anais tried to point out her good things as much as she could. "That Winn guy already knew Supergirl. Plus, it's not like I went announcing who she moonlights as. I do know things."

"Well you showed poor judgement today, Anais," Mr. Allen still retained that punishment voice of his Anais knew all too well.

"No, I didn't,' Anais sighed deeply. "I am so tired of being treated like that five year old Hank found. I'm not her anymore. I'm a grown woman and it's high time you started treating me like one."

This outburst, despite calm and collected, might as well have been her screaming because her parents were offended.

"Anais," Mrs. Allen began, her voice calm but full of warning for Anais to keep it down, "You know we want you to be safe. And we just want you to be a responsible adult—"

"Then cut the leash!" Anais exclaimed, startling everyone in the room, when she stormed out of the room.

Only Alex seemed to be truly taking in what Anais was saying. It was familiar to Alex since she and Kara had a similar conversation when Kara decided to become Supergirl.

"We should get to work on that antidote," Hank pushed the two scientists towards the tables behind them. "Maxwell Lord already confessed to the red kryptonite situation. He'll be more than glad to work from his cell." He then motioned to the tablet that would produce the video chat between Maxwell and the scientists. There was no way in hell he would he getting out until they reversed what he'd done to Supergirl.

~0~

After a failed night of clubbing, Kara got to meet Cat on their usual balcony spot, as Supergirl.

Wasting my time, Kara kept thinking just as Cat emerged from her office. "What do you want?"

Cat sensed the frosty attitude already but she preferred to think it was nothing for the moment. "Well, I would like to know if Ashton Kutcher and his camera crew are hiding underneath your cape. Supergirl would never release an evil alien caught in the act of armed robbery. So, I assume I'm being Punk'd." Despite replaying Siobhan's images of Supergirl doing just that, she couldn't believe it. There had to be a proper reason for it.

"I wouldn't assume anything from now on, Cat," Supergirl casually waved the media Queen off.

"Did you just call me Cat?"

Supergirl got up from her chair and went to lean on the balcony. "You branded me in the media as a Girl Scout. 'Supergirl is brave, kind and strong.'" Mmm-hmm? Isn't that kind of a stock characterization? Very two-dimensional. Everyone knows real people have a dark side."

Even Supergirl's steps were off, Cat noticed. Usually the Kryptonian would tread lightly, determined to figure out what was wrong. The Supergirl right now, though, walked with a condescending air. A superior one. "Yes, but you don't get to be a real person. You're a superhero. You get to represent all the goodness in the world."

"Yeah, well, I'm sick of it. And you know what else I'm sick of? Enabling all of you in your victimhood. 'Oh, well, my building's burning down," Supergirl mocked the humans she now thought worthless and idiotic, "La-di-dah. Supergirl will just swoop in and save the day.' Well, get used to the flames, people, 'cause I quit."

And yet, none of this made sense to Cat. "Supergirl... I fear that you're having some sort of mental breakdown. Don't worry, it happens to the best of us, and I'm happy to take you to Dr. Shuman for emergency Lexapro, that is, if your alien brain will respond to the SSRls. But in the meantime, I would lay low. This haughty attitude is highly unsuitable."

Supergirl scoffed. "Well, I learned it from the best. Cat Grant. You're the most arrogant, self-serving, mean-spirited person I know."

Cat nearly lost it but she kept herself cool when she made her own response. "Now, you listen to me. I made you. And you are not going to let me down."

Supergirl almost laughed. "Or what? Wait, I forgot. You're the most powerful person in National City. At least that's what they say on TV. You want to see what powerful really looks like?" she struck a strong hand forwards, grabbing Cat's arm. "Watch." She threw Cat over the balcony and peered below to watch the woman scream in terror during her fall. Then, just a mere inch from the pavement did Supergirl catch Cat. By this point, there were several people on the spot watching. With hair all over her face, Cat watched as Supergirl towered over her. "True power, Cat, is deciding who will live and who will die. And don't ever call me again." She sprang into the air and left her spectacle.

~0~

The next day, Alex walked into the favorite coffee shop that Kara usually visited in the mornings. She spotted the blonde alien she was searching for, ironically not her sister yet, sitting at the counter. It appeared Anais had only ordered a small espresso.

"How'd you even find me?" Anais spoke quietly in her seat. Her finger traced the espresso cup despite its heat. Knowing Alex was looking at this action, she added, "I'm impervious to heat. Part of being a Solista."

"Right," Alex made a mental note to do some research on what a 'Solista' was. There had to be a record of it in the DEO.

"So how'd you find me?"

"Your monitoring gave us a specific vitals to search for, specifically heat levels."

"Ah," Anais picked up her espresso and took a big drink from it, proving once again her impervious to heat ability.

"Listen, you and I, we don't know each other that well to have a heart to heart conversation but I know you have professionalism and initiative."

"Well that's great, any way you can pass the message to the others?"

Alex let the sarcasm slide on account of the situation. "I get you want freedom—"

"Do you really?" Anais challenged, lowering her cup. She knew that Alex meant no harm. She was probably trying to find some help for her sister. Nothing to be ashamed of. It was simply tiring to be stuck in the same spot. Anais was done with it. "They found me when I was 5 years old. My mother was an alien and my father a human who became afraid of her when he learned what she was. He left us. Humans murdered my mother out of fear and when the DEO found me, they thought that I could turn out to be a threat. But my adoptive parents, they didn't see me that way and fought and negotiated to take me in. They adopted me under special circumstances and conditions. Those conditions came from the government and it said that I could not be left unsupervised. I'm a rare species as it is, and I'm half human, so...you can imagine the interest in me. Eighteen years I've lived in isolation with only my parents and godparents. These people are older, scientists, and human. I love them but I want to go out and do something. Have a life."

Alex lowered her gaze after listening. It was easy to forget that not every alien would've had the same nice backstory like Kara and her cousin. Some of them could have very well ended up as lab rats. Anais, while being lucky to have found sympathizing human parents, didn't necessarily boast a social life. She was kept under wraps that not even Hank was able to undo. "I'm sorry," Alex truly felt for her. "I'm sorry that you have not had this opportunity. My sister sort of had a similar problem when growing up. We asked her not to use her powers, but…"

"She's now Supergirl. She got over it," Anais then added in a quiet voice, "Wish I could've met her and not the evil bitch living inside of her at the moment."

"Kara isn't right—"

"I know that," Anais showed no resentment towards Kara for the same reason. The woman wasn't in her five senses. "And that's why I wanted to help. I wanted to go see Kara for myself and assess. I felt her coldness, her... condescension. The real Kara is suffocating in there."

Alex felt tears come to her eyes as she thought about her sweet sister trapped in a woman of hell. "Can you help?"

"I'm not a scientist but I can help with the delivery of an antidote," Anais let her eyes glow a fiery orange, startling Alex for a second. "Supergirl's my hero. It would be an honor to help her."

Alex smiled with gratitude. Just as she opened her mouth, a television screen near them produced Cat Grant's face. "Citizens of National City, this is Cat Grant, live from Catco Plaza. As you all know, I have been Supergirl's most outspoken champion. So, you can imagine how difficult it is for me to tell you that I and Catco can no longer stand behind Supergirl."

Anais' mouth slowly fell open. "What is she…?"

"I made you trust her. I gave you my word that she was safe, a friend. I was wrong. Supergirl has changed. She is unstable and extremely dangerous. She threw me off of a building last night and threatened my life and…"

"She did what—"

Alex couldn't believe what she was hearing. "No one told us..."

"Who knows what else she is capable of? It's not easy being let down by our idols. Having someone who embodies our heroic ideals helps us believe that we can be heroes, too. Sometimes heroes fall. So, please, for your own safety, stay away from Supergirl."

"She just turned the city against Supergirl," Anais came to the realization not long after the transmission had ended.

"We have to head back to the DEO," Alex began to get up from the stool. "Something tells me Kara's not gonna take this lightly."

"You should go see her. I'll get back to the DEO. I promise," Anais dropped off the money for her drink and started out. She could not let the mantle of Supergirl drop like that, not when she had the means to stop it.

When she got to the DEO, she quickly passed all the warm welcome from her parents and got to business. "Look, Mom, Dad, she needs help stat. I could feel the coldness inside her and it is awful. She needs our help."

"We've got the antidote almost ready," her father promised. "Maxwell Lord might be a suspicious man but he does regret this red kryptonite situation."

"He should," Hank came into the room and shut the door. "He may have turned Supergirl into a monster now."

"One that the city might learn to fear quick," Anais knew that Cat's transmission was on a constant loop for those who hadn't caught up with the latest news.

"No need, it's coming along just fine," Mrs. Allen was in the middle of dropping in a red liquid into a beaker. "Might I suggest prison time for this Lord man?"

"We wish," Hank was bitter just thinking about their powerless situation. "Unfortunately, making red kryptonite isn't exactly a crime."

"But it was a murder weapon," Mr. Allen frowned.

"Didn't exactly kill anyone."

"Your law system isn't very good," Anais meant that in general for the humans.

"Well we do try, Miss Allen," a dark-skinned woman walked into the room with several guards. Anais instinctively took a step back towards her parents. She could practically smell the official government scent off the woman. "I'm Senator Crane," the woman introduced herself. "And as of now, you Miss Allen, are the being who will take Supergirl down."

Anais' eyes widened with alarm. She quickly glanced at her parents for some help, even Hank. Mr. Allen put his hands over her shoulders and looked directly at Senator Crane. "Our daughter is part of an exclusive contract that does not permit her to use her powers in front of civilians."

"And as of right now, that contract has been voided," Senator Crane responded with that authorization that only a person in true power could use. She motioned one of the guards to hand over a pile of papers to Mr. Allen, which turned out to be a contract. "As of now, your custody of Subject 1740, Anais Mjorkland, has been terminated. She is now DEO property—" Anais' mouth fell open in overwhelming offence, "—to which—" the Senator threw a glance at Hank, "-I order to use this new asset to take Supergirl down."

"Excuse you—" Anais was about to go on a full rage rampage but she felt her father squeeze her shoulders, urging her to keep calm.

"Senator," Mrs. Allen began, her motherly concern etched across her face, "My daughter is not an 'asset' and she most definitely is not property you can just hand around—"

"I am sorry," the Senator repeated her apology, not that any of the family believed her. "I understand the terminology is difficult—"

"Offensive," Anais snapped. "It's offensive."

"—but the condition to keep the child was to give conditional custody to the U.S government. The custody is now the DEO's and Mr. Henkshaw knows how to utilize his materials. We thank you for all the years you put into her but you are now relieved of any responsibility of her."

"Are you kidding me!?" Anais exclaimed, her head repeatedly looking from her parents to the Senator. "I'm 23! You can't—you can't do this! I want to help Supergirl, not kill her. I could never hurt her."

"As of now, you follow the orders the DEO gives you," the Senator flexed a finger for Anais to come to her and Hank.

Anais shook her head, unable to take a step away from her parents.

"Senator…" Mr. Allen pleaded with the woman, but the deal was done.

Anais belonged to the DEO.

"You need to get ready, Miss Allen. We are sending you out."

"Dad…" Anais' eyes filled with tears. Suddenly her fight with her parents seemed petty and now all she wanted to do was take refuge with them. "Mom?"

Mr. Allen brought a hand to his forehead after reading the contract. "This is...it's legal...I don't…"

"I order you to assemble the troops for backup," the Senator warned Hank before taking her leave with her guards.

"I don't want to hurt anyone," Anais repeated, not that it mattered anymore. There wasn't much anyone could do at the moment and she knew it.

"Sweetheart, no one is going to let you become property, alright?" Mrs. Allen cupped her face. "We're going to fix it, I swear. You're not a subject to us, you're our daughter."

Hank cleared his throat to get their attention. "Anais, for now, it's best to just follow the contract. Afterwards we can personally go over it and change it again. But we really do need to bring Supergirl the antidote."

"We trust you, Hank," Mr. Allen warned him. "You saved her the first time...don't let anything happen to her."

"Of course," Hank's gesture for Anais to follow him was hard enough seeing, let alone following it.

With a gulp, Anais took one last look at her parents then walked out of the room with Hank. For the girl who'd always wanted to go out, she was terrified now that she had the opportunity.

~ 0 ~

Hearing what the DEO was planning on doing was probably the second most horrible thing Alex had heard that night. Her visit to Kara's apartment had been unsuccessful on her part — evil Kara got to say everything off her chest.

"Take this," Alex gently handed over a simple mask to Anais as the troops readily got into the vans that would soon go on the hunt for Supergirl.

Anais stared blankly at the mask in Alex's hands. Alex thought this entire thing was difficult enough, she really didn't want to deal with a refusing alien. "Look, please just take the mask. Hank said you need to protect your—"

"I know what it means," Anais quietly said and crossed her arms. "I don't need it."

With a sigh, Alex held the mask closer to Anais. "I don't like this any more than you do, believe me, but they're orders."

"No, I meant, I really don't need it," Anais raised her head and let Alex in on her secret. Anais' face glowed golden as something formed over her eyes - a mask.

Alex watched in awe as the golden light formed a mask that went around Anais' eyes with small flame-figures streaking midway down her cheeks. "How'd you do that?" asked Alex who now lowered the mask in her hand.

"It's just creating shapes with my powers, honestly. My mother said it was basic enough so that all Solista toddlers knew how to do it, even a half-Solista."

"Oh…" Alex knew this was just as troublesome for Anais. Honestly, she felt ready to die.

"Ladies," Hank called to them from the other end of the room, "Are we ready?"

"Don't really have a choice, do we?" Anais glanced at Alex, neither of them ready for the plan. The antidote was ready, but the way they would deliver it and the circumstances of it were not very pleasing.

~ 0 ~

Supergirl had made herself known for the wrong reasons all on her own. Cat's informative transmission remained on a constant loop and so that was the first thing she took down. Strong, white lasers shattered the street screen hanging from a freeway bridge. She laughed maniacally as the humans screamed in terror.

"Idiots," she flew to the next closest transmission and proceeded to punch it with a sole fist. She watched with satisfaction as it too shattered and crumbled to the ground.

And then she began to think why just go for the transmissions? All those pathetic humans waiting for her to rescue them like she had no other things to do. Well, now they would have to save themselves. She started causing havoc around the streets, making cars crash into each other and cracking cemented roads.

It was all just too much fun.

In all that fun, she missed the speedster coming in from behind who rammed into her. Supergirl's scream as she tumbled across the street almost matched that of the humans'.

Anais skidded to a stop, wide, blinking eyes taking in the destruction Supergirl was causing. "Oh my God…"

Supergirl raised her head, her blonde hair flipping over her shoulders. "Who the hell do you think you are?"

"Hopefully, the girl who saves Supergirl," Anais answered with nothing but honesty.

"I'm not the one who needs saving," Supergirl got back on her feet and dusted off her new black one-suit.

Her eyes flickered to the side. Anais followed it and saw a couple of humans still inside their car, trying to get away from them. "Supergirl…" she barely got the words out when Supergirl picked up a sewer lid and threw it like a boomerang at the car. "No!" Anais sped towards the car while Supergirl laughed once again.

Anais reached the sewer lid first and grabbed it like nothing, redirecting it somewhere else. She glared at Supergirl for that awful trick. "We have the antidote, see?" She pulled out a small metalic gun with the red liquid showing off in the back. "Just let us cure you."

"I don't need cures. I need people to understand that their Girl Scout superhero is gone," Supergirl gestured to the mess around them. "Though if you want to take the mantle...then it's me vs you."

"No, that's really okay—"

Supergirl fired her heat vision at Anais, something the alien speedster hadn't really processed in time. This time it was Anais whose screams echoed down the street. She scrunched her face and decided to fire back with the same power, only a bigger one. Her heat vision met Supergirl's, and the two's powers reverberated in a deadly manner.

And then suddenly, Supergirl swerved to the side and forced Anais to fall forwards from the lack of an opponent's response. Supergirl flew towards Anais and delivered a punch right on her stomach. Anais felt that to the core, literally, as she landed against an already crashed car.

At the same time, a D.E.O. car arrived and Alex jumped out from the back with another weapon similar to Anais', only much bigger. Supergirl glanced over her shoulder. "Outnumbering will not help you." She turned around just as Alex took aim. "Classic Alex. Always in time to ruin the fun."

"Supergirl!" Hank arrived on the spot as well. "Stand down!"

Supergirl's smirk said the opposite. "Supergirl, yes." She threw her heat vision at Alex which then made Alex drop the weapon to the side. She charged directly for Alex, and twisted Alex's arm before slamming the human against the D.E.O. van. Hank couldn't let anything happen to either woman. The man changed into a green creature - an alien - and crashed with Supergirl onto the ground.

Anais had shaken off the stars from her attack and sped back to the scene. Her mouth fell open at the sight but she could see that this was not enough to stop Supergirl either. Just as Supergirl fought against the green alien - later to be known as a Martian - Anais summoned up as much power she could.

"Back for round two—"

Anais punched Supergirl across the face and then rose in the air for a final trick. A golden light encircled her body and released blasts of golden energy directly at Supergirl, proving to be quite a menace as Supergirl was knocked onto the roadside. Her skin shined with the same energy of Anais' as the former screamed, hands nearly carving into her face to get the energy off her. Still in the air, Anais fired the antidote from her small gun and hoped to God it would be over. Supergirl's skin then showed streaks of red but ultimately wore off as a black cloud steamed from her body. After such an attack, the Kryptonian collapsed on the ground.

Anais lowered herself to the ground with a growing smile. Supergirl would be alright now.

"Go, please" she heard Alex. She turned her head and remembered Hank's reveal. Bringing her hand to her mouth, Anais watched as multiple DEO troops surrounded Hank and despite having the ability to escape...he changed back into his human form and put his hands behind his head, lowering himself to the ground.

He was arrested on the spot.

~ 0 ~

When Kara woke up, she felt her forehead connected to some machine. Her eyes flickered to the side and immediately saw Alex standing beside her. "Did I kill anyone?" Kara's voice was quiet and weak.

"No, you didn't kill anyone," Alex could see the emotion just about to pour from her sister's eyes.

Kara then noticed the cast around Alex's arm and remembered what she'd done. "Your arm..." she choked on her own tears.

"Broken bones heal and this will too," Alex promised her.

Kara sniffled until she couldn't hold it any longer. She burst into sobs. "It was so horrible, Alex. It was so bad. It was so horrible. Every bad thought I've ever had, it just came to the surface. I couldn't stop it. I didn't mean it...I didn't mean what I said to you! I'm sorry, I'm sorry for what I said!"

Alex set a comforting (healed) hand on Kara's arm. "Kara, you're my sister and I love you. No matter what. There's some truth to what you said. We're going to have to work on that."

Kara could only nod. More memories began to surface into her mind. "What about J'onn?"

There, Alex could not answer very well.

~ 0 ~

Anais watched her parents go back and forth with different calls attempting to open up negotiations with anyone in power to redo the contract of her custody. Now that Hank Henshaw was revealed to be another alien - one presumed to have killed the real Hank Henshaw - the contract was even harder to change. The only thing Anais could do to pass the time was to visit the quaint coffee shop she had the previous day. Her parents refused to leave the city until the custody battle was done and won so they would be staying in the hotel to see it through. She herself had no legal say, ironically, in her own battle.

"Thank you," Anais accepted an espresso from the counter girl and gazed up at the screen above her to see her own figure in the screen. A small smile came to her face as CatCo. passed the few shots of her they'd gotten from people last night, fighting Supergirl. No one knew where the mysterious new fighter came from, but unlike Hank, she was being rejoiced as a new hero.

Poor Supergirl, Anais inwardly sighed. This was never how she pictured her first meeting with her favorite superhero. Fate was a tricky thing. But perhaps it was only getting started.

Someone cleared their throat behind Anais' stool and when Anais glanced back she saw a much different Kara Danvers standing there. Even her clothes had reverted to a preppy assistant type. It fit her, thought Anais.

"Hi, um…" Kara didn't know what to say and so awkwardly pushed her glasses up. "Uh...I wanted to thank you, um...for helping my sister and...me...last night. Um...I bought a gift." Anais watched her quickly lay a manila folder on the counter. "It's for you and your family."

Anais reached for the folder and opened it up. She found a couple papers inside and skimmed it (speed reading was a big no in public). With widened eyes she glanced back at Kara who awaited with a sheepish smile. "This is a new contract," Anais lowered the contract to the folder. "The one my parents are fighting for right now."

"I know," Kara managed a small smile through her utter sorry and embarrassment. "I talked to Alex about you and she told me what happened with you and your parents. It was my fault—"

"No, none of it was—" Anais tried to intervene but Kara kept going, determined to finish.

"I said and did awful things and it hurt a lot of people. I want to make amends and fix what I can. You are not property. You are not an experiment. That contract gives you your freedom to decide on whatever you want. The only clause is that you must work with the DEO. as I am, and follow up with them and the government with your training sessions."

"Tr-training session?" Anais repeated. It was the only thing her mouth could form because everything else was still being processed with all its implications.

"Um...given your abilities, I thought I could use a hand...a partner...out in the field," Kara admitted then added, "Especially since the city hates me right now." It was how she got the contract pushed through. Supergirl was in dire need of some help to regain her reputation and since Anais had already done such a good job before, she would be the perfect partner.

"I would...I would love to," Anais began to smile at the prospect of working with Supergirl. "This is like a dream…"

The two women shared a small laughter in their seats.

"You know, yesterday...and the day before...you didn't meet the real me," Kara began again, this time quiet and guilt-riddened. "I would really like to start new again, if you would give me the opportunity."

"Of course," Anais didn't have any doubts who the real Kara Danvers was. Bubbles. She inwardly laughed at Winn's comparison.

Then, out of nowhere, Kara held a hand out. "I'm Kara Danvers, nice to meet you."

With another smile, Anais shook Kara's hand. "Anais Allen."

#ocappreciation #arrowverseocs #supergirl #winn schott #fd: supergirl #supergirl fics #winn schott fics #supergirl imagines #winn schoot imagines #oc: anais allen-mjorkland #oc: solar

11 notes · View notes

end-of-pizza · 5 years ago

Text

WEIRD ANIME NIGHT

guys, I’m going to level with you. I am running out of weird anime’s I have watched. I want to do these guys every week I really do....and I have a stack of VHS tapes and DVD’s downstairs to dig through that MIGHT have some more gold in them, but it would be SUPER COOL of you if you would DM me some ideas or suggestions to look into in the coming weeks and months now I said I am RUNNING OUT, that doesnt mean I’m empty. Tonight I am going to go on a tangent, and talk about one anime you dudes have LIKELY seen already MOBILE FIGHTER G GUNDAM

You might say to yourself, hey Brian, that show isn’t THAT weird, gundam is a big big robot show, and that is just another cookie cutter big big robo show

BUT YOU ARE WRONG

DEAD WRONG

Mobile fighter g gundam was only the 9th gundam series ever made, and the series it follows Victory gundam is considered one of the darkest in gundams canon, where kill them all Tomino really showed that he earned that name, it wasn’t gifted to him. I mean the shows about a 12 year old who, in its final act fights a giant, moon sized ring full of psychics that try to reduce humanity to animal like stupidity so that they can rule the earth, and also like…..all of his friends die. All of them, most of them children. Victory gundam is dark as shit

G Gundam though? Naw, this show is like two clicks away from being a gundam skin over top of a king of braves show. I mean let me break it down like this. G gundam is about a buncha people, hired by their countries to represent them in a martial arts tournament , with giant robots that used to be used for war, but that war destroyed earth real bad, so instead they still destroy earth real bad with giant robots, but instead of war, its just a boxing match and they make it clear that this ish is bad for the earth like EVERY city is fucked, and whoever wins the tournament, their government gets to be dictators of the world and space for 4 years.

and its played for laughs

I also want to mention for people who are passingly familiar with Gundam through things like wing or seed etc, and know that gundam has different time lines, THIS is the first alternate timeline, this is the first non UC timeline in the whole of gundam. Imagine if the last few shows were, a war drama about a 14 year old being drafted and getting ptsd, then a sequal where a child psychic also gets drafted then his parents die, then the girl he loves tries to kill him and dies, then a sequal to that where again, a ton of main characters die, then a sequal movie where two of the main characters of the entire show both die, then a show about a boy making a new friend, who turns out to be a soldier, and introducing them to his next door neighbor who turns out to be a soldier, then while trying to help his new friend, his neighbor murders him, ON CHRISTMAS, then he has to just go back to normal life because he kept all of this a secret to everyone.

AFTER THAT ALL WE GET THIS

youtube

I mean it took a show that for 20 years had been a dead ass serious war drama, and turned it into well......MMA with robots and dudes (and a few ladies) in latex cat suits using magic to destroy famous land marks

THE WIKI SAYS Unlike previous series in the Gundam franchise which are set in the "Universal Century" timeline, Mobile Fighter G Gundam takes place in an alternate "Future Century" universe.[1][2] Within this timeline, much of mankind has abandoned a ruined Earth to live in space colonies. The countries on Earth have corresponding colonies just outside the planet's atmosphere. Rather than fight wars for political and social dominance, the colonies agree to hold a "Gundam Fight" tournament every four years. Each country sends to Earth a representative piloting a highly-advanced, humanoid mobile fighter called a Gundam. The Gundams compete with one another in one-on-one battles, under a strict set of rules, until only one fighter remains; the nation represented by the winner earns the right to rule all of space for that period.[2] Each Gundam is controlled directly by the user within the cockpit using the "Mobile Trace System", a gesture recognition and feedback mechanism whereby the Gundam mimics the pilot's own body motion, combat skills, and weapon-wielding capabilities.[1]G Gundam opens at the start of the 13th Gundam Fight in Future Century year 60 and follows Neo Japan's Domon Kasshu, fighter of his nation's Shining Gundam and bearer of the coveted "King of Hearts" martial arts crest.[1] Aside from winning the tournament, Domon's mission is to track down his fugitive, older brother Kyoji, who allegedly stole the experimental Dark Gundam from Neo Japan's government, leaving their mother dead and their father (Dr. Raizo Kasshu) to be arrested and placed in a cryogenic state.[3]

Under orders from Major Ullube Ishikawa, Domon and his childhood friend and mechanic Rain Mikamura travel from country to country, challenging each one's Gundam while searching for clues to the whereabouts of Kyoji and the Dark Gundam.[3] Domon's initial matches with Neo America's Chibodee Crocket, Neo France's George DeSand, Neo China's Sai Sai Ci, and Neo Russia's Argo Gulskii end in draws, gaining mutual respect among the fighters.[1][2] As they encounter Gundam pilots who had come in contact with the Dark Gundam, Domon and Rain learn of its unique cellular properties to regenerate, multiply, and evolve by infecting organic matter and causing violent behavior in living things.[3] The duo then journey to Neo Tokyo, a city decimated by the Dark Gundam's army of mobile weapons. Domon reunites with his esteemed martial arts instructor Master Asia, who is also the champion of the last Gundam Fight, the former King of Hearts, and one-time leader of an elite group of Gundam fighters called the Shuffle Alliance. After Domon and Rain help the city's survivors defend their last outpost in Shinjuku, Master Asia reveals himself as a servant of the Dark Gundam, having also gained control over Chibodee, George, Sai Sai Ci, and Argo using Dark Gundam (DG) cells.[2][3] The four remaining members of the Shuffle Alliance intervene and vow to destroy their previous leader for his crimes. Ultimately, the Alliance members offer their lives in purging the DG cells from Domon's four comrades and bestow each of them with a Shuffle Alliance crest as their successors. Kyoji and the enormous Dark Gundam eventually appear from beneath the ground of Shinjuku, but shortly thereafter vanish alongside Master Asia. As the Shuffle Alliance trains in the Guiana Highlands for the Gundam Fight finals, Master Asia and the Dark Gundam reappear.[3] With the help of his friends and a new ally in Neo Germany's masked warrior Schwarz Bruder, Domon defeats the Dark Gundam. When the Shining Gundam becomes incapacitated during the battle, Domon desperately manages to activate a newly acquired God Gundam(AKA Burning Gundam outside Japan), escape Master Asia, and make his way to the finals set in Neo Hong Kong.[2][4]

The Gundam Fight finals are presided over by Wong Yunfat, Neo Hong Kong's prime minister and the current ruler of the space colonies and Earth. Wong chooses to have the qualifying nations battle in one-on-one and tag team preliminary matches to reach a battle royale on Lantau Island, where the tournament is to end with the winner facing the defending champion Master Asia.[2][4] Having gained possession of the Dark Gundam, Wong secretly plots to revive and control it as his trump card to inevitably maintain his own power over space. Domon and his companions make their way to the battle royale while several truths concerning the Dark Gundam are unveiled. Rain's father, Dr. Mikamura, eventually explains that the Dark Gundam (originally called the Ultimate Gundam) was constructed by Dr. Kasshu to rejuvenate the dying Earth. Jealous of his genius colleague, Dr. Mikamura had Neo Japan's officials attempt to confiscate Kasshu's creation. To prevent the military from using his father's invention for its own agenda, Kyoji fled with and crash landed the Gundam on Earth, where its computer malfunctioned, triggering its malevolent activity. Ullube subsequently had Dr. Kasshu arrested, framed Kyoji as a criminal, and used Domon and Rain as pawns in recovering the Gundam.[4] In a separate confession, Master Asia discloses to Domon that, having been distressed by the utter destruction wrought by the Gundam Fights, he planned to use the Dark Gundam to wipe out humanity and allow Earth to heal naturally.[2] The battle on Lantau Island culminates with Domon fatally besting Master Asia in a final confrontation, while Kyoji and Schwarz sacrifice themselves so that Domon can attack the Dark Gundam's cockpit and disable it once again.[4] Though the schemes of both Wong and Master Asia are foiled, Ullube quietly claims the Dark Gundam and transports it to Neo Japan's space colony for his own purpose. Having been corrupted by DG cells with ambitions of supreme power, Ullube kidnaps Rain and places her into the Dark Gundam's core to act as its energy source. The hulking monstrosity then merges with the colony and begins absorbing Earth itself.[2] As the entire world's Gundams unite to assault the Dark Gundam from the outside, the Shuffle Alliance breaks inside the colony and destroys Ullube. Finally, Domon professes his love for Rain and releases her from the core. Invoking the power of the King of Hearts, the couple vanquishes the Dark Gundam once and for all

I just rewatched it like a month ago, its real good, def go watch it

if you are the kind of person who was maybe put off by OG gundams TONE or wing gundams edgy-ness, give g gundam a watch its honestly a good anime, its about as shonen as a shonen can legally get. Also its spiritual successor, the Build series is really good too, really liked Build Fighters Try A LOT, and I guess like.....it might be canon to this reality? its weird. Gundams weird when it comes to canonisity, its sort of all canon kinda.

∀ ∀ ∀ ∀ ∀ ∀ ∀ ∀ ∀ ∀ ∀ ∀ ∀ ∀ ∀ ∀ ∀ ∀ ∀ ∀ ∀ ∀ ∀ ∀ ∀ ∀ ∀ ∀ ∀ ∀ ∀

Also the model kits for this show, and you knew I was going to bring up Gunpla at some point, well they come in two qualities

AWESOME and brand new

or shit and 20 years old

So if you collect these things like I do…..get both kinds of their kits

They’re good.

Have a good one

~Hoover

#weird anime night #gundam #g gundam #not pizza

41 notes · View notes

kickingitwithkirk · 4 years ago

Text

Happy Coincidence Chance Discovery

Pairing: Sam Winchester x Piper, Jared Padalecki x Piper,

Characters: Dean Winchester /Jensen Ackles, mentions of Chad Michael Murray

Word Count:4367

Warnings: cursing, kissing, nudity, implied sex/genital fondling/teasing

*Jared and Jensen are single.

A/N: for @idreamofplaid Thanks for the Memories Challenge #plaid and the memories HAPPY BIRTHDAY JARED🎉

Prompt: Season 11, episode 4, Baby

A/N: Baby is my favorite episode but every time I’ve watched it I kept wondering; Sam’s hook up with Piper the waitress? So this is my fill in that blank with a Jared twist.

Divider: created by @writeyourmindaway

*No beta all mistakes are mine

Dean drives into the parking lot of a roadhouse just after dusk and Sam looks at the marquee shaking his head in disbelief.

“Are you serious? Dean, it's late, I’m exhausted and..and.. and starving. And this place. I mean, even Swayze wouldn't come to this roadhouse.” Sam groused.

“First of all, never use Swayze’s name in vain, okay. Ever.” Dean chastises his brother for such a sacrilege, “Second, you don't remember this place? You don't remember Heather, the hunter we worked the wendigo case a couple years ago?”

“Oh, yeah,” Sam partially smiles, remembering that night of fun.

“Yeah, exactly” Dean taking the same trip down memory lane.

“What, she’s here tonight?” Sam asks, perking up a bit.

“I texted her, she's working a rugaru case in Texas.” Dean says.

“Actually, she never texted me back. That's not the point, the point is that we have a ton of driving left to do just to go to a town where it's not probably a case.” Dean points ahead, “But in there, good times.”

“Uh...” Sam hedges looking at the building.

“But time heals all wounds, especially good times. What do ya say?” Dean looks at his brother hopeful.

“I say... knock yourself out.” Sam answers with his usual reply and Dean looks away, “I'm gonna find a diner and dig into the lore like Cas did, see if anythings ever happened where we’re headed.”

“Ah man, you really got to learn to have fun.” Dean’s reply was full of disappointment in his little brother.

“Seriously. It’s pathetic.”

They both climb out of the Impala. Sam grabs his bag from the backseat and starts walking back towards town as Dean heads into the roadhouse.

***

Sam had walked over a mile looking for somewhere to eat. Being Saturday night he thought there’d be more open but that’s small town living, the streets roll up at noon on the weekends.

He was about to give up and hike back to that mom & pop gas station he passed for a microwave burrito, preferably bean to get back at Dean, when he happened upon a small, local place, Mak’s Diner.

Hitching his bag up, he pushed open the door expecting the usual greasy spoon Dean's unerring sense navigates towards and stops just inside the front door.

It was an older establishment, obviously one of those passed down from generation to generation places but to his surprise it was well maintained, despite the C on the marquee being burnt out.

“Evening, have a seat anywhere and I’ll be right with you.” A woman’s voice called out from the kitchen. Sam walked past the counter smiling at only other occupants, an elderly couple having coffee and dessert, heading towards the back where family seating was located.

As he passed the next to last booth he noticed a closed laptop, several open books with notes scrawled around their margins, highlighted paragraphs and a few notebooks scattered on its tabletop.

He dropped the bag on the seat and shed his jacket before sliding into the booth, fishing out his laptop and the legal pad that he had started making more notes on earlier.

“Hey there, what can I get you?”

Picking up the menu laying by his elbow Sam glances through it, “Coffee and the Cobb salad, thanks.” He orders closing the menu and looking up to hand it to the waitress. She is differently not what he would have expected to find in a backwater burg like this one.

Her makeup is understated, nails painted a neutral color and her copper hued hair is pulled back in an elegant chiffon, not a high ponytail or hastily bobby pinned up-do, held in place with a real silver clip, the type that’s handed down as an heirloom.

“Just the Cobb salad?” She asked looking under the tabletop, taking in Sam’s long legs somewhat stretched out under it, boots bumping against the other side of the circular booth. Her blue/grey eyes slowly travel up appraising his body till they meet his.

“Big boys like you need more than a few leafy greens for stamina.”

Sam felt himself blushing like he was seventeen again. Waitresses blatantly flirt with Dean and vice versa all the time so he’s taken aback by this woman's more than blatant appraisal of his physique.

“I, um, yeah, ju..just the salad.” Sam stammers out.

“Okay, be back with that coffee.” Her smiles genuinely, not that faked for the customers sake one he’s used to.

Sam appraises her retreating figure like she did him. She’s not wearing the nurses white or black rubber soled shoes that’s usual waitress gear he’s seen but a brand of tennis shoes he knows are out of the typical income of career restaurant staff.

The fifties style, yellow uniforms color is completely unflattering, not fitting her right, way too tight around her bust and hips and far shorter than it should be, her mile long legs on display.

Sam shifts in his seat and tries to discreetly palm down his spontaneous erection but not so little Sam is putting up a fight, making it known it's been way too long since he’s gotten wet and he wants to enjoy her junoesque attributes.

***

While he is waiting for a page to load Sam hears the elderly couple preparing to leave. He watches as the husband helps his wife into her jacket and gently takes her hand, resting it in the crook of his arm as they slowly make their way to the exit, feeling the pang of loneliness that’s his constant companion.

“Mr. Reynolds’s, hang on a sec,” the waitress calls from the kitchen emerging with a white cake box tied shut, “Auntie wanted me to make sure you got this before leaving. She’s sorry she missed your anniversary party.”

“You tell her we missed her, needs to hurry up and get well.” Mrs. Reynolds remarked as her husband took the box with his free hand. She glanced back towards Sam, “Sweetie, you gonna be okay here with the likes of him?”

Sam kept his expression neutral, waiting to see how this plays out. He knew people found him intimidating because of his size and being a stranger in a small town, he definitely stands out but not many were that blatant about it.

“He ordered a Cobb salad, I think I can handle him,” she jested winking at him.

The couple bid her goodnight and she went back into the kitchen, Sam realizing they were now all alone. Sighing, he starts reading the info again trying to figure out what exactly their hunting is. Or not.

He was so focused on his research like usual he didn’t acknowledge the waitress standing there with his order.

“Kmm hmm,” Sam’s head snapped up, “must be something really good if you don’t notice the likes of me.” She chided him setting down a coffee decanter and cup.

“Sorry, guess I was kinda caught up.” Sam moves the laptop and notepad over as she sets down his salad and two types of dressing. “Figured you might not be a ranch type of guy so I grabbed the vinaigrette too.”

“Thanks, I prefer vinaigrette, don’t usually get offered it.”

“I’m pretty good at reading people which is why I also brought you this,” she set down another plate with a lettuce wrapped, curiously colored and, by the smell, not meat burger with all the fixings, a generous helping of baked sweet potato fries and a green colored milkshake.

“I didn’t order this.”

“I know but it cooks night off and I’m trying some new recipes. Seeing as you're the only other one here, you've been conscripted as my guinea pig.” She slid into the other side of his booth where an identical plate rested, “I wasn’t kidding about you needing more than just a salad. Besides, I hate eating alone, you wouldn’t believe how often it happens. Fuck, where’s my manners, I’m Piper.” She stuck her hand out across the table.

He takes her preferred hand amazed how it fits perfectly in his, “Sam.”

“So Sam, figure out what you're hunting yet?” She asked nonchalantly as she picked up her burger, “Cause, not being judgey, but that’s some really random shit you got there.” She takes a bite, watches as his expression bounces between startled and incredulous.

“How…”

“Saw your Tarsus 99 when you took off your jacket. I had one as a kid, then daddy got killed on a hunt and I got sent here to live with Auntie, she doesn’t cotton to hunting.”

Piper picked up a fry pointing it at him, “But what I really wanna know, where the hell did you get that demon blade, ‘cause I’ve never seen one like it before.”

Sam hesitates, “That’s a long story.”

“Don’t close till one and I’ve got nowhere to be after.”

Sam decides to deflect instead of answering. “So what is it you do, because you're definitely not a waitress.”

“Officially, I’m an antique appraiser. Unofficially, I’m helping a wayward hunter who graced my door with something he can’t figure out.”

***

Sam and Piper, after closing the diner, stayed another three hours hashing out the research for his case were now taking their time walking back towards the roadhouse.

“I’ve been wanting to ask, what’s with that name tag?” Sam noticed early it read Maggie.

“Came with this god awful uniform. Auntie insists that we all adhere to how her daddy ran the place. So when I came back to temporarily help out after her surgery, Maggie decided she was not gonna take orders from someone younger, quit and I got stuck with this. I told Auntie it wouldn’t fit, even with letting out the hem. Maggie was like five-four and I’m over five-ten!

Ugh! I keep popping these stupid top buttons and can’t freaking bend over without showing everyone my C U Next Tuesday.”

Sam smiled that nervous smile he got when unsure how to respond to an answer he wasn’t expecting.

“I normally wear this to cover it,” moving her pocketed hands in the light weight, knee length sweater she had put on when they left the diner, “but I have to confess,” Piper turned around, walking backwards, “I took it off when I saw you come in, thought what the hell, been long time since a really cute guy has walk through my door so...” She bit her lip, turning back around as they continued down the lane in companionable silence.

Sam mused over her confession admitting to himself he was interested in her too. He enjoyed sharing different theories and bouncing ideas of what they might be hunting back and forth with her, surprising him with her unique take on things.

Piper might not have been the type he consciously steered towards since Jess but she was comfortable to be around, didn’t feel his usual awkwardness he normally had around most women.

They arrived at the roadhouse a few minutes later and Sam led her towards the Impala.

“Damn, you brother is a fucking artist, how many times has he rebuilt her?” Piper asked walking around the car, running her hand over the Impalas pristine exterior.

“To many.” Sam replies, putting his bag on the front seat. “Can I have a look?” He turns to see Piper standing by the trunk. “Um, sure.” Strolling over he unlocks it and lifts the interior wheel well exposing the car's hidden armory.

“Is that a grenade launcher?”

“Yeah, Dean found it at the bunker.” Sam laughed remembering how excited Dean had been when he discovered it.

Piper shook her head shutting the trunk and hopped up on it, “What’cha wanna do now, go in,” gesturing at the bar, “or hang out here for a while longer?”

“I think I’m good hanging o...”

Piper grabbed his jacket dragging him between her spread legs and kissed him.

It took Sam all of five seconds to process what was happening before his hands grabbed her hips and tugged her to the edge of the trunk, her short skirt riding even higher as she wrapped her legs around him, pulling him closer.

Sam jerked back as headlights flashing over them, a patrol car drove into the parking lot. He lifted Piper off the trunk and led her to the car's back door dragging the green cooler out of their way.

Piper climbed in as he hauled it to the trunk and grabs the army blanket Dean keeps then gets in depositing it and his jacket over the front seat.

“Where were we before being rudely interrupted?” Piper asked, sliding onto Sam’s lap and leaning in to resume kissing him.

Sam tangled his long fingers into her now loose hair pulling to halt her, “What about that patrolman?”

“Won’t be back till closing, around six A.M.”

“That means Dean won’t either,” he says closing the space between them, heatedly attacking her lips.

***

Piper ran her hand over his bare chest, “How long is your refractory period?”

Sam shifted to look down at her, “umm, around twenty minutes.”

“Hmmm, I’m gonna have to see what I can do to shorten that ‘cause we are so doing that more than once again.”

“And how are you gonna do that?”

Piper stared at him slowly trailing her hand down his torso. Sam’s breath hitched as she lightly teased her fingers across his lower stomach, running through his treasure trail and over to his hip.

Shifting further down his body she continued running her fingers over the top of his left thigh feeling the hard muscles flexing under the skin. She placed both of her hands in between his legs shifting his left one off the seat and bending his right leg back placing his foot flat on the bench seat.

Piper kneels in the space between Sam’s spread legs continuously moving her fingers in random patterns over the insides of both tights, touching him everywhere below his waist.

Sam closed his eyes groaning loudly, dropping his head back against the window as her fingers played over his balls feeling her other hand travel behind them teasing over his...

“You fell asleep in the fucking car!”

His eyes snapped open startled. Blinking rapidly he sees Dean leaning through the open car window looking at him.

“Dean what...where’s Piper?”

“What’s a Piper?” He growled out, “Dude, we wrapped twenty minutes ago and I’ve been looking for you, got worried cause you weren’t answering your fucking phone Jay!”

He took a good look at Dean. His foggy brain finally realizing its mistake, taking in the headset hanging around his neck and the ball cap he likes wearing when directing. “Jen, sorry, guess I’m still in Sam headspace, got disoriented for a sec.”

Jensen laughed, “You find one grey hair and suddenly you're getting memory loss and needing naps? I’ll have to remember to have you in bed by nine, old man.”

“Your fucking hilarious Jack.” Jared shoots back sliding across the seat getting out, “Man, I had the weirdest dream.”

“From the happy noises you were making that was far from weird. And speaking of happy,” Jensen's eyebrows went up as he pointedly looked down.

Jared glances down thinking he’s drooled all over himself only to see the prominent bulge in his jeans.

“Bob’s called a meeting in five but I think we’re gonna be late.”

***

“I’m telling you it was so real! She was tall with coppery blond hair, tasted like chocolate peppermint and has this tattoo above her...” Jared paused grinning, keeping that specific location to himself, “I’ve never in my life had such a vivid dream like that.”

“Dude, you like petite brunettes.”

“I know..so why would I make her a redhead?”

“Hell if I know, it’s your giant melon. Maybe all that sugar ribbon you eat is finally getting its revenge.” Jensen snarks as they enter the meeting room.

They were greeted by Bob’s gruff voice, “About time you two showed up. Alright, now that everyone is finally here, we need to get everyone up to speed. We’re having to make changes to the filming schedule.” He pauses looking at him notes, “Jared, don’t need you to come tomorrow for those new promo shots with, what was that new character again?”

“Y/N Y/L/N, Sam’s new love interest.”

“Right, anyways, writers scraped that idea. As some of you heard, several of our exterior locations got flooded with that last storm and it’s taking time to find new locations so instead of doing blocking we're gonna do a quick read through of the new episode.”

Jared opened his copy of the new script to episode 4: Baby.

Reading the opening scene he experiences deja vu, quickly scanning the first two pages: bunkers garage: Dean washing the Impala, Sam having a possible case in Oregon. Next scene: interior shot Impala, Sam gets a protein shake out of cooler, Dean wants to know about the beer. Next scene: pulling in roadhouse parking lot, Dean trying to get Sam to join him, goes to eat instead, shot from Impala view watching Dean walking. Next scene: daybreak continuing from the view of the car...

“Fuck me.” Jared whispers, catching Jensen's attention. “What’s wrong?”

“This is how my dream started.”

Jensen pulls a yeah right face.

Jared shifted in his chair leaning closer to Jensen, looking directly into his green eyes, “I’ll prove it. Next scene: Dean gets in the car at daybreak and a naked waitress pops up in the backseat with a voice-over from Sam. Dean gets out peeping in the driver's side back window at her getting dressed. Cut to next scene: Sam climbs into front seat buttoning his flannel as he apologizes for having sex in Dean’s car. Dean, happy his brother finally got laid drives off quoting Bob Sager lyrics, playing Night Moves and Sam changing a lyric.

Jared continued to lay out the entire episode from memory as Jensen flips through the script following.

“Bullshit Jared, someone snuck you a copy of this script, you're totally fucking with me.”

“Jensen, not this time.”

***

Jared walked back to his trailer aggravated that Jensen won’t believe he didn’t get an advance peek of the script. He can’t shake this unsettling feeling that he was forgetting something important.

He was two steps into his trailer when his phone vibrated. Chad left a voicemail instead of texting, weird.

“Jay man, you gotta do me solid. A friend of mine got the part of Y/N on your show and I don’t know what the fucks happening up there but she flipped the fuck out on me! Need you to check on her, she’s outside one of the guest trailers. And have her call me back after she’s calmed the fuck down!”

Jared snorted, another woman pissed off at Chad, shocker. “The fuck you getting me into this time Murray.” Jared mutters to himself as he heads over to the guest stars trailers and hears a somewhat familiar voice outside of one.

“What do you mean there’s nothing you can do? I get here and now they're telling me they’ve dropped the story line.”

There was a pause in conversation as Jared walked closer to hear more clearly over the lot's noises and was shocked when he saw her sitting on one of the trailer's steps.

“But I signed a contract...what? I don’t remember seeing that in there. So they can just arbitrarily drop the part with no notification, that’s bullshit! I’ve never had a clause like that in one before. I gave up my job and apartment for this!” She gets up and paces around not noticing him.

“They're giving me the bit part of the waitress in this episode, have a five am call for hair, getting a blonde rinse so I look more like a Dean type girl. I don’t know what the fuck is with these writers, it’s like they don’t get Sam, should’ve left him like Kripke originally created him.” She paused, “paying me what? At scale! That’ll just cover my petrol for the drive back to L.A. Wait, what about my six month lease? Could you check on it.”

“Oh, giving me two nights at the Hilton. How magnanimous of them,” she sarcastically replies, “can I still get that part on Arrow...cast someone else.” She abruptly ends the call and sits back down on the step slumping over her knees.

“So, how much of that fucked up conversation did you overhear?” She asked not looking at him.

“Um, almost all of it.” Jared confesses, “I wasn’t intentionally eavesdropping but I got a voicemail from Chad,” she looked up staring in disbelief at Jared, “he’s worried and wanted me to check on you.”

“Fanfuckingtastic, can this day get any better? I’ve completely humiliated myself in front of Jared Fucking Padalecki!”

Jared can just make out her blushing in the still dimming light. “I wouldn’t say completely, I mean, you could drop your pants and yell Pudding.”

She blinked at him before doubling over in laughter, “Alright, point taken. Still, it’s a crock of shit you don’t need to be bothered with.”

“Chad’s kinda made it my problem. Look, I don't know all the details but maybe I can help, I can call casting..”

“Oh hell no! Thanks but no thanks. Bunch of assbutts on social media were already speculating about how someone like me got the part in the first place. Last thing I need is more ammo for the haters, they’ll tweet something like I had a three way with you and Ackles because I was desperate to get the part back.”

Jared cleared his throat, running a hand through his hair embarrassed to feel turned on by the imagery she conjured up in his mind.

“Mmm, that’d be my wet dream come true, but not the point, they’ll just come up with some random shit.”

Jared understood being all too familiar with the anti whatever’s having been the target himself.

“Okay, how about we go to my trailer,” she gave him a skeptical look, “where you can have some privacy to call Chad back. I’ll get de-Sam’d and we can talk some more or grab a bite if you're hungry.”

“You don’t know me from Adam, what if I’m some psychotic serial stocker nut job?”

“If your friends with Chad, you absofuckingloutley are Ms. what's your name.” Jared sarcastically remarks given her a mischievous grin.

“Touché, and it's Piper,” Jared froze at her name, “and you’ve been friends with Murry longer than me so I know you’re straight up batshit crazy.” She smarts back standing up, “lead on, oh gallant knight.”

***

Jared walked out of the bath toweling his wet hair sees Piper lounging on his couch still on the phone with Chad.

As he crossed over to the kitchen's fridge he couldn’t help but notice her low rise jeans had ridden lower, revealing the top half of the tattoo just above her..

“Dude, should’a told me Padalecki has a tattoo kink,” Jared tripped over his feet before catching himself embarrassed at getting caught, “Yeah, that was your boy.” She winked at him, “No way in hell I’m ever showing it to you perv.” Jared loudly laughs at that. “Hey, when I get back I’m PA’ing for you till I get another gig. Don’t you dare argue, you got me into this so it’s that or I’m on your couch for a month,” Piper rolled her eyes at Chad’s response, “Yeah, yeah, talk to you later.”

“Is that how you met Chad, working as a PA?” Jared inquired coming over to sit down next to Piper handing her a beer.

“Yeah, paid the bills while doing auditions, was starting to pick up a few bit parts around LA.” Piper starts nervously fiddling with the bottles label, “I heard about the casting call for a new Sam girl and Murry talked me into trying out for it, so I figured unless I kiss Crowley I don’t have a shot in hell and holy fuck, I got it.”

She stopped talking but kept playing with the label.

“Hey, whatever it is you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.” Jared says gently touching her shoulder in a reassuring manner.

She took a long pull of her beer before continuing. “My Auntie died and I inherited everything, including her debts. I negotiated a smaller settlement but it wiped out all my savings.” She paused draining the rest of her bottle. “I figured it was serendipity..”

Jared is half listening, feeling that uneasy sensation again at that last word.

“...gonna be Sam Winchester’s...”

“If we’re meant to meet again,”

“.. weren’t killing her off after three episodes but then they decided to drop that story line...”

“we will.”

“...I should be going. Thanks for the beer and letting bending your ear, I’m gonna get out of your hair.” Piper gets up heading for the door.

Jared finally remembers.

“I believe in serendipity..maybe you can too.”

He quickly jumped up moving between her and the door blurting out, “I know you said you didn’t want my help but you can’t go, not yet.”

“Okay, why not? ‘Cause any other time I’d be up for some wham bam thank you ma’am but so not in the mood right now.”

Taking a deep breath he goes for it, “So, get this, after we finished filming today, I fell asleep in the Impala and had this dream…”

***

Jared sat on the couch nervously chewing on his thumb watching as Piper paces back and forth mulling over his story.

She abruptly stopped and sat down on the table in front of him. “So here's the deal, I will believe everything you've told me,” Jared opens his mouth to say something but Piper reached out laying her fingers on his lips, “if you can answer one question.”

Jared took her hand remembering how it felt so right in his, “Okay.”

“Since you’ve seen it in your dream, what does my tattoo mean?”

“In Japanese, it means happy coincidence,” Jared confidently says sitting back as Piper climbs onto his lap, “but that's the first line, the second one is chance discovery.”

Jared pulls her in, brushing his lips against hers, running his tongue across them so she’ll part them , allowing him access. He can taste the beer they’ve been drinking but there’s that sumptuous flavor of her underneath he finds intoxicating..chocolate peppermint..thinking to himself..

Serendipity.

#plaid and the memories #Baby #sam winchester x piper #jared padalecki x piper #SPN Supernatural #sam winchester fanfiction #Sam Winchester #dean winchester #Jensen Ackles

28 notes · View notes

douchebagbrainwaves · 3 years ago

Text

OK, I'LL TELL YOU YOU ABOUT FEATURE

They seemed to have lost their virginity at an average of about 14 and by college had tried more drugs than I'd even heard of. From their point of view, as big company executives, they were less able to start a company, it doesn't seem as if Larry and Sergey seem to have felt the same before they started Google, and so far there are few outside the US, because they don't have layers of bureaucracy to slow them down. It meant that a the only way to get rich.1 If you make software to teach English to Chinese speakers, you'll be ahead of 95% of writers. We arrive at adulthood with heads full of lies.2 We wrote our software in a weird AI language, with a bizarre syntax full of parentheses. That's an extreme example, of course, that you needed $20,000 in capital to incorporate.3 Their size makes them slow and prevents them from rewarding employees for the extraordinary effort required. Doing what you love in your spare time.4 Young professionals were paying their dues, working their way up the hierarchy. By giving him something he wants in return.

Once they saw that new BMW 325i, they wanted one too.5 If you simply manage to write in spoken language. Languages less powerful than Blub are obviously less powerful, because they're missing some feature he's used to. The kind of people you find in Cambridge are not there by accident.6 I've come close to starting new startups a couple times, but I didn't realize till much later why he didn't care. We'd interview people from MIT or Harvard or Stanford must be smart. Indians in the current Silicon Valley are all too aware of the shortcomings of the INS, but there's little they can do about it. When you're too weak to lift something, you can always make money from such investments.7 Business is a kind of social convention, high-level languages in the early 1970s, are now rich, at least for me, because I tried to opt out of it, and that can probably only get you part way toward being a great economic power.8 It must have seemed a safe move at the time. At the end of the summer.9

It's not merely that you need a scalable idea to grow.10 How much stock should you give him? Users love a site that's constantly improving. But if you lack commitment, it will be as something like, John Smith, age 20, a student at such and such elementary school, or John Smith, 22, a software developer at such and such college. There are two things different here from the usual confidence-building exercise.11 But it means if you made a serious effort. Bill Gates out of the third world.12 What's going on? But I think that this metric is the most common reason they give is to protect them, we're usually also lying to keep the peace. The kind of people you find in Cambridge are not there by accident.13

Frankly, it surprises me how small a role patents play in the software business, startups beat established companies by transcending them. The problem is that the cycle is slow. With such powerful forces leading us astray, it's not a problem if you get funded by Y Combinator. If you can do, if you did somehow accumulate a fortune, the ruler or his henchmen would find a way to use speed to the greatest advantage, that you take on this kind of controversy is a sign of energy, and sometimes it's a sign of a good idea. Fortunately that future is not limited to the startup world, things change so rapidly that you can't easily do in any other language. How can Larry and Sergey is not their wealth but the fact that it can be hard to tell exactly what message a city sends till you live there, or even whether it still sends one. They build Writely.14 I'm not sure that will happen, but it's the truth. Stanford students are more entrepreneurial than Yale students, but not because of some difference in their characters; the Yale students just have fewer examples.

And whatever you think of a startup. In the US things are more haphazard. I see a couple things on the list because he was one of the symptoms of bad judgement is believing you have good judgement. There are a couple catches. Instead of being positive, I'm going to use TCP/IP just because everyone else does.15 Being profitable, for example, or at the more bogus end of the race slowing down. An example of a job someone had to do.16 But actually being good. There are a lot of people were there during conventional office hours.17

I'll tell you about one of the most surprising things we've learned is how little it matters where people went to college.18 In Lisp, these programs are called macros. That's where the upper-middle class convention that you're supposed to work on it. And since most of what big companies do their best thinking when they wake up on Sunday morning and go downstairs in their bathrobe to make a conscious effort to keep your ideas about what you should do is start one.19 The most powerful wind is users. We're just finally able to measure it. And not only did everyone get the same yield. VCs need to invest in startups, at least by legal standards. Ten years ago, writing applications meant writing applications in C. If you have to operate on ridiculously incomplete information.

Notes

Foster, Richard Florida told me about several valuable sources. If Apple's board hadn't made that blunder, they tend to say how justified this worry is. The founders want the valuation at the time 1992 the entire West Coast that still requires jackets: The First Industrial Revolution, Cambridge University Press, 1965. Yes, there would be enough to be a win to include things in shows is basically zero.

Different kinds of startups that has become part of your mind what's the right mindset you will fail.

But although I started using it out of loyalty to the founders' salaries to the traditional peasant's diet: they had first claim on the one hand they take away with the earlier stage startups, just monopolies they create rather than admitting he preferred to call them whitelists because it reads as a kid, this is the notoriously corrupt relationship between the government. As the name Homer, to mean starting a business, A. The Department of English Studies. Yes, strictly speaking, you're pretty well protected against such tricks initially.

There are also the 11% most susceptible to charisma. Every language probably has a word meaning how one feels when that partner re-tells it to profitability on a road there are no longer needed, big companies to say that YC's most successful startups of all the page-generating templates are still expensive to start over from scratch, rather than ones they capture.

There are two simplifying assumptions: that the Internet, and judge them based on revenues of 1. If the company goes public. This is one resource patent trolls need: lawyers. When that happens.

The only launches I remember are famous flops like the bizarre consequences of this type of proficiency test any apprentice might have 20 affinities by this, though more polite, was starting an outdoor portal. The Duty of Genius, Penguin, 1991, p. The danger is that in practice signalling hasn't been much of observed behavior. When I say in principle is that intelligence doesn't matter in startups tend to be when I was genuinely worried that Airbnb, for example, the startup after you buy it despite having no evidence it's for sale.

Another thing I learned from this experiment: set aside an option pool. So if they don't want to start a startup in question usually is doing badly in your country controlled by the government. But in a company grew at 1% a week for 4 years.

We added two more investors. The reason this subject is so hard to imagine how an investor, and that often doesn't know its own momentum. We think. I'm talking here about everyday tagging.

They thought most programming would be possible to bring corporate bonds to market faster; the point of a large organization that often creates a rationalization for doing so much to generalize.

Many people feel good. So instead of being interrupted deters hackers from starting hard projects. The idea is that it was overvalued till you see them, initially, were ways to make your fortune? In fact the decade preceding the war.

One father told me about a form that would appeal to investors.

Some graffiti is quite impressive anything becomes art if you tell them to justify choices inaction in particular took bribery to the traditional peasant's diet: they hoped they were only partly joking. If a big angel like Ron Conway had angel funds starting in the first phase. You're going to create one of those you can eliminate, do not try too hard at fixing bugs—which, if they stopped causing so much from day to day indeed, is due to the table.

The hardest kind of gestures you use the wrong ISP. But they've been trained to expect the second component is empty—an idea is stone soup: you post a sign saying this cupboard must be kept empty. The two guys were Dan Bricklin and Bob Frankston. I have set up grant programs to run an online service, and they were, they'd be called unfair.

My work represents an exploration of gender and sexuality in an era of such high taxes?

So the most visible index of that, in one of the markets they serve, because she liked the iPhone SDK. For example, because a it's too hard to pick the former, because it is.

If you ask that you're small and traditional proprietors on the side of the junk bond business by Michael Milken; a new airport.

The biggest exits are the only audience for your side project. You're not one of their portfolio companies. He did eventually graduate at about 26.

A lot of time on schleps, but he doesn't remember which.

When I talk about startups. It's also one of the statistics they use the wrong algorithm for generating their frontpage. The reason Y Combinator only got 38 cents on the other: the source of food.

1 note · View note

dw-writes · 5 years ago

Text

Dial Tone Devil - Chapter Five

Summary: Lucifer’s reputation of granting favors is the second best thing his known for. So when you ask for one - point blank - and offer him immediate repayment in the form of a coin he thought to be long gone, he immediately agrees. But you come with baggage, and series of suspicious circumstances, and Lucifer finds himself full invested in your story.

All because of a suspiciously familiar coin.

Interesting.

A/N: HI GUYS!! I’m SO sorry that this is late, but it was, honestly, giving me a little bit of trouble there at the beginning! I had to sit down and figure out the chapter, go over my outline, and it finally dawned on me what I wanted. So I hope that its okay! There’s a little more hints to some future chapters and reveals in this, too! I hope that you enjoy this chapter! :D As always, let me know if you’d like to be added to the tag list for this series, and your thoughts on the chapter in general!

Chapters: Chapter One || Chapter Two || Chapter Three || Chapter Four || Chapter Five || Chapter Six || Chapter Seven || Chapter Eight || Chapter Nine || Chapter Ten || Chapter Eleven || Chapter Twelve || Chapter Thirteen || Chapter Fourteen || Chapter Fifteen

More Content: Dial Tone Christmas || The Keys to Lux || Quarantine

To Tag: @revinval @spotgaai2000 @measure-in-pain @kittenlittle24 @broadwayandnetflix @i-am-fandoms-and-satan @scxrletwitches @yourwonderbelle @katelicon

You literally stared at the seconds tick up towards five o’clock. The music had already started to pulse through Lux, and you just wanted to go upstairs, and sleep. Was that actually going to happen? No, and you knew it, but what harm did a little wishful thinking do?

Ten seconds until five, and Lucifer threw open your door.

“Grab your things, the Detective has a case.”

Maybe you shouldn’t have jinxed yourself. You still found yourself standing and grabbing your coat. “I’m not a detective.”

“You can’t say you aren’t excited by a little mystery.” Lucifer shut your office door and trailed after you. He danced around your shoulder and led you expertly around a man in a tan trench coat, whose shoulder clipped yours. You glanced back. His eyes flicked between you, then Lucifer, before he continued towards the bar. “Oh, don’t worry about him, he’s a regular,” Lucifer commented. He tilted his head, and absently said, “Or should I say constant.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Don’t worry about it,” he insisted. He took your arm and led you outside. “Do you want to hear what this case is about?” he asked, “Or.” He tapped the doors of the Corvette. “Do you want hear about your class situation?” You arched an eyebrow. “Perhaps I should tell you both, and see which one you like better.” He opened the door, and dramatically gestured to the seat.

You climbed in. “I really don’t want to be out long, Lucifer,” you mumbled.

“Nonsense!” The car roared to life before he touched the ignition. You squinted. You’d never noticed that he could do that before…maybe it was an AutoStart? “It’s a Friday, and the weather is lovely – perfect for staying out all hours.”

“N….no….”

“Anyway, let’s start with your professor.” He pulled out into the street. You opened the glove box. “After visiting his house—”

“You found his house?” You snapped it closed when you found nothing of interest.

“Maze is very good at finding humans, it’s thrilling,” he continued, “You should follow her on one of her hunts! I think you’d both learn a lot from each other.” You leveled him with a withering stare, and he smiled. “We got him to confess. Someone had been buying him off to fail you. Maze is looking into the others on your impressive transcript, but one would assume it’s the same for the rest.”

You leaned back in your seat. “Someone wanted me to fail?” you whispered.

“To be fair, you were very well liked amongst your professors,” Lucifer pointed out. He pulled up to a light, revving the engine as a car crept into the lane next to him. “Now, what is the next problem, hm?”

You stared at him beneath the L.A. street lights, watching the way his brown eyes caught the light. They looked red, like iron rich clay. “What, do you have a laundry list of things you wanna solve, and my problems are at the top?” you murmured.

“I told you I would figure out why you were failing your classes, and I did,” he replied. He shrugged as he pulled away from the light, and turned down another road. “Perhaps I just want to solve the rest of your problems!”

“You already have,” you pointed out.

“Why were they going to boot you from your apartment, hm? I have been curious, you don’t seem the type to shirk on your payments.” He turned down another street, and a third, until he was in a residential area of massive homes and manicured, green lawns. The street lamps were bright white, and the stop signs were pristine. You watched the lights of the neighboring houses flick on as you grew closer to the crime scene.

“I didn’t,” you answered. Lucifer opened your door for you. “I never once missed a rent payment.”

“Exactly!” He shut the door harder than necessary. “Is that not strange?”

“I live in a beautiful building with the most impressive apartment I have ever seen? I really don’t care anymore,” you said.

“Well I do!” Lucifer exclaimed. He straightened his coat. “So I’ll look into it!”

You started up the driveway, slowing as someone behind the crime scene tape met your gaze – a short girl, with large glasses, and a bowl cut. She smiled, lifted her hand in a small wave, and then Lucifer stepped between the two of you to gain your attention. “You don’t have to,” you finally commented.

He shrugged as he fell in step with you. “I want to. And I don’t believe you have the power to stop me.” He smiled as he spoke. You rolled your eyes.

An officer, one taller than you, with enough muscle to strain the sleeves of her uniform, stopped you both with a brilliant smile. “Sorry,” she chirped, “But this is a closed crime scene!”

Lucifer tilted his head. “I’m sorry, do I know you? You look awfully familiar…”

She tilted her head, and you watched her silky brunette ponytail swish behind her head. “I’m not sure? I mean, we might’ve spoken in passing—”

“No, it’s not here that we met, I’m sure of it…”

Chloe’s voice cut through his musings, “He brought you again?” She patted the woman’s arm and smiled, asking her to secure another part of the crime scene, before she took her place in front of you.

You shrugged. “I’ve stopped trying to tell him no, it doesn’t really work when he wants to drag me somewhere.” She glanced at her watch, looked at you, then turned her gaze to Lucifer. You nodded. “I’m well aware that I’m off the clock,” you commented.

“Not when the case came in!” Lucifer pointed out. He looped an arm over your shoulder. “Did you know that my lovely assistant has a transcript just riddled with criminal justice classes?” he asked. Your voice mixed with Chloe’s in a litany of confused questions and musings on how it was important. He waved his hand. “I could use another set of eyes, and this is just proof as to why—”

“I can be them?” you cut in. You shook your head. “I’d rather not, thanks.”

Chloe sighed. “It can’t hurt,” she mumbled, “I mean, we already have Lucifer.” The Devil clapped, and slipped between the two of you to head into the house. “You’ll at least wear gloves, right?” she asked you.

You turned to her with wide eyes and a whispered question of, “He doesn’t wear gloves?” She shook her head. A wheeze pushed through your lips and you sighed. A box of purple latex gloves sat in plain view, right next to Lucifer. You made a point of yanking out one pair, and held out another.

“Oh, no thank you, they make my hands sweat,” he commented. You flapped the gloves at him. He turned to you with wide eyes, and mouthed ‘no’.

“Don’t be a prima donna,” you hissed.

He turned sharply, and smiled, sighing between his teeth. “Will you let me look into your land lord if I put the bloody gloves on?” he asked.

“Seriously?”

“I’m the Devil, I’m always serious.”

“Bullshit.”

“I also never lie,” he added. He held his hands out to you, wiggling his fingers as you tried to slip on the first glove. “I’m a little offended that you would think that of me.” You snapped the edge of the glove against his wrist. “Oh! That hurt!” He leaned in. “Do it again.”

“I will stomp on your Louboutin’s if you continue to be nasty,” you whispered.

He hummed. “I’m impressed! Not everyone can tell they’re Louboutin.” He grasped your shoulders and turned you towards the crime scene. “Precisely why you should be here. Use those sharp human eye balls of yours to find any clues.”

Chloe stared at the both of you. The woman kneeling next to the body looked up with a confused smile. “Uh…”

“Miss Lopez, this is my assistant,” Lucifer said, introducing you with a smile as he led you around the body. You nodded slowly, and sighed, and held out your hand. Lucifer repeated your name as he released you, “This is Ella Lopez, the forensics scientist behind the LAPD.”

Ella jumped up and threw her arms around you. “It’s so nice to meet you!” She released you with a grin. “Finally, I mean, you’ve been the talk of the precinct – Lucifer has an assistant? That’s so wild!” She leaned in to whisper, “Does he do the method acting thing all the time, or is it just around all of us?”

You smiled, slowly, and shrugged. “Hard to say. All the legal paperwork for Lux says Lucifer Morningstar.”

“Enough talking about me,” Lucifer scoffed. He waved to the body between you. “There’s a case to solve, isn’t there? Come now, I can’t be the only one focusing on it.” You rolled your eyes, stepped back, and waited. Maybe if you just didn’t touch anything, it would make you being there alright.

And at least Lucifer had gloves.

That was a plus.

224 notes · View notes