#Door Interlocking System

[posh--bee]

i'm losing it (all i get is jealousy, jealousy) || Aaron Hotchner

pairing → Aaron Hotchner x Reader

summary → You're out on a Friday night, sitting around a table in a cozy bar, enjoying your fruity drink and the presence of your newfound friends in the form of your father's team. But then Derek just has to open his mouth and ruin your night when he mentions her.

warnings → fem!reader, rossi!reader, reader has rossi's last name, (unspecified) age gap, reader being pretty self-deprecating here oopsieee (anxiety, keep on tryin' me…), Spencer and Beth mentioned as romantic interests for reader and Aaron, jealousy jealousy~, misunderstandings, they're still head over heels for each other, but don't talk about it, Spencer being an absolute sweetheart, no y/n used

author's note → This part started out as a kind of prelude to my actual idea for part 2—the gala. But then this scene just developed a life of its own and I decided to just make the cut to really be able to focus on the gala in the next part. A huge thank you to everyone who read, liked, reblogged and commented on the first part!! 💕 I appreciate each and every single interaction so much and it's such a huge motivation to keep me writing because I simply cannot operate on internal motivation alone. That being said, I had so much fun writing this part so let me know what you think about it!^^ I hope you like it <3 (Title, obviously, from "jealousy, jealousy" by Olivia Rodrigo.)

word count → 4.6k

masterlist(s)

series masterlist || part 1 - ⋆part 2⋆ - part 3 coming soon-ish :3

It's a busy Friday night in November for the little bar tucked away in a corner of the city's Downtown district, the bell above the front door tinkling gently every other minute as people exit and enter the cozy but slightly stuffy establishment.

The soft sound of the melting ice cubes clinking against the glass of your drink is almost drowned out by the buzzing atmosphere of the bar as you absentmindedly stir the watered-down remainder of your once fruity and colorful cocktail. You hear the sound of car tires rolling over the wet pavement outside as the door opens again and it seamlessly blends with the ambiance of the bar—music playing over ancient speakers hidden in the corners of the room, people talking and laughing loudly, cheerfully, glasses clinking faintly and chairs scraping over the already worn floor.

Your cheeks are not only warm and glowing from the temperature inside the bar, bravely fighting off the chill from beyond the old brick walls, but also from the alcohol in your system that makes you feel pleasantly buzzed and relaxed. You make yourself even more comfortable on the—admittedly pretty hard and bum-numbing—bench you're sitting on, accidentally nudging Emily next to you who immediately retaliates by playfully shoving you back, a huge grin on her face.

You stick your tongue out at her, giggling at the betrayed face she makes as her hands fly up to her heart—but the rest of her dramatic display is immediately lost on you when you catch sight of Aaron from across the table, listening to something Spencer is animatedly explaining to him, and your stomach does a lovesick little flip.

Tonight, instead of his usual suits and button-downs he's dressed in a black polo shirt and a pair of dark blue jeans, and when he walked through the bar's door earlier this evening you spontaneously forgot how to breathe. It's embarrassing how something as simple as casual clothes can make your heart stutter in your chest when it comes to him, but you can't help it. Especially when his strong arms usually hidden by long-sleeved shirts and suit jackets are shamelessly on display for your viewing pleasure, his forearms casually resting on the table with his fingers interlocked loosely, drawing your eyes to them like a desperate moth to a forbidden flame.

The dim light of the bar only accentuates his handsome and sharp features, the smile lines at the corners of his mouth and the crow's feet around his eyes a beautiful constant of his face at the moment. If you're not careful you could probably drown in the gentle warmth of his brown irises.

Of course, as it was bound to happen eventually, Aaron catches you staring at him so openly, his kind eyes suddenly locked with your startled ones and you quickly duck your head in mortification, heat crawling up your neck, your cheeks and ears already on fire.

It's been four months since the pool incident, the I almost kissed my father's friend and boss I only just met after making him fall in the pool with me incident, and since then these completely inconvenient and utterly inappropriate feelings you caught for Aaron that very day haunt you relentlessly, persistently, only getting stronger with each and every time you see him again.

You cringe inwardly, the whole day burned into your mind forever, the memory of it all still painfully vivid, especially of your inexcusable and humiliating behavior, and the urge to just slip underneath the table and hide there until the end of time gets overwhelming for a moment. You hope your face doesn't show the embarrassment and regret welling up inside of you as the memories from that day replay in your mind for the millionth time, as if you didn't already spend these last few months obsessing over what had happened—dissecting every single word spoken between the two of you, analyzing and weighing even the slightest change of Aaron's expressions and tone until it's the middle of the night and you're half delirious with the lack of sleep.

You're not sure what your overthinking mind tries to archive with this, except torture you during your waking hours and curse you with anxious insomnia at nighttime, making you embarrass yourself in front of Aaron again and again whenever you see him now, stumbling over your words and acting like a lovesick school girl with a cute but laughable little crush.

It would be almost adorable if it weren't so ridiculously sad.

Because, in the end, all you'll ever be to him is that—his friend's daughter who caught completely inappropriate feelings for him and doesn't know how to deal with them like an adult.

You're too young for him, too inexperienced, too immature. Anxious and naive, plain and uninteresting, book-smart at best with no experience of how the real world actually works.

Spoiled and never had to work for all the nice and expensive things in life that you experience and own, not with a father as well off as yours.

Your doctorate a pretty little achievement to show off now and then but amounting to nothing in the grand scheme of things, in the world outside your fancy lab and brilliantly white lab coat. You hide behind your microscopes day in, day out, behind your Petri dishes and test tubes, behind your statistics and test results, comfortably able to overlook the fact that in the end, you're dealing with death, the oftentimes brutal loss of human life—the life of a real person—while there are people like Aaron and your father and the rest of their team out there, risking their lives, their mental well-being to bring peace to the bereaved, haunting these monsters that stole the rest of their entire lives from their victims. These agents work tirelessly, traveling all over the country at a moment's notice, spending their days and nights away from home solving cases no one else but them could, one more dangerous and complex than the next, and not stopping before they do, without complaining, without expecting anything in return.

But you? You simply come home after a day of work to your cozy and spacious apartment that you only found and are able to afford because of your father, slipping on mismatched fuzzy socks and a shirt and pajama pants whose patterns clash mercilessly, eating frozen pre-made meals or take-out food more often than not while turning off your brain in front of the TV or your laptop screen, drinking the expensive wine your dad bought out of mugs because your dishwasher is broken and you didn't have the energy to wash the dishes for multiple days in a row.

It's painfully obvious that Aaron and you live in completely different worlds, your lives ridiculously incompatible, so it doesn't come as a surprise that all your overthinking and obsessing and dissecting only ever leads to one final conclusion—

You will never be good enough for Aaron Hotchner.

As much as it hurts to admit this, your heart clenches painfully whenever you have to remind yourself of this inescapable fact—when the wishful thinking and the juvenile daydreaming become a little too self-indulgent—you know it's the truth.

And the sooner you and your hopelessly romantic little heart can make peace with it the better. Because whatever you thought he saw in you or felt for you that perfect summer day was only an illusion, a trick your overactive mind played on you so cruelly. Someone like Aaron Hotchner could never reciprocate your silly feelings for him, the spark you imagined igniting between the two of you back then was merely a sad one-sided, and completely inappropriate infatuation. You probably didn't look entirely unappealing in your skimpy little bikini that clung to your wet and glowing skin, leaving almost nothing to the imagination, so at least you didn't make up everything you thought happened that day, the brief flicker of attraction in his eyes as they roamed over your naked skin flattering and enough to send your heart into a frenzy, but ultimately meaningless, an involuntary and wholly physical reaction of his. And you know better than to let it go to your head; your reflection—plain and boring and strikingly average—setting you right when it pointedly stares back at you in the mirror as you study it on any normal day.

It really comes as no surprise then that after the whole pool incident, Aaron kept a deliberate distance from you whenever the two of you would meet afterwards, still smiling at you cordially, asking about your new job, your new apartment, your research, but never talking to you on your own, only ever when other people are part of the conversation too. And you're not delusional enough to not be aware of the fact that he's simply entertaining you out of politeness, a courtesy he's only showing you because you're the daughter of a friend.

Anxiety presses heavily against your chest when you think about how uncomfortable you must make him with your poorly hidden infatuation for him, how painful it must be for him to see you act like a pathetic fool in front of him, and all of a sudden your heart is thudding painfully against your ribcage, your pulse ringing in your ears, your breath leaving you in short little gasps—

"Hey, are you okay?"

Your eyes snap up to meet Spencer's kind ones, slightly widened with worry, but not like you expected from across the table where he sat when you last looked up. Instead, he's beside you, sliding next to you onto the bench, his face twisted into a frown and his brown eyes searching yours intensely. For a long moment, all you can do is stare back at him, wondering, with burning ears, just how long you spaced out for.

"Do you need to go outside for a moment? I could go with you if you want."

His words effortlessly pull you out of your anxious spiral and after briefly and earnestly considering his offer you shake your head, exhaling a shaky breath that thankfully eases some of the thightness in your chest.

You flash him a grateful little smile before answering, "No, it's okay. Thank you, though."

You unlatch your stiff and cold fingers from where they are still gripping your cocktail glass like a lifeline, wiping off the condensation that's left behind on your palms on your jeans. "My mind just… went a little crazy there for a moment, you know?"

The silly jazz hands that accompany your explanation catch Spencer off guard and he lets out a spluttered laugh that makes you grin in return. You feel yourself relax further just by having him sit beside you, and even more so when he regains enough composure to softly tell you, "I get it. Just take your time."

You're glad the others are all too absorbed in their own conversations as you glance around the table. It allows you to simply concentrate on taking calm and deep breaths as you listen to Spencer launch into a detailed analysis of the last episode of Doctor Who he watched, his expressive hands a worthy rival of your jazz hands.

(Too absorbed by all of this, you don't notice how Aaron is watching you and Spencer from across the table with narrowed eyes, or how Garcia urgently and repeatedly slaps Morgan's arm who's sitting next to her, gleefully nodding her head in the direction of the two of you, not even trying to be subtle about showing off her delightful discovery, or the slow smirk forming on the other man's lips at the incredibly intimate sight of you and your fellow young doctor completely absorbed by your own little nerdy conversation.)

With Spencer jumping from topic to topic, one more fascinating but obscure than the previous, your heart rate slowly lowers from the level of a prey animal being hunted for sport to that of the young woman enjoying a carefree Friday night with a group of friends that you are, happily piping up with your own contributions and fun facts when the genius next to you runs out of air during his endearing ramblings.

When you first moved back to DC after finishing your doctorate you were nauseous with nerves about meeting new people and making friends, worried that you would spend every weekend at your father's place, sipping his fancy wine from a glass while perched on the cold marble of his kitchen countertops, just watching him cook an elaborate dinner from his mother's collection of family recipes, asking if he wants any help with it and being pointedly reminded of what happened last time you were in his kitchen unsupervised. That's not to say that you don't love spending time with your dad—because you really, really do and you're more than happy to be living in the same city as him again, to be able to just hop into your car and drive to his house (sorry, mansion) whenever you feel like seeing him—but you would prefer if your entire social life didn't only revolve around him and your new place of work.

But when your father introduced you to his team during a dinner he hosted and you were immediately integrated into their little work family, every single one of them talking to you like they've known you for years—which it probably feels like to them considering how much your dad talks (brags) about you and your achievements—you felt silly about wasting so much time worrying about nothing at all. Not when there were all these wonderful people just eagerly waiting to meet and get to know you in person. You've never received such a warm and heartfelt welcome ever before in your life and for a few minutes you even completely forgot to agonize over the fact that during that dinner you were also seeing Aaron again for the first time since you fell for him—after literally making him fall in the pool with you.

And now, some months later, summer is only a faint memory anymore and even autumn slowly but surely making way for winter, the team happily invited you to their little end-of-another-crazy-week-catching-serial-killers get-together just like you've always been part of their group—and despite your father not even being with you at the moment.

(Because dear ol' dad ditched you in favor of a reservation at some fancy and exclusive restaurant uptown where he's currently busy working on stepmom number 3—or was it 4?)

(Honestly? You lost count.)

(You didn't. You just love to tease him with it.)

You glance around the table, looking at the happy faces of these wonderful people you're privileged to call your friends, a content smile forming on your face and a pleasantly warm feeling blooming at the very center of your chest. You can't believe how lucky you are to have been welcomed into their tight-knit group readily and with open arms, making uprooting the only life that you've known for the past ten years to move halfway across the country to a city you're not familiar with anymore so much less daunting, helping you to settle in immediately by inviting you to literally anything that they do outside of work.

(Aaron being an integral part of the group makes these casual and carefree meetups decidedly not as casual and carefree for you as you'd like, constantly putting your foot in your mouth around him or figuratively (and sometimes even literally) curling up into a pathetic ball of anxiety when he so much as looks at you. But you're working on that, you really are, learning to come to terms with your unrequited feelings for him which is not exactly going great—if tonight is any indicator of that—but eventually, you'll be able to act like the totally well-adjusted young woman you aspire to be around him.)

(… at least you hope you do.)

You're especially grateful to have met Spencer through the BAU team because if any person out there can be described as your platonic soulmate, it's him. In just four months the young genius has become one of the best friends you've ever made in your life—the two of you just immediately clicking after he refused to shake your hand when your father introduced you to him. You're close in age and if your passionate involvement in academics didn't make you connect instantly your shared interest in everything nerdy and niche definitely did.

You're even more grateful to have him by your side whenever you're confronted with your walking kryptonite that is Aaron Hotchner. You can count on Spencer to sense whenever you get too lost in your own head and to always bring you back to reality, even though he doesn't know that his boss is the cause of most of your anxiety-induced breakdowns—thankfully.

(Ordering food at a place you've never been to before is a strong second contender for that title, by the way.)

You smile at Spencer when he leans closer to you, his voice dropping to a soft whisper so only you can hear him when he gently asks, "Are you feeling any better now?"

In a playful display of your gratitude you nudge his shoulder with yours before nodding your head, answering truthfully, "I am. Thank you, Spence," and letting your hand fall to his arm and gently squeeze it through the soft fabric of his cardigan.

You don't notice how, from across the table, Aaron is so fixated on this simple, purely platonic gesture that he visibly flinches when Morgan scoots over to him on the bench and slings a heavy arm around his shoulder, a wide smirk that's all teeth and mischief splitting his face in half as he addresses his superior. He knows he only gets away with his cheeky nonchalance because of the laid-back and moderately tipsy state all of you are currently in—and isn't above shamelessly exploiting this.

"Hotch, my man. So about that fancy gala next week—"

That fancy gala Morgan so casually refers to is the FBI Agents Association—FBIAA for short—Gala that is hosted once a year on a random Thursday in November in the Ronald Reagan Building and International Trade Center in downtown Washington. It's a fundraising event for the Association's charities, one of them being a fund that would've paid your college tuition if your father had—you feel sick even thinking about it—died while employed by the Bureau, and the whole BAU team, and you as their honorary member, have unanimously decided to attend it together.

And although you were pretty excited about it when Garcia brought the gala up, delighted by the opportunity to dress up for one evening and sip champagne out of crystal flutes while watching the different speakers up on the stage but actually listening to the BAU team's gossip about each and every one of them, the mention of it now makes your stomach drop abruptly.

Your grip on Spencer's arm tightens involuntarily because you know what the next words coming out of Morgan's stupid grinning mouth will be, you were dreading them since setting foot in this bar, were hoping against all hope that at least tonight you would be spared from hearing about her.

"—you didn't happen to run into that triathlon lady—"

"Beth," Garcia helpfully pipes up while casually fishing for the straw of her drink and taking a sip from the most blindingly colorful cocktail you've ever seen in your life.

"—Beth—again, did you? Because a little birdie told me that she would love to be your date for that evening if you just asked her."

Your stomach twists into several painful knots and you quickly reach for your own glass to drown the rest of your cocktail-flavored cold water, hoping it'll wash down the ugly and burning jealousy rising like bile in your throat.

But it doesn't, and you're stuck listening to a conversation you desperately don't want to be a part of, that awful green-eyed monster sinking its sharp claws mercilessly into your tender skin all the while.

Derek's smug grin only grows wider at the unimpressed stare his nosiness earns him from his supervisor, which gives sweet Garcia enough time to voice her enthusiastic agreement, her artfully manicured nails tapping giddily against the tall glass in front of her.

"You should really ask her, you know!"

She's not brave enough to add the well-meaning but meddlesome "You need to get out some more, have some fun and meet more people instead of wasting away in your office every day and night!" that is on the tip of her usually so ungovernable and free-spirited tongue. And even less so the "Getting laid once in a while would probably do you some good, help you relax!" that her brain unpromptedly and unsolicitedly supplied her with one day and has lived rent-free in her head since then.

And before Derek has the chance to actually say these words out loud (and give you the chance to volunteer yourself as a very willing and tragically desperate tribute), you simply stand up, excusing yourself to the bathroom, cowardly but effectively fleeing the scene of the crime.

But you're too hasty, stumbling over Spencer's stupidly long legs in your hurry to get away from this excruciating conversation, too impatient to just wait for him to get up and let you out. The young genius mirrors your noise of surprise but unlike yourself he is quick enough to catch you, thankfully saving you from falling flat on your face (or landing on his lap) in front of the whole BAU team and the rest of the packed bar by urgently grabbing onto your waist to stabilize you.

You lock wide eyes with him, stunned into silence and stillness for a moment before the two of you let out matching awkward little giggles, Spencer immediately pulling his hands back and shoving them between his knees while mumbling an apology that you quickly and equally mumbled dismiss before briskly making your exit to the safe haven that is the ladies' restroom without looking back.

(You can't know that you and your little stunt just saved Aarom from even having to consider how to reply to Morgan's and Garcia's intrusive curiosity as the two peas in a pod immediately stick their nosy noses right into Spencer's alleged love life.

"And you, pretty boy, should really hurry up and ask our dear Doctor Rossi out."

Derek grins smugly from across the table at the clueless young genius who whips his head around, startled by suddenly being forced into the center of attention of their group, his voice rising in panic.

"What? Why?"

"Why?" Penelope parrots back at Spencer, looking at him like he just asked her if fezzes are cool or why people have been shipping Captain James T. Kirk and his First Officer S'chn T'gai Spock since the 60s. "Because you're literally so perfect for each other? You like the same geeky stuff, you're both young geniuses and doctors, you're always talking about some obscure studies and how little creepy-crawlies can help us and our friends in forensics catch the bad guys, and you're literally solving crossword puzzles in the newspaper together like an old married couple?"

She uses her fingers to list and illustrate her arguments, her fierce gaze boring into Spencer's round eyes who uneasily shifts in his seat, his mouth opening and closing in silent protest.

"Should I go on? I can go on," she challenges, not even waiting for anyone to disagree or agree with her. "She instantly remembered how you like your coffee, you were comfortable with letting her touch you immediately and you also—"

"What Garcia is trying to say," Derek gently interrupts his friend so she doesn't run out of air completely while squeezing her shoulder, "is that the two of you are made for each other and that the gala is the perfect opportunity to ask her on a date, boy genius."

Spencer splutters helplessly, looking around the table for support, a spontaneous change of the topic, a family emergency, anything, but the other three agents stay silent. JJ just smiles at him in amused sympathy, decidedly not disagreeing with anything that was said while Emily shrugs her shoulders with a Cheshire cat's grin on her lips, simply enjoying the chaos unfolding in front of her.

Hotch's face on the other hand is completely devoid of emotion, not giving away any thoughts or feelings he may have about the current topic of conversation and gentle teasing.

(But if any of these usually so oberservant profilers had given him and his strained passive face a closer look they would've noticed that his jaw is clenched tightly enough to literally break it if he's not careful.)

"That's not—! That doesn't mean anything. We're just friends!" Spencer squeaks as his last, very weak resort. And he actually means it, knowing that it's simply the truth, that everything between you and him is purely platonic and that the both of you are happily in agreement about it, but his pleas fall on deaf ears.

"Sure you are," Derek hums while raising his beer bottle to his lips as Penelope next to him cheerfully sing-songs, "Doctor Reid and Doctor Rossi sitting in a tree, k-i-s-s-i-n—"

They don't pay Hotch any mind when he stands up and excuses himself as well.)

They also miss when you exit the ladies' room at the other end of the large room at the same time, your head ducked with the remnants of your earlier jealousy still simmering uncomfortably in your stomach.

You wince when the unfiltered noise of the bar and all of its mostly tipsy patrons hit you all at once, trying your hardest not to get too close to these countless strangers when you push your way back to the table near the entrance where your friends set up camp at the beginning of the night.

You keep your eyes on the wooden floor, cringing as the soles of your shoes come in contact with an especially sticky spot when a solid body collides with you without warning.

A startled yelp escapes you, the impact enough to make you stumble, but for the second time tonight you don't land on the floor thanks to someone catching you just in time, a big and warm hand closing firmly around yours and pulling you closer to his warm and solid chest.

The slurred apology of the man who bumped into you promptly fades into the background, just like the rest of the noisy bar, as your gaze snaps up to where you see Aaron already looking down at you, his brown eyes unreadable, his lips set into a thin line.

Immediately, your cheeks go up in flames, the butterfly wings in your stomach transforming into an all-consuming hurricane, and you can't do anything except stare into his eyes with barely hidden longing and quietly stammer your thanks while your hand is still held protectively in his bigger one, your body still pressed closely to his chest.

But Aaron doesn't say anything in reply, his eyes simply fixed on yours while your heart slams against your ribcage traitorously.

Overwhelmed, you have to avert your gaze from Aaron's and that's when he abruptly lets go of you and walks away without a word, leaving you standing in the middle of the crowded room, his comforting warmth disappearing as suddenly as he did.

(You're too busy blinking in bewildered surprise to see the rigid line of his broad shoulders or the pained expression on his face as he forces himself not to turn around and look back at you.

Or the way his hand that just moments before held yours flexes by his side.)

series masterlist || part 1 - ⋆part 2⋆ - part 3 coming soon-ish :3

Thank you so much for reading <3 Likes, reblogs and comments are highly appreciated!

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[tojirights]

I'm sure we've all the "Alastor in a rut" fics but can I mix it up a little and request Alastor in a rut and so needy he's willing to give reader control?

a/n: omg baby's first rut, spawned by his attraction to you and he doesn't know how to get it to stop so he asks for help? :'))) i am def a subby person but every now and then i can write our mens being the needy ones 🩷

tags: 18+ smut, nsfw, unprotected sex, alastor cums a lot

you had an unexpected knock at your door late at night after you'd already gotten into bed, and at first you ignore it. then, it happens again. you groan and throw off the blanket, about to get up when alastor appears from the shadows next to your feet.

you go to scream, not even able to comprehend who or what is grabbing you in the darkness, but there's a hand covering your mouth before you can do so. there's also something... stiff hitting your back. you calm when you recognize the hand and you take a deep breath when he removes it. "what the hell alastor?" you whisper-yell, spinning around to face him. you barely recognize the demon standing in front of you.

he's disheveled, shuddering, and looks completely exhausted. he's in what you assume he sleeps in, which is an interesting looking robe. "al?" you frown, reaching out to touch him but he grabs your wrist before you can. "please, darling... for your own good, be careful with your next move..." even his voice is shaky. your eyes finally catch his, and you gasp when you see the deep, dark desire seeping through them.

“i need… need you.” he speaks, still breathless and you’re sure you’ve never heard something so sexy. your eyes widen, taking in the fact that alastor's cock is what was poking you when he grabbed you. alastor has barely said anything other than a quick casual sexual remark in your direction the entire time you've been here at the hotel, and now he's asking for your help.

"o-oh um... yes! i mean-" you speak way too fast, embarrassing yourself with how fast you're interested in 'helping' alastor. before you can say anything else, alastor's lips meet yours and you're instantly melting against him. he steps backwards until he's falling flat onto the bed, tugging you on top of him. your hips straddle his, and the friction against his cock has him arching into you. you swear he whines when you grind your hips, that you can feel his cock pulsing under the small layer of clothing.

you've heard of demons going into a rut, but you've never seen alastor acting quite like this. his hair is stuck to his forehead with sweat, and his ears stand more alert. he physically looks... needy. and his breathy pants beneath you only spark your desire to help. you decide to push your luck just a little bit and interlock your fingers with his before pushing them above his head and holding them there while you rub against him.

alastor looks mad at first, that you dare try to pin him down, but the second he feels the sweet drag of your cunt over his barely clothed cock, he almost cums. "please." you're not sure alastor's ever begged for... anything before, but his pleas make your core pulse, heat pooling between your legs. "mmm, please what?" you smirk, watching frustration bubble up in his eyes. "please- i just... i need to be inside of you." he sighs, not putting up as much fuss as you thought.

you hold back a moan of your own, wanting to maintain some semblance of control over alastor, since you're sure this won't happen again. "ah~ good boy." you coo, again watching as something flashes in his eyes that's a mixture of anger and lust. "need you, darling." he pleads, grinding his aching erection against you. biting your lip, you tug off your shirt and wiggle your hips enough to slide down your sleep shorts. "make me cum." he gasps, giving into every carnal desire flooding his system.

as soon as the head of his cock presses against your pussy, he's trying to push you to take it all. "ah ah..." you warn, once more reaching to pin his hands above his head. "i will make you cum. don't move." your tone is strict, and alastor hates how much it makes his cock throb. he'll get you back for this brazen attitude at a later date...

for now, all he can think about is emptying every last drop of his seed deep within your sweet, wet cunt. after an agonizingly slow descent, you find yourself fully sat on his cock. alastor's eyes are shut, his chest heaving as every breath he's holding back the urge to cum. "hey al..." you whisper, leaning down so your nose touches his. alastor swallows, his hips wiggling ever so slightly. "y-yes darling?" he shudders, feeling every inch of your pussy squeezing around his leaking cock.

"cum as many times as you need..." the hitch in his breath is so audible, and all the tension in his body snaps like a twig. "you-" he gasps, legs spasming as he tries not to lose it just yet. "-don't know what you're getting yourself into." it's a warning, and you know that, but your cunt clenches at the idea of spending the rest of the night like this. "use me." you murmur, watching as alastor's eyes roll into the back of his head.

the groan that follows is primal, and you give in to his thrusts from below you. the force pushes you forward, your chest flat against his, every thrust upwards pushes more and more of his seed so deep inside of you. and even with his cock nuzzled deep against your cervix, the amount of cum seeps down his cock and covers your inner thighs.

you expect alastor to look worn out, but he looks even hungrier now. wasting little time, alastor flips the two of you so you're now under him. "now then..." he begins, his head slightly clearer now and he's not going to tolerate your behavior from earlier. "i think i like you beneath me a whole lot better, dear." you bite your lip and smile, mischief forming in your eyes. "i like this too."

the look in alastor's eyes tells you that you won't be getting any more sleep tonight.

[chvoswxtch]

an olive branch

pairing: matt murdock x fem!reader

summary: matt’s efforts to find out what he’s gotten himself into don’t go as planned.

warnings: swearing, more angst than me as a teenager, fury being fury, matt being the sassy lil shit he is

word count: 4.4k

a/n: it's only been three days since the born again finale and i'm already having withdrawls. if you are too, here's some matty for you. <3 as always, feedback is welcomed/appreciated!

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“Agent Y/L/N.”

Fury gave her a subtle dismissive nod, which she returned with one of her own, a silent communication passing between them before she turned to slip back into the elevator. Once those doors closed, Fury gestured towards his desk with his hand.

“Please, have a seat.”

Instead of taking a step towards one of the two leather chairs in front of the desk, Matt stayed exactly where he was and decided to cut straight to the chase.

“What am I doing here.”

“I wanted to talk to you. I understand you and Agent Y/L/N had a bit of a…misunderstanding last night.”

Matt let out a dry scoff as a tiny humorless smile tugged at the edge of his mouth, and his dark brows raised above the rims of his red tinted sunglasses.

“Misunderstanding? She tased me and knocked me out.”

“You got in her way.”

The coolness of his tone made Matt tighten his grip around his cane. Fury casually turned to walk back to his desk where he made himself comfortable in the plush leather seat. There was a faint creak when Fury’s leather jacket rubbed against the leather of the chair, and it made Matt’s jaw clench as he grimaced. The Advil hadn’t kicked in yet, and his throbbing headache made his sound sensitivity worse.

“I didn’t agree to be an accessory to murder.”

“And you won’t be.”

Folding up his cane with a little more force than necessary, Matt stalked towards Fury’s desk.

“You really expect me to just stand aside while she-”

“Mr. Murdock, I understand that you argue for a living, and I understand that you’re good at it. But I'm a very busy man, and I'm pressed for time. Agent Y/L/N and I had a little chat while you were out, and we’ve come up with a compromise.”

Matt cocked his head slightly to the side, confusion nestling between his dark brows.

“A compromise?”

“While the two of you are on missions together, Agent Y/L/N will do her best to not use lethal force. But, if there is no other alternative, she will do what she has to do, and you will not intervene. Understood?”

Matt tossed his folded cane into the closest leather chair next to him, and he placed one of his hands on his hip while his other came up to pinch the bridge of his nose and adjust his sunglasses. 

“Why did you drag me into this?”

Fury’s brows lifted almost imperceptibly at Matt’s question, but they quickly furrowed in an entanglement of confusion and annoyance a moment later.

“Drag you into it? Mr. Murdock you were already waist deep in the middle of it. I just thought you’d wanna be part of the team”

“A team of killers.”

Fury let out a deep exhale through his nose, a subtle sign of his patience waning. Resting his elbows on his desk, he interlocked his fingers together as he took a moment to regain his neutral composure. A brief thought flashed through Matt’s brain that Fury may be to blame for Y/N’s unwavering and irritating calmness. 

“What is it you think we do here?”

“I thought you protected people.”

“We do. By any means necessary.”

Matt dragged his palm down the lower half of his face in frustration, the coarseness of his grown out facial hair scratching against his palm as if he were caressing the needles of a cactus. He hated the growth stage. The smoothness of a clean shave never lasted long enough, and the time frame between prickly stubble and a tolerable beard was too long. 

“There’s a system-”

“And it’s broken. You know that better than anyone. Justice isn’t always blind, and some people never get it. That’s why you go out and take it by force at night, isn’t it?”

Matt abruptly paused, his words dying on his tongue. He had no rebuttal for that. And it pissed him off. Seeing Matt’s own patience fading quickly, Fury let out another deep exhale and leaned back in his chair.

“Look, you care. About this city, and about the people in it. That's why you protect it. This is personal for you.”

Matt was quiet for a moment, running a hand stressfully through his hair before placing his hands on his hips and shifting his weight to his other foot.

“Yeah. It is.”

“It’s personal for her too.”

Matt’s ears perked up at that. He tilted his head to the side, puzzlement evident in his expression.

“What do you mean? Personal how?”

“It’s just personal.”

Jesus Christ, these people were brick walls. Nothing was ever a simple answer. And every single answer was calculated and infuriatingly indeterminate. Matt threw his hands up in exasperation and let out a bitter dry and humorless laugh that echoed with incredulity. He turned away for a moment, cracking his neck and shaking his head, and when he turned to face Fury again, his tone was rough and snarky as his temper flared. 

“That's not good enough. You can’t keep leaving me in the dark. You have to give me something-”

“I don’t have to give you a goddamn thing.”

Matt’s nostrils flared when Fury abruptly shut him down with that combative statement. He let out another dry laugh, clicking his tongue against his cheek as he shrugged his shoulders and forced a tight lipped defiant smile on his lips.

“Then I’m not doing this. Not unless you tell me what’s really going on.”

Matt pointed his index finger in Fury’s direction and took a step closer.

“I don’t trust you, or her, and I’m not partnering with someone who can so casually take a life.”

“It wasn’t an issue with Frank Castle or Elektra Natchios.”

There it was again. That simple delivery of something personal about him with an undercurrent of what could either be a taunt or a threat. Her words echoed in his ears as he visibly stiffened.

Just assume we know everything.

Matt’s skin felt like it was crawling with invisible wrathful insects slithering under the surface. Fury might as well have brushed the sharpened tip of a steel blade against the back of Matt’s neck the way his spine straightened and the soft hairs stood to attention pin straight.

Knowing about Frank was one thing, that was easily explainable. Frank and Matt had come to one another’s aid once or twice, and Daredevil crossing paths with the Punisher was something the people in the city noticed. Neither one of them were exactly subtle.

But Elektra…that wasn’t public. That wasn’t connected to Daredevil. That was connected to Matt. Whoever knew about her either had been watching him longer than he thought, or they were really good at digging up things that should stay buried. Either way, Matt was unsettled, and immediately went on the defense with his hands clenched in tight fists at his sides.

“That was different. I didn’t condone what they did.”

“But you weren’t bitching about it in someone’s office either.”

A muscle feathered in Matt’s jaw as he clenched it, and Fury eyed him silently for a moment before slowly rising from his chair, placing his palms flat on his desk as he leaned forward slightly.

“Tell me something, Mr. Murdock. When you beat that man within an inch of his life all those years ago, and you sent him to the intensive care unit where he had to eat through a straw for a month, did you feel remorse? Or did you sleep better at night, knowing that the son of a bitch couldn’t sneak into his daughter’s room anymore after his wife went to sleep?”

Matt’s blood had felt like molten lava pumping through his veins up until the moment Fury brought up that night. It was the night Matt had become a vigilante. He hadn’t been the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen yet. He’d just been the man in the black mask. Fury’s words floated across the space like an unforgiving winter wind, their briskness making his skin prickle with goosebumps and the cold verity of them freezing everything inside him, making the color drain from his face.

Fury’s footsteps were calm and measured as he rounded the desk, but in Matt’s ears, the sound of his boots against the marble floor were like explosives going off in a minefield with each step. Sitting on the desk directly in front of Matt, Fury grabbed the edges on either side of him, his relaxed posture the polar opposite of Matt’s rigidity. 

“You felt better, didn’t you? Knowing you served that little girl justice when the system didn’t. They failed her, everyone else failed her, but you were there.”

Matt swallowed thickly, his hands still clenched tightly at his sides. His fingers were starting to tingle due to lack of circulation.

“I understand that you’re a God fearing man. You have a set of morals, a code, I can respect that. But we do not abide by your rules. Your self righteousness and your hypocrisy have no place in this agency. I am doing you a favor-”

“A favor?”

Matt’s face was twisted up in vexation, caught between incredulity that Fury truly believed that and frustration that he thought any of this was a favor to Matt. 

“And what part of this do you consider a favor, Fury? Invading my privacy? The extortion?”

“Extortion is a bold claim. We didn’t force you to do anything.”

“Not explicitly, but the threat was loud and clear. We know who you are, we know everything about you, comply or suffer the consequences.” 

“Well now you’re just being dramatic. We aren’t holding anything over your head, Mr. Murdock. We simply leveled the playing field. We know who you are, you know who we are. You were already working on a lead we were pursuing, we offered you an in.”

“I didn’t need your help-”

“You are an unsanctioned vigilante, and a civilian. I have given you confidential information on The Red Right Hand, and I am putting my ass on the line allowing you to be a part of this investigation. I didn’t have to do that. And I could have threatened to expose your temperamental ass if you didn’t back off, but I didn’t. Because someone thinks you’re worth a damn. Someone stuck their neck out for you, and put their own reputation on the line, because they believed in you-someone that I trust, and that is not an easy accomplishment.”

Matt’s mouth snapped shut as Fury’s words settled between them, once again leaving him with more questions than answers. Fury’s patience with Matt had clearly run out, and Matt could feel that this conversation was over whether he was ready for it to be or not.

Satisfied with Matt’s silence, Fury slowly stood up straight, and there was an edge of warning to his voice when he spoke.

“Now, I am offering you an olive branch. You’d be wise to take it.”

»»———　　———««

The buzzing of Matt’s phone against the wooden dining table alerted Matt to an incoming phone call before the automated voice did.

“Incoming call, unknown number.”

Matt’s fingertips brushed over the last few Braille bumps of the court document he was reading before reaching over to tap the phone screen.

“This is Murdock.”

“Did you find the present I left you?”

Matt’s concentration was sufficiently broken when he heard her voice. The document was left momentarily abandoned beneath his fingers as creases of confusion settled in his forehead.

“How did you get my number?”

“I knew your address, you think I didn’t have your phone number?”

The amusement in her voice was clear, as if she were standing right next to him instead of on the other end of the line. Her original question made him sit up a little straighter, focusing his senses on his front door. He didn’t notice anything.

“Wait, what do you mean present you left me? I haven’t gotten anything delivered.”

“I left it in your closet.”

Matt snapped his head in the direction of his phone. His expression immediately shifted from mild confusion to full blown annoyance. 

“How the hell did you-, I locked the rooftop door.”

“And I told you I can pick locks.”

“Stop breaking into my fucking apartment.”

An exasperated sigh tinged with a twinge of playfulness floated through the phone speaker.

“Just go check your goddamn closet.”

Letting out a deep exhale through his nose, Matt angrily swiped his phone off the table, his chair screeching against the floor when he abruptly pushed it back to stand up. When he stepped into his walk-in closet, he tilted his head to the side, using his senses to locate the box sitting on one of the shelves. He hadn’t noticed it when he came home. Granted, he hadn’t even come into his bedroom yet. He’d immediately sat down to go over his closing statement for court on Thursday.

Setting his phone aside, he slowly reached out to brush his fingertips over the slender rectangular box. The wrapping paper was smooth, and there was even a bow tied around it with soft silk string. 

“You tie this yourself?”

“I did.”

“How thoughtful.”

Matt’s dry sarcasm didn’t quite match his internal reaction. Brushing his fingertips over the silk string and following it towards the center where an expertly tied bow rested, a subconscious smile ghosted over the edge of his mouth. Despite him being an ass about it, it was actually thoughtful. Not that he’d ever tell her that. 

After pulling the bow loose and unwrapping the box, he lifted the top off, and his face scrunched in curiosity and uncertainty feeling cool metal touch his fingertips. There were four slender pieces of it side by side, the one on the far left wrapped in smooth leather with grooves for an easy grip. For how firm it felt, it was surprisingly light when he picked it up, almost weightless. 

“What is this?”

“You can’t tell with your super senses?”

“They’re not super. They’re heightened.”

As Matt inspected the object, he felt a sense of familiarity. Brushing his thumb over the bottom of one of the slender pieces, it seemed to click in his brain. One by one, he locked each piece into place, straightening them out vertically. He rubbed the thin silk rope at the end of the handle between his first two fingers and his thumb, the opening wide enough to wrap around the pieces to keep them bundled, or to hang up by his front door.

“Is this a cane?”

“With a tracker. I installed the tracking app on your phone.”

“What? How did you even-”

“You were unconscious for quite a while.” 

Matt let out a dry laugh, shaking his head as he continued to glide his hand slowly over every part of the cane.

“So you’ve broken into my apartment God knows how many times, you took my suit, and my phone. Anything else?”

“Well, I was gonna swipe your card and treat myself to a nice dinner, but according to your bank account, you’re one of those lawyers that actually cares about people, not money.”

Matt could practically hear the smirk in her voice, and it made one tug across his own mouth.

“Unlucky for you.”

“Mhm. Owens, on the other hand, gets a pretty nice payday from the government. I put it on his tab instead.”

Matt was quiet for a moment, trying to decipher the intention behind this unexpected gift. He couldn’t think of one. Or maybe he just wanted to hear it from her lips.

“Why did you get me a cane with a tracker?”

“Because littering is illegal in New York.”

Matt couldn’t stop the amused snort that escaped even if he’d tried.

“And I didn’t get you a cane. It was custom made. Feel that button on the handle?”

Matt’s hand glided down the smooth surface until he felt a small circular button just a few inches below the handle.

“Yeah?”

“Well press it.”

“How do I know it’s not gonna explode?”

A laugh sounded from the other end of the line, and it caught Matt off guard. He wasn’t sure why, but he had an urge to hear it again. It humanized her otherwise artificial demeanor.

“Wow, guess those senses really aren’t super. “

Pressing the button, the top two pieces merged into one, as did the bottom two, leaving a string of material between them. It happened so quickly Matt nearly dropped the two pieces he was now holding. They felt like…his batons? Rubbing the thin string of material connecting them between his thumb and first two fingers, his dark brows furrowed. It was some kind of smooth metal, but he couldn’t place it.

“What is this made of?”

“High-tensile steel fiber composite cable. It’s virtually indestructible, so it shouldn’t snap no matter what you do with it. The cane itself is made out of Vibranium.”

Matt’s hand suddenly paused its exploration, and he cocked his head to the side.

“Vibranium? Like…Wakandan Vibranium?”

“Is there another kind?”

“How the hell should I know?”

“Yes, Vibranium is only sourced from Wakanda. Are you familiar with kinetic energy?”

Matt rolled his eyes as he pushed the small button again, the two split batons morphing back into a cane.

“I’m a lawyer, not a scientist.”

“You graduated Summa Cum Laude from Columbia, but you don’t know basic science? I’m disappointed, Matthew.”

The playful tease in her comment had Matt fighting the smirk that threatened to cross his lips, betraying his own stubborn defiance. He clicked his tongue against his cheek as he broke the cane down into four pieces again, wrapping the thin silk rope around the bundle.

“Aw, sweetheart, I’m gutted. How am I gonna live with your disappointment?”

“I’m sure you could make a compelling case for my forgiveness, Counselor. I’ll even trade for it.”

Matt let out a dry chuckle and shook his head, taking the phone off speaker to bring it up to his ear, dropping his voice to a lower octave.

“No, see, forgiveness isn’t a transaction. That’s your first mistake. Although I wouldn’t expect someone who seems incapable of feeling guilt to understand the fundamentals of forgiveness. But you’re welcome to come to church with me one Sunday, learn a thing or two.”

“Oh I don’t know, Matthew. I think I’d have to clear an entire day just to sit through your weekly confessional.”

“Well I’m sure if you were to go in, you’d probably never come out.”

The momentary silence on the other end felt like a little triumph. He’d won this round. He’d managed to tip the scales back in his favor. 

“Now, you gonna tell me what the point of this science lesson is?”

“Vibranium absorbs kinetic energy. Whatever hits the metal takes, it stores, and that energy can be released.”

“Released?”

“Think of it as a boost to pack a really powerful punch.”

Matt’s thumb absentmindedly brushed over the gift, contemplating his next question. When he spoke, there was no attempt at banter, no sarcastic remark, just pure curiosity.

“Why did you have this made?”

“So you can vigilante on the go.”

It wasn’t an answer. Not a real one. He’d dropped his guard for a second, allowing a snippet of vulnerability into the conversation, hoping for raw honesty. As much as she frustrated the hell out of him, and as much as he didn’t trust her and wasn’t sure if he even liked her, he wanted to understand her. He didn’t know why, but he did. And she was giving him nothing. 

“Right.”

Matt’s disappointment was palpable even through the phone. An uncomfortable moment of silence passed before a quiet sigh sounded from her end.

“Look, it’s a peace offering.”

“Because you need my help-”

“No. I don’t. But I want it.”

That surprised him. That was the last thing he expected her to say. It made him pause, considering the sincerity in her words. I want it. That was something. Real, honest, vulnerable. But it didn’t make Matt any less weary of her.

“I have conditions.”

“I already agreed to Fury’s compromise-”

“I have more.”

This time her sigh was tinged with exaggerated exasperation, and it made him roll his eyes.

“I’ll start knocking.”

“Don’t tase me again.”

“Don’t give me a reason to.”

Matt let out a deep exhale through his nose, reaching up to pinch the bridge of it. He didn’t know if he’d ever met someone so insufferable. And he knew Frank Castle.

“You know, if we’re gonna work together, you’re gonna have to at least pretend you trust me.”

Matt let out a genuine laugh at the audacity of her statement, and he shook his head as he switched his phone to his opposite hand, raising it to his other ear. 

“Sweetheart, you don’t get to pull the shit you did the other night and talk to me about trust. You haven’t exactly given me a good impression so far. I also know virtually nothing about you, which puts me at a disadvantage, because you know everything about me.”

“I don’t know everything about you.”

“I thought I was supposed to assume you knew everything?”

Matt’s voice was mocking as he repeated those irritating words he was tired of hearing.

“Assume, yes. That doesn’t mean that I do.”

All at once, bewilderment washed over him. Matt stood there in his closet, letting those words sink in, finally blinking a few times to chase away the dryness that had glazed over his sightless eyes in his stupefied state. 

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Let’s start simple. What’s your favorite color?”

Matt was still trying to process that she didn’t actually know everything, she’d just led him to believe that. And he had. Pressing his lips together in annoyance, his voice was dry and flat when he answered.

“I’m blind.”

“So? You weren’t always blind.”

Dropping the phone down to his side for a moment, Matt tilted his head back and dragged his top teeth across his bottom lip, letting out a quiet grunt before cracking his neck and lifting his phone back to his ear with a disgruntled deep exhale. 

“Red.”

“I never would’ve guessed.”

Matt’s eyes rolled so hard he thought for a moment they’d stay stuck in the back of his skull.

“Well, why?”

“Why what?

“Why is red your favorite?”

Matt’s feet carried him out of the closet and over towards the edge of his bed where he sat down, trying to decide how to answer. There were a million different ways he could, but most of those answers were personal, too personal for him to feel comfortable telling someone whose intentions he was still trying to figure out. His intrigue about her was muddled by his suspicion that had only continued to grow with each encounter.

“My dad was a boxer. It was his color.”

“Do you remember him?”

Matt tensed slightly at that question, and he immediately redirected the conversation.

“It’s my turn to ask a question.”

“Alright, fine. Go ahead.”

A hundred questions flashed through his brain, but he knew he had to be intentional about which one he chose. Trying to get an answer out of her that wasn’t yes or no or annoyingly vague was like pulling teeth. So he played it safe and smart and threw her own question back at her.

“What’s yours?”

“What?”

“Favorite color.”

“Green.”

There was a small pause, and then her voice sounded again.

“Emerald green.”

“Huh, that’s not what I expected. Why?”

“It’s calming. It reminds me of something…something good.”

There was a hesitance in her tone, an uncertainty that made him stay quiet, picking up on the fact that she seemed like she wanted to say more but was conflicted about it. He wanted to know, so he gentled his own voice to give her a little push.

“Yeah? Like what?”

The silence that passed stretched for so long Matt thought she might have hung up on him, but then her voice came through, and it was the softest he’d ever heard it.

“I have these…glimpses I get sometimes. A place. A woman.”

The electricity buzzing throughout the building, the conversations happening on the floors above and below him, and even the lively sounds of the city outside seemed to fade completely as he solely focused on her voice. 

Matt was hesitant to push too far and make her shut down. He didn’t know if she was intentionally being more honest to prove to him that she was trying and making an effort, or if the question brought up a memory she’d seemingly gotten lost in, but he was going to take full advantage of this rare moment.

“Are these…memories?”

“I think so. I think it’s where I grew up. Somewhere with a lot of trees and grass. Cherry blossoms. And the woman, I can’t really see her face, but I think she’s my mother.”

Matt never once stopped to think about where she came from, or who she was outside of S.H.I.E.L.D. He’d been so focused on who she was currently that he hadn’t even thought about who she had been. But that hint of grief was an almost imperceptible crack in her perfectly crafted exterior, and he recognized it. 

Because he felt it, every single day. He’d been haunted by it ever since that tragic night that had left him completely alone in the world.

Matt let out a soft breath, his tongue darting out to wet his lips as he tilted his head downwards.

“You lost her.”

“Yeah.”

Her voice was so quiet, and there was a rawness to it he wasn’t expecting. It was what he’d been wanting, but now that he had it, he wasn’t sure what to do with it. For every answer she gave, he had thirteen more questions. He’d never had such a hard time trying to get a read on someone before.

“You know, I think that might be the first honest thing you’ve said to me.”

“I thought you knew when I was lying.”

A fleeting smile graced Matt’s lips, and as the volume of his voice lowered to match the sudden intimate nature of the conversation, his retort was interlaced with the truth that neither one of them seemed to find amusing.

“You’re a good liar.”

Another moment of silence passed before she spoke again.

“I was trained to be.”

tags: @the-swift-escape @lambmurdock @lunakkey @Lfdybadgirlsdiw @devilmurdock64 @moonyinthestars @suits-and-smirks @day-dreaming-goddess @natashasotherhalf @rebel13lion39 @pixelfaery @ebsmind @mattmurdocksscars @ahhhhhhhydbhdg @ayupcap @thepassionatereader @awenthealchemist @zomtart @superrbffun @buckypops @snicksbabe @redroomproperty @angel113431 @18raven @a-sunflower-in-bloom @shadypaperwitch @lizziela @givemylovetoall @dreadful-secrets @dreadfulxives18 @jjprxntiss @bigratbitchsworld @s1xthirty @daisy-the-quake@raven18 @hipwell @scorpiovelaryon @yiiiikesmish @mel-thefrog @ponyosmom35 @daisydark @xoxabs88xox @punkshyteee @abbyhaslongshorts @wolvierinee @snowflames-world @yomnajir @Fries11 @groovycass

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[writingunderneathawillow]

20 questions

warnings: nothing, just fluff word count: 530 a/n: my first work for steve, yayyy!! just a quick drabble :)

You had been playing for a while now, questions about anything and nothing exchanged between you and Steve when he asked: “What’s your plan for the future?”

In surprise, you looked up at him. It seemed like a very direct question, one that was slightly loaded.

You leaned back a little, gazing at him before answering.

“In the far �� and I mean far – future, I’d like to settle down somewhere nice. In the countryside maybe, but not too far away from the next big city,” you replied honestly while watching Steve’s face intently.

“Settling down, huh? How’d that look for you?” He asked. His eyebrows knitted together ever so slightly, soft lips parted as he waited for your answer. One could practically see the inner workings of his brain, trying to figure you out as best as he could.

“Well, a nice house with a pretty garden. I want a place where you don’t have to lock the windows and doors every night, somewhere where you don’t have to install a security system. And I’d like to do that with someone special,” you explained slowly, “Someone by my side.”

You and Steve hadn’t been dating long enough that talking about growing old together felt comfortable, so your answer ended up being rather vague.

“Someone special,” he repeated, a soft smirk on his face that caused the skin next to his eyes to crinkle ever so lightly. “What would that someone special be like?”

You couldn’t help but chuckle as he stretched his arms, interlocking his hands behind his head as he kept his eyes focused on you.

“Well,” you began, a sly smile dragging the corners of your mouth upwards, “He’d have to be handsome. And rich, of course,” you teased.

“Of course,” Steve echoed, amusement written over his face.

You continued: “I like ‘em blond. Blue eyes. Abs for days. Handsome guys, you know.”

Warmth spread through your face and neck as his smirk deepened.

“Sounds like you got a pretty specific type, don’t ya?” His voice dripped with delight as he took in your words, and you could tell that he felt rather smug.

“Yeah, I guess you could say that,” you replied, now leaning in closer to him.

“You know anybody like that?” He grinned from ear to ear, releasing his hands from the back of his head and he also shifted towards you.

“Oh, well, Thor’s a really great guy, don’t you think?”

The way his smile dropped, and his breath hitched almost sent you keeling over. Steve Rogers was a man of many talents, but his ability to look like a kicked dog was almost uncanny.

“Thor,” he repeated, feigning hurt at your words. “You gonna choose a god? One whose biceps the size of my head?”

You couldn’t keep your laughter in any longer, the sounds bubbling from your throat as you rested your hand on his thigh.

“I’m kidding,” you giggled, “Guess I’d be okay with settling for a guy with a shield. But it has to be really cool one.”

He rolled his eyes playfully. “My shield’s the coolest. That’s gotta mean that I’m in the running, right?”

“I guess you qualify.”

thank you for reading :) gentle reminder that likes are more than appreciated but comments and reblogs make the dream work

[quinnynation]

the first of many,, first kisses with bonedo ! headcanons

park sungho :

sungho knows he wants to kiss you as soon as you arrive at your date. he's known for awhile that he likes you, but you look so...incredible, and the way you're being extra attentive to his day and interests just seals the deal to him. so when you linger at your apartment door for a few moments too long? yeah, he takes the opportunity; carefully leaning down and using his slender fingers to lift your chin before interlocking his lips with yours.

"you don't know how long i've thought about doing this." he'd whisper as the two of you break apart for air, sending a chill up your spine that practically begs you to go back for more.

lee riwoo : 

riwoo, bless his heart, is a nerve wreck. he wants to kiss you, more than anything in the world- but god he is shaking so badly and stumbling over every sentence he attempts to utter.

"are you okay?" you'd ask, genuine worry lacing your tone as you tilted your head. riwoo would go bright red, stammering about how he's fine and not to worry about him- his eyes betraying him by glancing at your lips for just a moment too long.

that's when you know what he's so nervous about. and thus the teasing begins, getting just slightly too close to his face- lingering for a moment before pulling away.

it isn't until the end of your date that you finally kiss him, feeling all the anxiety physically melt off his body as he slowly wraps his arms around your waist.

myung jaehyun : 

oh my sweet loverboy myungjae <3 jaehyun is the kind of guy to lay his head on your shoulder/chest during a movie, listening to the melodic sound of your heartbeat against your ribcage.

thump, thump, thump.

it almost, almost, lulls him to sleep. the sight of your sleepy puppy crush fuels you with a bit too much cuteness aggression- which results in you peppering the top of his hair with kisses. he almost immediately becomes a puddle of giggles as he pulls you into a tight hug.

it's only natural that when your shared giggles die down, a soft kiss is shared.

han taesan : 

listen...taesan really tried to play it cool. like...he really, really, tried.

but the look you give him when he arrives at your apartment fifteen minutes early? yeah, he knows he's cooked.

taesan tries acting cool as you invite him to lay on your bed while you finish getting ready, but being surrounded by your decor, the lingering smell of your shampoo and signature perfume? yeah, he's not just cooked...he's charred.

"dongmin? are you okay? you're quiet." you ask, looking at the man who was sitting on your bed through your vanity mirror. dongmin's eyes go wide as if he's been caught with his hand in a cookie jar, "m' fine." he mumbled, looking anywhere but your eyes.

you'd squint at him, trying to analyze what it was that was actually troubling the man. only to come up empty handed.

"you look really pretty." taesan would comment as you applied your lipstick/gloss/stain/etc. you'd glance up at him through the mirror once more, a soft blush sprinkling over your nose. "you look really pretty too, minnie." you smile back

it doesn't take long for him to work up the courage to kiss you after that- playfully pouting when you scold him for smearing your lip product.

kim leehan :

leehan...my sweet, slightly social-cue-lacking, leehan <3 either he has no clue that you've been trying to kiss him for the past 4 hours, or he's playing hard to get.

and judging by the way he's still talking about his newest tank's filtration system-- it's the former. he's just going on and on, that enthusiastic twinkle in his eyes shining bright as ever; you listen- or at least pretend too.

don't get me wrong, you love hearing about leehan's fish. the ideas he has for new tank landscapes, the ups and downs of figuring out the perfect filtration system but...today, today you've had it.

you want to kiss this man, so bad. so finally, you bite the bullet and just admit it outright- "hyunnie, i love you- and your fish- but i've been trying to kiss you for the past four hours." your tone might be blunt, but you aren't attempting to be mean in the slightest. just very very honest.

leehan would blink in surprise before his nose and eyebrows crinkling together in confusion..."you have?"

you nod, a breathy laugh escaping you. leehan would blush, a mixture of love and embarrassment sitting prettily across his face. he'd lean in, placing a quick- but meaningful- peck onto your lips before uttering, "you could've just asked, y'know."

kim woonhak :

oh woonagi <3 sweet, inexperienced woonagi whose first (and fingers crossed, last) love is you. he spends weeks running a game-plan in his head, with the "help" (endless teasing and mindless bickering) from his hyungs.

however, when the cafe the two of you were meant to have lunch at closes early due to an electrical issue- and it starts pouring, thanks to the forecast falsely promising "sunny skies"- he realizes quickly that he should've planned for the unplanned.

because now the two of you are sitting inside a convenience store, soaking wet and sharing a ramyeon...which isn't very convenient for kissing. no pun intended.

don't get him wrong! he is having fun, because your there and despite being soaking wet and cold- you're still hilarious.

it's just...not the most romantic place to kiss.

does that stop him though? no. no it does not.

your kiss is shared inside a 7/11, over a 1 dollar cup of ramyeon. "sorry about the...lack of romance." he'd laugh as he pulls away, scratching the back of his neck. you'd wrinkle up your nose in laughter before leaning in to press another kiss on the edge of his jawline.

the first of many.

this isn't proof-read so it probably sucks but y'know ! you live laugh and learn, or wtv the sign at hobby lobby says.

[robolvrr]

friend you can keep ꩜ .ᐟ

jazz x prowl x gn! human reader warnings: nsfw. buzzed sex.

"this what you wanted, wasn't it? attention? couldn't shut up and let us focus, could you?"

"relax, prowler - they're drooling. awww, wait a min', that's cute!"

is this a wet dream? it feels like a wet dream. there wasn't an oracle in the universe that could have predicted such an event - and it was fitting to classify as such, grandeur and overwhelming on so many levels you swear your eyes see nothing but fuzzy interference.

"p-p-prrowwwl, puh.. slow down!"

"slow dowwwn? slow down?" he's grinning, awful asshole. he rarely does, fanged smirk infuriating and itching to be clawed away.

still, your protests are corroded, lacking bite or want. that much is obvious otherwise you wouldn't be clutching so greedily round the law enforcer's waist, babbling praises and curses that make prowl want to take you by the throat.

whereas he takes and takes, jazz on the other hand, gives.

his smile is saccharine, pleased. you can still make out his expression, mesh lips cloying while they travel in the crook of your neck in determined, practiced trails. he is the sweet to prowl's sour, soothing lovebites where his partner's teeth once dug. he knows what places make you melt.

"y'know, you about the smoothest thing i've ever heard. ain't that something?" his door wings give a proud twitch when prowl tsks, careful to squeeze your cheeks. it may have taken some coaxing and prayer but he's relieved to feel you relax when his spike bumps against your leaking hole.

"cut it out, jazz. they were a brat. they don't deserve praise right now."

something akin to a wheeze bubbles from your lips. you call him dozens of insults he doesn't bother researching. they clearly can handle their drinks better than you could.

"prowl, they're about to take both of us, like a good little sparkslut. aren't ya, babe?" his digits interlock with the paler mech's, helm canted and before long, his simmering gaze is enough to ease some of the other's disgruntlement. unlike him however, he knows you're still fragile, slowly easing the tip of his spike and hissing quiet when it bumps against the ridges of prowl's.

prowl couldn't be torn from this even if the whole building set aflame.

"say it. say you'll be good and i bet ya he'll be nicer."

"i-iiiii... i'm good! i'm good, 'mgoodsogood, so good, jazz it's. not gonna fit, not gonna, how-"

more kisses. you, prowl, jazz, you again. you're in heaven and hell.

"slow. 'll take it slow with you. wanna feel that stretch."

naturally, jazz knows you'll secrete lubricant of your own, though the challenge of the pair inside was asking a lot. he also knew you were an over-achiever and had been eyeing them the entire assignment, with the lingering boldness of your own kind's vice still a whisper in your system.

"... thereee we go!"

pain is devoured by euphoria, grinding hauling to a pause as prowl remembers not to shatter your resolve entirely. you cum, hard, because your associates are huge.

jazz checks out how you creamed, far from bored from the lack of light pink that smears his spike. he flicks a glance to prowl, who looks a mixture of angry and very turned on. he can bet his battle computer is on the fritz which explains why he's practically steaming at the jaw.

"ain't this nice?"

"can it jazz, please. just.. j-just for now. frag."

there's an inside joke which you're left out of for now. you'll ask about it when their fluids aren't soaking your uniform.

"... another round, newbie?"

they swear you squeeze them a little harder.

robolvrr 2025.

a/n: so. eat up. i know there is barely ANY content of both of them and i don't know why because they would handle you SO WELL. i am unleashing my demons for now while the weekend lasts.

[motthe]

If there requests are still open <3 could you maybe do something with a isekai/Lumen au? I thought of how different would be The reactions towards The different technology or behaviors! Any character is fine! (But if it's possible Viktor) Any gender is fine too!

Only if you're comfortable with it! Your writing is amazing 💖💖💖

oh man this was fun to play around with. thanks for requesting!!!

“Construction will be delayed.” Viktor hated to say it, but the storm had done too much damage to the Hexgate and there was no telling what that lightning strike had done to the core far below ground. “We must pray everything is intact at the base.”

“Elevator’s running. That’s good, right?” Jayce tried to find the silver lining as they stepped in, doors closing behind them.

Viktor grabbed your lumen before gravity shifted. The first time in an elevator had sent you into the ground and you’d yet to learn despite the many times he had used the academy elevator.

It was a common thing amongst lumens. They merely floated so how could they expect the ceiling to suddenly come racing down.

You brightened at his touch as did Jayce’s when he grabbed his own companion. It was second nature for the both of them to keep you close with all the dangers going on around inventors.

“Surely the lightning wouldn’t travel all the way to the core,” Jayce murmured over the whir of gears moving. “It’s miles below surface.”

“All witnesses reported a pulse of energy,” Viktor reminded him, lithe fingers rubbing against the soft outline of you against the crook of his neck. Your warmth was blocked with the long raincoat covering him. “Perhaps a boost of sorts would be best case scenario. An excess.”

“It’s not powering anything yet,” Jayce said.

“That’s why we must investigate, yes?”

As the metal box slowed to a stop, Viktor dropped his hand. You remained pressed against him.

A loud rattling filled the space as the doors creaked open before quickly coming to a halt. The opening was slim.

“Oh, great,” sighed Jayce, pushing forward and attempting to get them open. He grunted, arms straining as his lumen fluttered above his head. “Yeah, no.” He stepped back huffing. “That’s not budging.”

Viktor eyed the opening. “I think I may fit.”

“You wanna go in there alone?” Jayce’s judgmental tone had him rolling his eyes.

“It would make the most of our time.”

“If you get in trouble, I won’t be able to help.”

Viktor gave him a gentle grin, raising a hand to pat his shoulder. “I will be quick, yes?”

His business partner shrugged, shaking his head as he moved aside to let Viktor through.

Grabbing the seam of the door with one hand, he wedged himself through, cane first. The hall was dark, the only light came from inside elevator and your small form as you eased through.

“Stay close, my star,” he whispered, knuckles nudging you as he began the walk to the core room. The hit of his cane against the floor echoed an eerie song, shadows closed in tight against your brilliance.

Reaching the door posed a problem seeing as there wasn’t any power on this hall. But Viktor was prepared.

Moving his raincoat aside and reaching into his pocket, he pulled out the small pen light and master key and got to work. It was a heavy door but perhaps with some inertia, he’d get it open enough to slip in and check the core.

“You all right?” Jayce’s voice echoed from behind.

“The power is out,” returned Viktor, “I must open the door manually.”

“I’ll see if there’s a control box in here and work on getting these doors open.”

You loomed above, doing a better job of lighting up the lock. He thanked you, finishing up the various interlocking mechanisms before turning his attention to the door.

Taking a breath, he position his bad side against the frame, pushing off with his good leg. It took time, but soon the metal obstacle inched open bringing with it a cold breeze and the glow of the hextech within.

“The cooling system is still active,” he called to Jayce.

A curse sounded as well as an electric zap.

Rolling his eyes, Viktor pushed onwards, slipping through as soon as there was enough space.

His breath clouded in front of him as you hovered near his shoulder, the quiet hum of the core paired with the chill sending goosebumps across his skin.

The fact the core was still active was a good sign and the pack debris on the floor showed nothing had exploded, at least.

Taking a turn around the piece, he squinted as a warm light seeped through the cool, blue glow.

He jumped as the lights overhead flickered to life, the door behind him opening fully as gears turned and Jayce’s “A-ha!” rang out.

Blinking through the sudden blindness, Viktor sighed and rubbed his eyes clear before searching for the light he’d seen.

Instead he saw a hand peaking out from around the core.

“Uh!” he choked, the tip of his cane thumping hard as he moved quickly.

The hand extended to an arm, then a shoulder. A body laid bare just a foot or two from the fore, stomach down and face covered by their hair.

“Jayce!” Viktor yelled, kneeling so fast his cane slid across the floor. His hands hovered over the back, before he took a breath and grabbed their shoulder, attempting to flip them over.

He nearly jumped back as a lumen floated up, a deep, tawny brown. Viktor didn’t pay it much mine, too concerned with trying to get the person on their back and praying they were breathing—

But then your lumen was circling it, the two dancing around one another.

He paused, chest aching as the two brushed and another light blinded him.

You, he thought, breath quickening as he peered down, straining to flip you over. It’s you.

Moving your hair from your face, he took the slope of your nose, the shape of your jaw. You were in a deep slumber, all but dead to the world as clouds slipped from you parted lips.

“You’re freezing,” he whispered, quickly ridding himself of his raincoat and covering your nude form. “Jayce!”

Finally, those heavy footsteps came racing around, nearly slipping from the water trailed on.

“What is it?! Did the core—“ Jayce stood, dumbstruck as he stared down at your body in Viktor’s arms. “How…?”

“Help me,” Viktor gasped. “They’re my fated. Help me!”

“What?” he hissed, eyes moving to the two lumens circling in each other. “Why are they down here?!”

“I don’t know but they’re freezing to death as we speak. They need medical attention.”

Shaking his head, Jayce left the question for later as he lowered to take you from Viktor, carefully keeping you wrapped in the raincoat.

“Go, I will follow,” Viktor ordered. Jayce nodded and took off the way he came towards the elevator. That tawny lumen flew after them as yours returned to Viktor, rubbing against his cheek.

“Please, he all right,” he murmured, cupping you against his neck as he scrambled for his cane. “For my sake.”

.

The crack of lightning and thunder resounded in your head. You bolted upright, gasping.

Something tumbled into your lap, bright against the dark room. You thought maybe you’d knocked a lamp over or a flashlight—but as you get your breath back you find there wasn’t much weight to it.

You scrambled back as it floated up, shrieking.

“What the fuck?!”

Movement across the room had you scrambling for a weapon, the best you get was the pillow behind you as you hold it between you and the weird floating light thing.

“You’re awake.”

The accent was foreign against your ears. You squinted as light flickered on above, taking in a blurry outline on a couch. Rubbing your eyes, you remained tense a man pushed up onto a cane. He stood with a hunched form, shoulders long but dragging down. Wild brown hair framed tired eyes and a narrow face.

“Who are you?” you said, voice cracking from a dry throat. You held the pillow up higher as the light drifted closer. “What is that? Some kind of bug?”

Whatever it was, another one popped up over the man’s shoulder, perching there as if it belonged nowhere else. The man cradled it, brow furrowing.

“You do not know of lumens?”

“What? No,” you huffed, glancing around the room. The white curtains and beds hinted at a hospital or maybe a mental institute. Were you going insane? “Where am I?”

“The infirmary at the academy. It was the closest,” he answered.

“Academy? Which one?”

He tilted his head. “The only one. There are no other academies in Piltover.”

“Piltover?” you whispered. “I don’t know where that is.“

“Are you from another region?” You murmured the name of your country. “Is that in Runeterra?”

“You’re not making any sense,” you huffed, squealing when you spotted the ball of light creeping over the pillow. You panicked, thwacking it away. The man flinched.

“Please don’t,” he said, “it won’t hurt you.”

You eyed the creature before looking to the man.

“You’re connected,” you said.

“Lumens are the embodiment of our souls or so the legends say,” he explained, holding the one on his shoulder out and nudging it towards you. “This one is yours.”

“Mine?” You stared as it hovered, easing back towards the man.

“Go on,” he murmured to it, pushing it back your way. The thing—lumen—refused, sweeping up under his chin as he sighed. “You’re frightened.”

“I don’t know where I am or who you are,” you said flatly. “Of course, I am.”

“Viktor,” he limped forward to the end of your bed, offering a slender hand. “My name is Viktor.”

You took a breath, wincing as the tawny lumen brushed your arm. It was soft and warm, taking a moment before nudging you again.

“Uh, hi,” you whispered to it, raising your eyes to Viktor. “Or, hi to you, I guess?”

His lips twitched as if he wanted to smile.

You pushed your fear down and reached forward to take his hand, introducing yourself.

.

When Viktor left the infirmary to grab you food, Jayce was waiting in the hall. He pushed off the wall as soon as the door closed.

“How are they?”

“Fine,” Viktor said, frowning. “They are lost. They don’t seem to know anything about, well, anything.”

Jayce’s face twisted. “Uh, what?”

“They have never seen or heard about lumens,” he explained, “nor have they heard about Piltover or even Runterra. The names they speak are foreign to me.”

“Well, you’re speaking the same language,” he noted.

“That is one blessing,” he sighed.

Jayce frowned, noticing the new weight in Viktor’s stance. “They don’t know they’re your fated?”

He shook his head.

“Did you tell them?”

“They are overwhelmed, Jayce. I think it best to explain it at a later time.”

“But—”

“I do not wish to scare them even more than they already are,” Viktor stated, words sharp.

Jayce’s eyes lowered to your lumen, shaking against the crook of his neck.

“Right. Okay, yeah,” he whispered. The two stood in silence for a moment before he dared to ask, “Do you think…the Hexgate?”

“Perhaps,” Viktor breathed. “We shall find out, but first things first.” He started off down the hall. “I have my fated to take care of, whether they know it or not.”

[woso-dreamzzz]

Foster

Meadema x Teen!Reader

Summary: You're taken to a new home

You meet Beth and Viv two days after the new year begins.

Social services came around for the last time in the evening two days ago. They found you, curled up on the floor of your wardrobe, having locked it from the inside with a chain of interlocking hairbands.

Your father had been passed out on the landing and your mother was high out of her mind in the kitchen.

You got woken up, told to pack and taken away. You spend the night in your new social worker's office and then you're brought to their house.

Beth and Viv greet you at the door. You only know who they are because your social worker gave you the file before she dumped you here.

"Your room's pretty bare," Beth explains," We can go and get decorations if you want later today."

You survey the room. "It's fine."

It's more than fine. Your old room was a dirty old mattress that you're sure your uncle and cousins stole. Your wardrobe was second-hand and falling apart while your desk had different-sized legs and the accompanying chair didn't have a backrest so was functionally a stool.

"Are you sure?" Beth looks around the room. "We can get decorations. It's no problem."

"It's good," You confirm, placing your bin bag down on the bed (a bed with an actual bed frame!).

"Okay," Viv says," We'll let you unpack while we make lunch. Any allergies?"

You shake your head.

"We'll see you soon."

Unpacking is done embarrassingly quickly and you linger a bit longer to not look too pathetic in front of Beth and Viv. It's little more than twiddling your thumbs and staring at the clock on your bedside table.

You didn't have a bedside table at home so that's kind of nice. It's got drawers on it so you would be able to stash food in it if you needed to.

Beth and Viv seem like nice people but you can never be quite too sure. It's not your first rodeo in the foster system. Your parents cleaned up their act last time so there's a chance they'll do the same this time though, judging by the way your father was passed out on the stairs, you wouldn't be surprised if he ended up dead by alcohol poisoning.

You sigh softly as you get off the bed, stretching out your back in preparation before exiting the room.

"Hey," Viv says when she notices you lingering in the background," Lunch is ready if you want to sit."

You can't quite tell if she's just being nice or if this is an order. She looks a bit more stern than Beth does so you do what she says. Today's not the day to test boundaries.

She smiles though, when you sit down and slides you a plate. "I didn't know what you like so I just put on a bit of everything."

You look down at your plate and can't help the smile. She's made sure that everything's separate too, so nothing's touching and nothing will taint each piece of food.

"Thanks," You say softly, digging in. You don't know when they'll next give you a meal so it's better to gorge yourself now. You've got your hoard of food from your horse hidden in the drawers of your bedside table but you'll have to stock up soon because some of that stuff will be out of date very soon and you're not desperate enough to eat spoiled food just yet.

"Have you got a phone?" Beth asks.

You shake your head. You didn't even have wifi back home which really sucked when you were meant to do research for school.

"Here." She chucks a box at you with a smile.

You catch it out of the air and look at it. It's a phone. A brand new one by the looks of it.

You look at Beth and Viv in shock. Your previous foster parents had never given you things like this before. You'd gotten given a brick phone a few years ago when you were first separated from your parents but that had been flogged for drug money almost as soon as you got reunited.

"I..." You swallowed thickly to quell the tears you knew would spill down your cheeks sooner rather than later. "Thank you..."

"No problem," Beth says," Once you get it all set up, I can give you the Netflix password. There's a laptop coming too but we forgot to order it until last night. It should be here soon though, for your school work."

"Thank you..."

You feel a bit like a broken record, incapable of doing anything but repeating the same two words over and over again.

Viv smiles as well, sliding a bag of non-perishables at you. She doesn't say anything about it but you knew that she knew. You're not too sure how she knew but it must have been written in your file somewhere.

Your old social workers had noted a few times that you hoarded food like you were about to go into hibernation.

You like that Viv doesn't make a big deal out of it though. She just slides you the bag and nods.

You're oddly flattered and your opinion of Beth and Viv is cemented in your heart pretty quickly.

You just hope that they don't betray your trust because they're already shaping up to be the best set of foster parents you've ever had and all they're really doing is the bare minimum.

You glance around the house.

It looks nice. It's pretty cosy and warm.

You nod to yourself, looking down at the bag bashfully.

You think that you'll like it here.

[diejager]

just hear me out for one second.... what if hunter was a titan?... yk like aot (attack on titan)

reader looks totally normal, nothing indicating that they were something other than human. Even laswell wasnt 100% sure on what reader was. A stirring mystery within 141 that they all collectively decide to ignore.

then one day, they were out on a mission that was going horribly, horribly wrong.. incorrect information, sabotage, dangerous illegal weapons, low ammunition, scarce supplies, severe injuries, etc.. you name it.

141 was backed into a corner. definitely not the first time something like this has happened in their career...but they always manage to find a way out. Always making it back home, injured sure- but safe..alive.

this time it wasn't the case. there was no way out, none. death was knocking on the door and soon they had to answer.....

and unfortunately reader was the first to greet death.. a clean shot to the head by a sniper

one minute reader was laying in a pool of their own blood and the next they turn into this gigantic humanoid beast.

in a fit of rage, reader starts to completely destroy the battlefield. not a damn soul alive besides 141.

bodies scattered from the sea to the forest and heavens above ..nothing but pure gore and blood.

reader standing over the battlefield bloodied from head to toe, watching the devastation below.

(This is really long im sorry)

Cw: implied death, blood and gore, Canon-typical violence, titan!reader, gun violence?, tell me if I missed any.

The last thing Horangi remembered hearing through the angered hisses and growls, Price screaming at Laswell and her informants through the coms to find a way out their thick predicament was the shuddering shot that boomed through the air. The hair of his arms raised when he watched you turn towards the sound, your wide eyes and choked breath. You flinched back and lurched forward, hands grasping at your bleeding throat, choking and gurgling on the blood that rose from your wound. He rushed to pull you into cover, biting his lip at your pained expression, you were choking on your blood, dying by the thing that substained you, that cycled life and oxygen through your body. 

Your words were sputtered, splattered crimson on Horangi’s mask as he fussed over you, your pinched brows and scrunched nose, the angered gleam in your dulling eyes and your bloody and sneering lips. You pushed him away, stumbling forward with one step at a time, risking being shot a second and third time, but you kept marching away from them, ignoring their attempt to stop you and reach for you. 

“B- bast- ard-!” He heard you screech.

He didn’t know if some God or Gods favoured you or if you were extremely lucky for still being alive, a second bullet landing by your feet and a third scratching your arm. You raised a bloody hand, palm facing you, the crease and groves of every fold a dark red, then you bit down on it. Hard. He admired the strength behind your bite, the crunch of your skin breaking under your teeth and red exploding, he could only imagine how painful it was, but you were already in so much agony, your body’s probably numb. 

And suddenly, lighting sparked around you, bright yellow and loud, scarily close to you before one thick and dangerous one struck where you stood. Within seconds, he gaped at the mass of muscles, red fibres interlocking and sticking to ligaments and fat that kept it together, tying themselves to bone and tendons, wrapping away the red and white with a wide array of red and blue, building a system of veins that were finally covered by skin. In your place was a giant —a titan, one that he’d heard through the grapevines of black markets and hushed whispered and rumours from the underworld when he gambled his life away. 

The titan - you - let out a loud scream, head thrown back and arms reeling back, fingers clenched in anger, deep sated vitriol that carried you around them. He could only stare on in amazement as you trampled over the surrounding enemies, bending down to grip a man, your thick fingers clenching around him and squeezing the life out of him, leaving his entrails spilling out of his broken abdomen. You moved around stepping and squeezing them to death, a trail of carnage behind you, bodies strewed about, spines broken and heads rolling. 

He let you go on without a word, his breath stolen away by you when you slumped over, your nape breaking open with a loud hiss, steam billowing up the air from how hot your body ran, you arched out, body curled backward with a loud sigh. Horangi stared at you, unmoving and unbreathing, and only moved when Price rushed to you, climbing your titan body to pull the rest of you out, your arms and lower body still attached to it by thick, red muscle. Your feet stuttered, eyes blinking tiredly while you leaned on Price, groaning and rubbing the tension out of your temples. 

He realised the blood that was supposed to stain your skin and clothes were gone, evaporated in the heat of it. Your wound healed and energy spent, you were tired and grumbling about wanting to sleep, face pinched in irritation or annoyance, something he could feel. And without any complaints from them, Price had called for evac and waited at the LZ, everyone huddled around you, sharing the same amount of awe and surprise in their expression. You were a wonder to him, a beast of legends that Horangi had only heard of, but he had many, many questions and curiosities that he wanted fulfilled.

Taglist: @craxy-person @crowbird @dead-cipher @iwannabealocalcryptid @iizx7y @mxtokko @capricorn-anon @perfectus-in-morte @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @angelcakes-22 @ramadiiiisme @ramblingsofachaoticthinker @im-making-an-effort @love-dove-noora @jinxxangel13 @daisychainsinknots @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @mul-pi @danielle143 @beau-min @makayla-666 @urfavsunkissedleo @notspiders @brokenpieces-72 @luvecarson @petwifed @randominstake @heartelysia @jggykhug09090 @hayleybarnesx @shironasumi @sparky--bunny @bloobewy @call-me-nyxx @sans-chara @cod-z @sweetnanah @aldis-nuts @thigh-o-saur @evolutionarry @kaoyamamegami @cassiecasluciluce

[trudemaethien]

Kyrimorut

I’ve just done another reread/skim of the repcomm books for details of Kyrimorut for @ossidae-passeridae, who encouraged me to do a write up for reference. Some of these facts are explicitly stated, scattered throughout the series, and some are my own surmises. (My main conclusion is that KT considered architecture just about as carefully as the TCW creators did the GAR ranking system. lolsob)

So. In this essay I will

Kyrimorut, Kal Skirata’s refuge for his clone sons, was called a bastion, and frequently described in siege terms. It was also referred to as a homestead and a farmhouse.

“It was yaim—part barracks, part hotel, part married quarters, part farmhouse, the archetypal Mandalorian clan home.”

This stronghold was located in the heavily forested northern hemisphere of the planet Mandalore, a few hours flight north of Keldabe City, within 100 kilometers of a small town called Enceri, and just south of a lake. It boasted a main house and numerous outbuildings, including at least one medical laboratory, animal pens, and a hangar large enough for multiple craft.

Rav Bralor, another of the Cuy’val Dar, rebuilt it at Kal’s request during the war, and it was finished enough by a year in, to house some members of their group temporarily, but was still undergoing renovations up to the last moment before they moved in. She used droids to aid in the construction. The building was composed of brick, wood, stone, and rammed earth, and the (probably local, veshok) planks were joined with interlocking joints. The interior walls were plastered and painted, likely with naturally derived mineral paints; one room was mentioned to be “honey-colored.” The windows were narrow, described as arrow-slits, and the doors were unpowered hinged wooden slabs. The whole thing was large, and the rooms were characterized as airy and roomy at various points.

The layout seems to have been vaguely circular, or a circle of chained hubs, with a central karyai. The lobby was another hub, and there were both surface and underground passages connecting the hubs, radiating out like “the spokes of an eccentric wheel.” For this reason I think there were two floors in the main house with one above, the other underground. There was also a sheltered circular atrium off the main hub, with a roof that slid back, where they roasted meat.

The house had gutters and down-pipes to deal with snowmelt and rain, and given the nearby lake, they would have to have a good vapor barrier for the underground portion. Since the place was rural rather than urban, it was largely quiet, and the homestead's acoustics were such that sound carried well. This indicates to me that likely only the exterior walls were fortified of heavy stone and rammed earth; interior walls were more likely built of wood and plaster and easier to modify if they had some need. Power was unreliable in such a remote setting, so they used wood fires for heating and cooking; everything smelled of wood-smoke. The entire structure was designed to be unnoticeable from the air, and the clearing was not visible until the last moment upon aerial approach.

The karyai was the main living room. In one scene, Kad played on the floor with toy animals (nerf, bantha, shatual, nuna, jackrab, vhe’viin) Atin had carved from veshok wood, Wade Tay’haai played a purple-painted bes’bev (sharp flute), and Rav Bralor brought throat-searing tihaar for everyone. She lived on her own clan’s farm a few kilometers away, and had brought Yayax squad, who mostly stayed there, to visit Kyrimorut. They were learning carpentry from manuals, as one does.

People had their own rooms for sleeping, with couples sharing, along the corridors. Arla and Uthan’s rooms both had exterior windows. Quarters were pleasant, plain but comfortable, with generous mattresses on the beds and a table for personal use.

Then there was a room Etain thought of as the interrogation room, so that’s uhhh lovely.

It’s unclear whether the large table where they gathered for communal meals was in the karyai, the kitchen (which was separated from other areas by a door), or some other room. Wherever it was located, it was possible for someone seated at the table to lean back without getting up and fetch a bottle of tihaar from where it was stored. The table was made of a single large slab of veshok wood, and was big and sturdy enough to use for surgical operation, dismantling engines, or seating a whole clan of armored Mandalorians. They sat in chairs around this table, and Kad sat in a highchair. They used porceplast plates, and mugs for ne’tra gal, a sweet black beer. The head of the household summoned everyone to the table for meals.

The kitchen contained a fireplace and hearth, a chair (where Kal slept), ovens and stovetops, a conservator, enough workspace for at least four people at once, and an adjoining storage area. The kitchen could be a busy, noisy, bustling place, but it was separate from other living areas; people sometimes went there to avoid others.

The 20-30 occupants ate constantly and prodigiously, and never seemed to be lacking. The food was described as filling but not elegant, and was heavy on the protein. They consumed a lot of game; Lord Mirdalan the strill was an animal native to Mandalore and a hunter. Roast shatual, nerf, and roba were mentioned, and they would leave a joint of meat on the table to be eaten all day down to the bone (I shuddered in food hygiene). Fish from the lake were fried in a pan, and they made broth from gihaal, dried smoked fish with a pungent aroma stored in metal containers, one of the staples of Mandalorian ration packs because it kept for years without refrigeration. Also what Kal called Kaminoans, but that’s another story!

We were worried they only ate meat for a while until we came across some vegetables. Kad had pureed kaneta at one point, and for breakfast boiled grain porridge and shirred eggs were on offer. Jilka diced amber root for some dish. Mealbread rolls were also plentiful, and there was a vat of stew at one point. Listed imports via Ny Vollen included flour, grassgrain, pickles, powdered milk, sacks of denta beans, soap, dried fruit, and a bantha bone which was hard to get on Mandalore. The roba they raised themselves.

The roba pen had multiple animals witht at least one boar and one sow with a litter, and despite having veshok posts and walls, the gate was left open. I’m extrapolating that these animals were semi-domesticated and allowed to forage for food but came home to their pen for safety at night. There were rail fences, crop fields, and plans for raising nerf on the property as well. Outbuildings were mentioned frequently, but this was one of the few actually described.

Notable native species mentioned were the large, ancient veshok trees, which were evergreen, hardwood, and straight enough that the table slab was cut out of one large piece. They were ice-glazed and dripping in the spring thaw, so presumably had some defenses against freezing and exploding, or breaking under the weight of the ice, and they populated all the way up to the the polar cap. There was underbrush and bushes, and groundthorn weed, which was very stubborn and difficult to remove entirely. The roba would have helped with uprooting this as they foraged. Vhe’viine were small rodents with white winter coats that lived in burrows in the fields.

The medical laboratory behind the main house (it was necessary to walk around the bastion after exiting to approach it) was a mobile genetics lab/agricultural trailer of the sort usually used for breeding livestock and at racetracks. It was occupied first by Ko Sai and later by Ovolot Qail Uthan. Mereel acquired it, and Mij Gilamar stocked it with stolen/black market medical equipment. When Uthan took over, they built her more lab space. There were rural veterinarians in the community as well; Etain mentioned getting a cryocontainer for a sample from a neighboring farm.

The hangar was situated in a shallow slope to the north of the main house, half-buried in the soil and disguised with netting. It was large enough to house several craft at a time, including Ny Vollen’s ship, Mereel’s speeder, and the Aay’han, among others. Swabbing down the compartments of the Aay’han, replenishing stores, and prepping the ship for the next flight managed to occupy most of an afternoon for four men.

The lake was also to the north, and I believe it was a very large lake, functioning as a heat-sink. It had not fully frozen despite the bitter winter, described as minus eight and thirty degrees colder than tropical (although the temperature scale is not mentioned, it’s likely celsius because of the author’s background). There was ice extending from the shore like a pier, but also mist rising above it in the early morning and frost on the shore, even though layers of snow deep enough for feet to crunch through the surface were mentioned elsewhere at various times. This led my friend to speculate that there could be geothermal activity in/under that lake. Kal and Walon Vau were planning to build a memorial on the near lake shore featuring the armor tallies of fallen clone soldiers.

There was granite in the area, which also gave support to the concept of historical volcanic activity. Their yard sported four chunks, each large enough for at least two people to climb up and perch upon, which had erupted from the surface long ago and been worn down to a weathered polish. Winds came in off a nearby plain. A clear (muddy) area large enough to play mesh’geroya was also near the house.

Enceri had at least one cantina, there was a landmark grain silo at the edge of town, and it was big enough to host a bustling market square, despite being described as more of a trading post than a town. There they could buy, among other things, preserved vegetables, engine parts, and local triple-distilled tihaar, which could double as degreaser for said engine parts.

If they needed more than Enceri had to offer, they could go south to Keldabe. Landmarks of note there included the River Kelita and the Oyu’baat tavern. The Imperial garrison was located near Keldabe.

“But then Mandalore itself was one big contradiction, with heavy industry and shipbuilding sitting cheek-by-jowl with farms that hadn't changed in centuries, sophisticated electronics and ancient metalworking skills side-by-side in the same suit of armor.”

Established clan homes seem to be the usual way of things despite Mandalorians supposedly being nomadic. Their “temporary” structures being wattle and daub also indicates the nomad thing to be a bit of a fallacy. Even so, they had planned a possible relocation for Kyrimorut in the worst case, a bolt-hole on Cheravh. Jaing had taken to calling it offsite hot standby.

So that’s Kyrimorut, which means Final Haven, where Kal Skirata and his chosen family hunkered down in the aftermath of Order 66. My friend says it’s basically Aberdeen, down to the detail of players getting plastered mid footie limmie game. I gathered these details from four books (Hard Contact does not mention Kyrimorut) and compiled them for anyone who’d like to make use of the rundown. Oya!

[kenziebluex]

The Broken Heart That Makes Us

Semi short chapter..but updating again on "Friday" ☺️

Story Description: 

Your arranged marriage is on its last legs. After making an agreement with your step son, Megumi, you are puzzled when you are faced with finally making a decision.

Your whole life so far has been planned for you, leading you to struggle with the idea of moving on and finding something stable…someone stable.  

Will you finally be able to let go of the life that was made for you? Will there be others out there willing to pick up the pieces?

(18+) Pairings: Toji, Gojo, Geto, Nanami, & Choso.

Read on ao3: TBHTMU

Chapter 5:

A few months passed after you started dating Gojo. It seemed like he always had a fresh surprise every time you went to see him. After that night with the loan shark,  Gojo kept insisting that you and Megumi should stay with him until everything was sorted out. But, you declined. Abandoning a new place you took so long to secure and messing up Megumi’s stable life was not something you wanted to do. Besides, leaving all your problems to a man you just started seeing was not a step you were willing to take. Gojo warned you that the man would come back and set up a security system with a ring camera to protect you. 

He was right.

The loan shark did come back the next week and with more company. But Gojo caught wind of it and took care of everything. The men were right outside your door before you came home with Megumi from school. The ring camera reported them knocking at your door. The feed glitched and the surveillance was down for no more than 5 minutes. When it came back up, the men were gone and you haven’t heard from them since. Gojo had sent a message to you afterwards stating…

:Get home safe <3

You figured that there are many things better left unsaid.

But what was more promising was how much Megumi improved. He started taking private lessons and was preparing to test for a higher level soon. You adored  when he was excited to demonstrate a new technique that he learned. You wanted to believe that everything was finally falling into place but that growing pit of uncertainty still swelled in your stomach. 

You can admit that there was never a dull moment with Gojo and he never fails to melt your icy walled exterior. But lately, it feels stagnant…or rather one sided; romantically and sexually. You wanted to learn more and to give him time to open up to you. But even after all the months you spent with him, you haven’t learned much more since the first date. It was frustrating and sexually frustrating. He was a demon with his hands and tongue and the strained groans from his mouth always drove you wild but…is foreplay all that he wants from you?

You tried plenty of times to get him to move forward but most of the time it ends in a forehead kiss and an exhausted cuddle. And you don’t want to just outright say-

‘Don’t you want to fuck me?!’

Semi-afraid of what the response would be. You’ve touched, stroked and sucked him off at least a hundred times and you’re sure it would fit with the right preparation. But all of the times where he softly rejected it stung and you felt your insecurities building up one by one. 

Pillowy lips kissed your temple  and snapped you out of your trance. Your body jerked at Gojo’s peck. Your hands were interlocked while you two strolled through the bustling city square. You locked eyes with him while he straightened his back, realigning himself.

“You’re gonna combust from thinking so hard. Let me see if I can guess what’s on your mind.” Gojo tapped his bottom and pondered for a beat. You tightened your lips into a pout waiting for what nonsense he has for you today. 

“Ah yes…I would still love you if you were a worm.” He sang and used his free hand to pinch at your cheek and tugged on it teasingly. You rolled your eyes.

“Yer sohh yameee (lame)” You whined. Gojo released your cheek to cover his mouth, housing a hearty laugh. He stopped to pull you into a deep kiss in the middle of the sidewalk. The kiss was long and you could feel the passion building between the two of you. But your earlier thoughts crept up on you and your passion quickly dissipated. 

You parted first and Gojo stared down at you in a lustful trance. He gave a gentle squeeze of your hand before continuing your stroll. He didn’t seem bothered by the fact that you cut the kiss short. 

Suddenly, your eyes caught something familiar. There was a notice on the road that leads to your home. 

Season 3 of That Time I Fell In Love With My Mafia Boss’s Brother is filming soon. Please prepare to take a detour route during these dates…

“Oh…my…FUCKING GOD! OH MY GOD OH GOD!! They are filming HERE?!? I thought they were out of the country but they-.” Your favorite trashy tv drama was not only greenlit for a season 3 but filming right around the corner from your house! This show, although wildly unrealistic, hit home for you and helped to heal some of the wounds from your divorce. You were too busy dancing, jumping and clapping to notice that you let go of Gojo’s hand.  

You whipped your body towards him, searching for his reaction. Gojo stood with an amused smirk on his face and crossed arms.

“No please. Don’t stop on my account.” He threw his arms up. You took him and pulled him by his arm excitedly to get a closer read of the notice. He followed you lazily.

“I absolutely love the lead actress in this. Everything she acts in goes triple platinum in my household. Instant replay!” You beamed. You approached the notice that was plastered firm on the brick wall. You traced the small print with your index finger and read it out loud. 

“Join the cast and crew Friday night for a welcoming party at CTV Nightclub. Fans are invited for pictures and signing. First come, first served! Hit tv show directed by Yu Haibara and produced by Suguru Geto introduces action meets romance in a thriller-ack!” 

Before you could finish reciting the words on the poster. Gojo snaked his arm around your shoulders and dragged you away from the poster. He kept his arm around you and guided your steps forward, preventing you from turning around. His hand on your shoulder was tight and you looked up to see his once bright blue eyes were shadowed by his pale locks. 

“Garbage tv rots your brain.” Gojo mumbled, still holding you close. 

“But babe… I HAVE to go to this welcoming party. I’ll never know if I get the opportunity to see her again. You’re …coming with me right?” You batted your lashes. Granted, most of the time it didn’t work but you were going to get your fave actress to sign your poster so you could preserve it for future generations. Plus, you wanted to share this moment with him. You thought maybe if you shared a part of yourself with him, he would want to open up more. 

Gojo’s eyebrows furrowed. He loosened his grip around your arm and scratched the back of his head, seemingly frustrated. 

“Friday night…I have an instructors meeting. I might be late.” Gojo explained with an awkward smile. You nodded reassuringly. 

“I’ll wait for you there.” You took his hand and folded it in yours to bring his knuckles to your lips. “I really want you there with me.” 

A small tint of red appeared on his cheeks and he curled his fingers around your hand to bring to his lips.

“I’m whipped for you. You know that? I’ll go, your majesty.” He chuckled into your knuckles before planting another kiss on your wrist and then another on your jawline. You continued down the sidewalk with a new pep in your step. Gojo started going on about his colleagues at the dojo. You took one more glance behind you where the notice was, dreaming of what Friday will bring.

It seems that the notice had garnered the attention of another person. A man, tall, long black hair that cascaded down his shoulders and brushed his back. Black piercings. Sporting casual wear and black sunglasses. He loitered close while reading the fine print at the bottom of the notice. He paused and he looked towards you. He took his sunglasses off to get a better look at you as his feline slit eyes pierced yours. 

An entertained smile painted his lips and you quickly turned your head away startled. Gojo didn’t notice so you tried your hardest to push the image of that man out of your memory.

_________

Today’s mission: seduce your man. The meet and greet is at a nightclub and you’ve been dying to wear the new dress you bought from Revolve. It’s an emerald green mesh wrap around dress that crossed into an X over your chest and held up in a halter around your neck. The dresses had a high slit that barely graced the top of your thigh. You wore gold bangles on each wrist with matching gold sandal heels. 

The dress was perfect for highlighting your hips and legs and you made sure to oil them up to look moisturized and shiny. You let your hair fall behind you as you fanned the glue on your long false lashes. 

You stepped out of your room and into the kitchen to grab your car keys from the counter.

“*Click*” You turned to see Megumi holding up his phone. You struck a pose and he clicked another photo before shoving his phone into his pocket.

“Don’t forget curfew and don’t drink. If you do, call an Uber home.” He nagged and you shook your head. You thought to yourself that you should probably be teaching him how to drive soon. 

“I may not come back home tonight. And if I do-…” you huffed and Megumi crossed his arms and nodded his head.

“I’ll make sure to heat up the pizza, open a fresh box of tissues and get ‘Me Before You’ on.” He says and you dig your hand into his spiky hair to make a mess of it. It occurred to you that he might be going through a massive growth spurt. Two years ago you were still able to look down when talking to him but now, he’s passing your height while you’re in heels. You felt your heart strings tug a little bit and you blinked the tears away. 

You  clicked your heels towards the door and told Megumi a set of things to do while you're out such as: locking the door, checking the security camera and by no means opening the door for anyone. Megumi nodded lazily hearing the usual nightly checklist. 

“Have a nice night, mom. I love you.” 

“I love you too, Meg.”

✿❀○❀✿

As you thought, there was already a line out the door to CTV nightclub by the time you arrived (even though you are 30 minutes early). You braced the wait and headed to the back of the line, vowing to save a place for when Gojo arrives. 

An hour goes by while you’re waiting in line and you can see the bouncer in sight. The entire time, you kept opening your  phone for any missed calls or text messages. Gojo said he would be late. You reassured yourself until you finally got a call.

Incoming call: Mr Blue Sky 

“Hey babe! I’m up near the door.” You spoke with the phone up to your ear, stretching your neck to see if you can spot his motorcycle parked anywhere. He took too long to respond and you called over the phone to him again.

“I don’t think I can make it work.” He responded hesitantly. Talking  over the phone makes it hard to read his expression. You felt your heart sink a little. You figured he probably couldn’t get out of the meeting and didn’t want you to wait for him. You expelled a disappointed sigh. 

“No, I get it. It was too last minute anyway. I can still swing by yours when I’m done.” You tried to brave through the disappointment but it was too late. Warm tears sprinkled in your eyes. He took another long pause. Something that wasn’t like him. Generally, he liked to fill up the awkward silence with his voice but he didn’t try to bother this time.

“I meant…I mean that I don’t think I can make us work. I’m sorry.” you heard his voice crack. The tears in your eyes started rolling down your cheeks. The insecurities that’s been building a monster within you finally awakened and your chest tightened. You deluded yourself into thinking you misheard. 

“What are you trying to say to me right now?!” Your voice raised. The tears won’t stop flowing and you swore your head was spinning so bad it might twist off. You felt your body lose strength as you held the wall to maintain your balance. After a few seconds, he hung up on you. 

You started dialing his number over and over again. The first two times it rang and then it went to voicemail. The next 3 times it went straight to voicemail. He blocked you. You felt your mind stuck between staying in line and getting the autograph you came for, going home and crying yourself to unconsciousness or driving to his place and knocking his door down until the cops show up. 

You decided that the last two could wait so you stayed in line. But that didn’t stop you from calling every contact you had for him.

Sorry for the angst... updating Friday who's ready for the next guy???

taglist: @beetusbritt ❤ @nousija ❤ @notleclerc divider by @cafekitsune

❀ follow for more ❀ ao3: kenzieblue❀

-kenzie & des

[iamthebastard2017]

The radio Call

The ER radio crackled to life " Inbound, 65 year old female, full arrest, unknown down time" The ER staff became a sense of organized chaos, quickly donning their gowns and gloves, while making ready the resuscitation suite.

In the ambulance the EMTs and fire personnel were administering CPR, cardiac drugs, and life sustaining oxygen hru the Ambu bag. Deep concise compressions one after the other in the center of her chest. All the while they kept an eye on the EKG hoping for a sign of life. Her nude petite frame Shook under the deep thrust in the center of her breast. Still asystole rolled across the screen.

Her husband had arrived home after her, hearing the shower running he made his way up the stairs. Rounding the corner at the top he was Met with the sight of his wife lying naked on the bathroom floor. Her lips were blueish purple, and her eyes open wide showing her pupils fully dilated, her skin was a pale Ashen gray. He quickly felt for a pulse a he dialed 911, but there was nothing, no pulse no breathing. He quickly rolled her flat and gave to breaths, watching as her chest and ample mature breast rose and fell. He quickly repositioned himself straddling her at the waist, interlocking his hands he started compressions, as he thrust his body weight down between her breast he could hear the cartilage an ribs popping, gradually becoming less and less. He continued CPR until the EMTs arrived, the bathroom was to cramped for adequate life saving measures to take place. He watched as they grabbed both arms and her legs carried her limp lifeless body to the more open hallway. Her body folded easily an her head hung limply to the side. Back on the floor EMT 1 began compressions once more as EMT 2 attached the monitor electrodes and wires.

Holding CPR they viewed the monitor she was in ine vfib, pulling the defibrillator from its case they set the joules, covered the steel plates with conducting gel and placed them on her chest. CLEAR, the shock jolted her body which shuddered as the electricity shot across her heart. Immediately she fell into full arrest.

Now as they drove to the hospital there had been no change for 10 minutes, constantly under CPR. Her eyes still wide and dilated, stared blankly back at EMT 1 as he squeezed the Ambu bag. Her body jolted and shuddered under the relentless deep compressions.

After 15 minutes they arrived, the doors of the ambulance were thrown open and the gurney slid out. Donnthe hallway they rushed to the resuscitation suite, all the while EMT 2 gave one handed compressions, her stomach distended as her breast bone caved in on her still lifeless heart. Once in the suite they lifted her limp body on the resuscitation bed, which had a built-in pad which arched her back allowing easier airway management. Immediately a trauma nurse began compressions again as others flooded her veins with medication. They injected bicarb in large doses to create higher volumes within her circulatory system. 10 minutes after arrival she moved from asystole to vfib, the paddles were readied and charged. Placing one above her right breast and the other on her left side just below her breast, the attending doctor pushed into her pale skin and released the joules across the heart.

A thud was heard as the paddles discharged, the muscles in her torso tightened as her arms drew in and upward towards her chest, then fell limp to the side of the resuscitation bed. As cpr resumed her arms slowly swayed back and forth in rhythm of the compressions. With each Thrust downward her breast rolled inward to the caving chest as her stomach distended outward. Her whole body shook and shuddered under the relentless effort of the staff.

Again they opted to shock her quivering heart,

[samoankpoper21]

With Love, Oikawa

A/N Still reeling from the loss of my cousin '^^ It's not an easy experience to lose someone, it never will be. Surround yourselves with your loved ones, tell them you love them daily because you never know when they'll pass. I'm glad I was able to tell my cousin that I loved him before he passed so please don't mind this post '^^ I just needed to get this out of my system ^^ hope that makes sense and as usual hope y'all enjoy this drabble. T/W: Small mention of unaliving oneself

Word count: 1880

It was a freak accident. At least that's how the doctor's described it.

Morning of you woke up and your inner being was off, something felt misaligned. You peered over to your smirking husband as he reached over to tuck a stray hair behind your ear. "Morning love."

"Morning." you whispered. Years of dating and 2 years of marriage Oikawa could sense when something was bothering you. His eyebrows scrunched together studying your face. "What's wrong?" Taking a shaky breath you answered, "Honestly I don't know. I woke up feeling...weird."

"Anything I can do to alleviate that weirdness?" he wiggles his eyebrows suggestively pulling you closer to him. You giggle giving him an eskimo kiss. "I'm sure it's nothing babe." You both lay there staring at each other, the love for one another apparent in your eyes. He sighs contently kissing your forehead. "What did I do to deserve you?" you hum in response. "Come on babe, gotta get ready for work." He groaned, interlocking your legs together. "Gimme 5 more minutes. 5 more minutes."

"Babe I would love to but I have an important meeting today." He pouted hugging you impossibly tighter. You couldn't resist his pouty face so you chuckled, hugging him back promising, "5 minutes top Toru."

"Yes!"

15 minutes had passed and Oikawa was walking you to the door watching as you slipped your flats on. "What do you feel like eating for dinner babe?"

"You know I'm fine with-you know what, scratch that. Maybe bone broth soup? It's starting to get cold."

"Ok love, I'll get it from that shop in town."

"You're a god send."

"You're just now realizing." You pinched his arm pulling him close. Leaning down to your height, cupping your face, he says, "I love you you know that? Not more than myself but you're alright." You giggled lightly smacking his arm. "I guess you're alright too." He pecked you once, twice, the third time his arms snaking around your plush waist pulling you close, your hands instantly weaving in his light brown locks, his cologne and scent filling your nostrils. "Okay, okay I have to go. Seriously Toru." Trying to pry his arms away from you he pouted dramatically. "What am I gonna do without you for 8 whole hours?"

"Babe you're more than enough entertainment for yourself. Chill."

"You're right. I am pretty awesome." Chuckling, shaking your head, you gave him a quick peck again turning around to wave at him. "I love you."

"Love you more."

The meetings seemed to drag forever. You just wanted to rush home into your husband's arms as he held you. Just one more hour. This was the mantra that was getting you through this work week. It finally hit 5PM and you rushed to the kiosk swiping your card. "Bye everyone! Have a good weekend! Good work today!" you rushed out bowing to your superiors before rushing to your car pushing on the accelerator. Pulling into the driveway you noticed Toru's car not there. Probably went to get dinner. Stepping out you couldn't help but notice how eerily quiet your neighborhood was. Usually there would be some type of noise but everything was...still. You tried shaking off the anxious, dreadful feeling that stayed with you since the morning but it just wouldn't dissipate. Slipping off your shoes at the entrance you changed into your house slippers when the shrill notes of your ringtone broke the silence. Frowning at the unrecognized number you debated on whether you should ignore the call but something in you urged, nagged, you to pick up. "Hello?"

"Hello is this Mrs. Oikawa?"

"This is she."

"My name is Ito Asahi. I'm calling from Midori hospital in regards to your husband." With a quivering voice and shaky hands you ask, "Is...is he ok?"

"Your husband was involved in an accident."

"I don't-I don't understand." the dispatch cleared his throat, clearly uncomfortable with the news he was about to deliver. "Mrs. Oikawa, your husband was hit head on by a drunk driver and was pronounced dead-" the phone dropped, everything sounding muffled, your breathing ragged. You clutched at your chest, tears falling down your eyes, trying to focus on what to do next. Why was it so got damn hard to breathe? "Mrs. Oikawa? Mrs. Oikawa? Mrs. Oikawa?!" Ito's voice slowly brought you back, your hearing now accompanied by a ringing in your ear. "He...he's dead?"

"I'm sorry." you broke down sobbing clutching at your chest. Fumbling for your phone you dialed Hajime. "Hey Y/N-chan."

"Ha-Hajime," your voice broke.

"Y/N? What's wrong? Are you ok? Is everything ok?"

"T-T-Toru,"

"What about him? Did he hurt you?" shaking your head you continued. "T-T-Toru -hic- i-is -hic gone. -hic- He's gone Hajime!" The sound of shoes fumbling and keys being thrown into a pocket could be heard when Hajime blurts out, "Stay there I'm coming to get you."

Hajime found you sitting on the floor in the dark staring numbly ahead. Gently he helped you up, put on your shoes and coat, and asked where Oikawa was. Surprisingly you were able to utter, "Midori Hospital." The drive there was silent, Hajime having already called your mother-in-law. You watched as the green trees and pink hued sky zoomed by, your ears still ringing. The emergency room doors slid open, the bustling of the the patients being wheeled past and nurses zooming by brought you back to the present. You could hear monitors beeping, the intercom paging a doctor to the maternity ward, nurses taking note of vitals from patients sitting out in the lobby. Hajime lead you to the reception area stating, "Hello. We're looking for an Oikawa Toru." the nurse quickly clacked away at her keyboard when she affirms, "Go through the double doors on your left hand side, his room is 1-B which will be on your right. We were waiting for next of kin before wheeling him away."

"Thank you."

You were numb. Everything felt off. It was as if your body was merely a shell and you were just a third party watching, observing as you and Hajime made your way to his room. With shaky hands, Hajime slowly peeled the green curtains back only to find Oikawa's lifeless form covered by a white and green plaid blanket. "Oi," Hajime's voice broke. "Oi trashy-kun wake up. Wake up! Oikawa Toru wake up!" the sobs began racking through Hajime's body, you began rubbing his back. Shortly after your mother-in-law appeared beside you, her shrill wailing piercing the air, your tears silently falling.

The funeral procession went by smoothly and quickly, you being on autopilot. Former and present teammates came to wish their condolences. You instantly recognized the short, orange haired wing spiker and Oikawa's junior setter looking down cast for the first time. "Thank you for being here." you mutter. Numbly you watched as the casket lowered into the ground, the thud of the casket deafening. Iwaizumi escorted you home. "Are you sure you'll be ok Y/N-chan?"

"I'll be fine thank you Hajime."

"Are you sure? If you need anything-"

"I just...I just need time alone." Worried he gave you one last glance before engulfing you in a hug. "Call me? For anything."

"I will." The door silently clicked close as you dragged your feet towards your shared bedroom. Plopping down on the bed you clutched and inhaled Oikawa's San Juan jersey. You got a whiff of his scent and cologne, the dam you tried to hold in your chest finally bursting. Your sobs came out in waves racking your whole body folding the jersey within the confines of your pudgy body, your chest.

4 months later

Since Oikawa's passing you have been on leave for bereavement; you weren't ready to face work, reality really. Hajime and your mother-in-law made it a habit to check in on you; concerned when you brought it to their attention that you would be taking a trip to Kamakura. You reassured them that you would be okay and that you had no intention of ending your life. Walking the shores of Kamakura you peered out towards the ocean with Oikawa's jersey in your beach bag. Laying your towel down in a spot near the shade, you took out your notebook, his jersey and began journaling.

Hi babe, it's me again. It's been 4 months since you've been gone and I can't say that it's getting easier. Hajime and mom have been checking up on me regularly, making sure that I put a little something in my stomach, especially on the days that I don't feel like it. Remember babe when you promised me that we would go to the beach? You kept telling me about how beautiful the beaches in San Juan were and how they don't compare to your beauty so I'm taking a solo trip to Kamakura. I figured this beach is probably on par as San Juan and your essence ha ha ha. How are you? I miss you. I'm taking it minute by minute, the whole bullshit about taking it day by day is hard. As each day comes to a close it gets hard to sleep because I'm always expecting you to come through the door yelling, 'Baaaaaaabeeee I'm hooooooomeeeee.' Each day has its struggles. Some days I'm okay, other days I find myself sobbing nonstop, others I sit there numbly staring at the wall. Pathetic huh? I just know you're probably giving me shit about not doing things extravagantly ha ha ha When is this gonna end? This empty feeling I mean. Since you left there's a gaping hole in my heart that will be tough to fill. Tough but not impossible. You wouldn't be you if you didn't leave me with a little surprise. I found out earlier this week that I'm pregnant. We're having a boy baby! Can you believe it?! When the doctor told me I had tears of joy, sadness, and just remember this feeling of being scared. How am I gonna do this without you? :(( I'm thinking of naming our son either Touki for winter pleasure since that's when he's due or Towa for eternal peace; I'm leaning towards Towa kekeke Oikawa Touki? Oikawa Towa? Has a funny ring to it ^^ What do you think? I've already told mom and Hajime that I have news for them once I get back home late tonight. I want them to be the first to know. I miss you babe. I love you. I will tell our son all about how flamboyant, egotistical, loving, and romantic his dad was and how amazing of a setter you were. Are you playing up there? Wherever you are. Every time I see a clear, starry night it takes me back to when you asked me to marry you^^ Sorry. I know I'm going all over the place but I just really, really, really wanted to let you know that I love you. so so very much. And I miss you more than words can describe. Talk to you later. Sending kisses to the sky. Wait for me my love. I have a lot of work to do here before I can join you^^ love love love you. With love, Y/N.

[imtooscaredforthis]

Entrapment

Chapter Thirty One: Bullseye

Mentions of: PTSD, Traumatic memories, Death, sexual themes, choking, canon typical violence, etc.

A/N: Sorry for the wait, but hopefully this chapter can make up for it <3

Tags: @elentiyaiswriting @dead-bxxxtch-walking @mama-miya @vandeaad @the-fandoms-georgie

After everything that was going on, a week off felt heavenly. You should worry about what Ghostface’s next move was, who he was going to hurt next when he was coming after you again, but you could hardly care. After all, he killed your friend, stalked you, attacked you, taunted you, and violated you. How much worse could it get? What more could you lose?

There was the resounding fear of Jed getting hurt, but he hadn’t left your side the whole time you were here. For the past few days, you’ve been at a fancy hotel in Miami. You drank and had sex, and ordered room service and had more sex…and it was nice. It was nice to not be in constant fear, to not worry about anything, to not care. It felt good.

Tonight, the two of you were going out to a nice restaurant down the block, finally leaving your hotel for the first time in three days. It was some fancy Italian place that was highly recommended.

You walked with Jed, arms interlocked, giggling at the ridiculous story he was telling you. Your gaze drifted from him to the buildings surrounding you, tall almost-skyscrapers, that were lit up, even in the dead of night. Faces blurred by as countless people walked past, crowding you, bumping, and walking around you. You enjoyed the business of the nightlife. All the people around made you feel safe. You’ve always loved the city, after all.

The entrance had one of those ornate revolving doors, making you grin as Jed pushed it open. “Ooooh very fancy.”

He smiled at you from over his shoulder in response, taking your hand when you entered. The lobby was crowded, full of families and couples and business partners.

“I didn’t realize how busy it was tonight. Wait here.” He let go of your hand, walking over to the hostess stand.

You watched him walk over and talk to the employee. A woman, with black hair and brown eyes who looked oddly familiar. Then, it hit you. Lucia. She looked just like Lucia. Memories flashed through your mind of you working and talking with her, and then..images of her lifeless body. Her face was pale, her eyes open and empty, the wounds on her chest, the blood spilling from her lips. The blood. So much blood.

Your chest felt tight as guilt, dread, and panic worked its way through your system. You felt sick. Like you wanted to throw up. Like you couldn’t breathe. Like you were dying yourself.

The sound of Jed calling your name pulled you out of your thoughts, snapping you back to reality. “Hey, you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. I could really use a drink, though.”

“Me too.” He smirked, wrapping his arm around your shoulder and giving you a small squeeze. “Don’t worry, the wait should be twenty minutes at most.”

You plastered on a smile. “That’s perfect.”

–

Once you got to your table, Jed ordered you both a drink as promised, two glasses of their finest rose. Then he excused himself to go off to the bathroom, leaving you to handle being ID'd. You felt around your pockets for your wallet, realizing you left it back at the hotel room. (Jed insisted on paying for everything, even though you have no clue how he could afford it. Regardless, it became a force of habit, and you forgot all about bringing your wallet with you.)

You gazed at the spot across the table, spotting Jed’s wallet sitting there. You popped it open, pulled out his driver’s license, and handed it to the waiter. “Here. He’s the one ordering the drinks.”

The waiter thanked you, and after giving the ID a look or two, he handed it back to you. You slipped it back into his wallet and went to put it back on his side of the table before you felt something..a lump.

Curious, you pulled the wallet back to you, opening it up. Most of it seemed normal. Thirty dollars in cash, an old video club membership card..but then there was a lump. It contained a folded picture. You recognized the person. A young woman..the one who stirred up the headlines. Ghostface’s first victim.

Why would Jed have this? Why would he want to have this? He had mentioned Ghostface sending him pictures..but why would he want to keep it? Why would he want to remember the pain Ghostface caused? The people he hurt? The start of it all? Maybe as writing motivation? But it felt weird..really weird.

Your fingers moved over the lump, and you felt around it, finding the lump under his driver’s license. Another driver’s license, from Utah.

It had a photo of him..but his hair is different. Black instead of dark brown. Some more stubble on his chin. You looked over at the name.

Danny Johnson.

Danny.

Danny baby, call me Danny.

Before the realization could fully hit you, you saw Jed in your periphery, approaching the table. You shoved the contents back into his wallet and hid it under the table, on your lap. Right as he got back, the waiter approached the table, bringing you and Jed your drinks.

He brought the glass to his lips, taking a few long sips. You sat there, frozen, unsure what to say or do. Do you scream, do you run, do you fight? How could this have been him the whole time? How could you have not seen it? When it was right in front of you? How could you be so stupid?

“Hey, you better drink up. That’s expensive wine I’m paying for.” He teased.

“Right.” You smiled shakily, reaching over to grab the glass. Your nerves were so frayed that you accidentally knocked it over, causing it to spill all over the white tablecloth, some of it splashing onto his shirt.

“Shit.” He muttered under his breath, grabbing a napkin to dab at it.

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine. Are you okay? You’re trembling.”

“Y-yeah. I’m fine. I think I ate something weird, from earlier.” You slipped his wallet into your purse, getting to your feet. “I’m going to run to the bathroom.”

You walked slowly away, sparing a glance over your shoulder, trying to act normal until you could get somewhere safe. Jed was still staring at you, like a watchdog. Something in his eyes darkened. He knew. He slowly got to his feet, following after you.

You took off. You sprinted out of the restaurant, bumping into people as you left, ignoring their anger and annoyance. You had to get help. You needed to call the police. You ran over to a phone booth, looking over your shoulder constantly. He was hot on your heels. He sprinted after you, and right before you could even grab the phone, he grabbed your arm and dragged you out of the booth, into a neighboring alleyway. You opened your mouth to scream, but he covered it with his hand.

You bit him, making him let you go. “You little bitch. Always gotta be so damn stubborn, huh?”

You made it two steps before he pulled you back by the hair, wrapping his arm around your neck and putting you in a chokehold. You clawed and fought against him, gasping for air, but he was too strong.

“Should’ve known you would’ve figured me out sooner or later, clever girl. I was hoping to at least wait until this weekend, so we could have a nice time together. It’s a shame. But now, the real fun can start.”

You could feel the oxygen leaving your lungs, burning as you tried to breathe. Your vision got darker and darker until it all went black.

[luvfy0dor]

Hi there! How are you doing? I have a bit of a specific request, so if you feel like it’s too much, feel free to decline (:

May I please request a Fyodor x Male! Reader fluff fic? The reader is a scientist and for a particular experiment, he needs to map out the bones of the human body because the experiment calls for extremely precise work and he doesn’t want to hurt himself. So! Because his boyfriend is Fyodor ‘needs-to-remember-to-eat’ Dostoevsky, he decides to use Fyodor as his mapping system so when he does perform his experiment later on, he can do so without to risk of injury.

Here's where the fluff comes in (coming from an ex-med student who’s had to do this XD). Reader has to mark the bones on Fyodor’s body with a marker in order to see properly. As you can imagine, having a marker dragged across places where your nerves collect is ticklish as hell XD. So it turns into a battle of Fyodor trying not to giggle and move away from the marker while a very very mused reader tries to complete the bone map. Sooner or later the mapping is forgotten and the reader just tickles Fyodor to pieces (and perhaps writes a few teasing words on him) ‘in the same of science’. I speak from experience here, it’s the single most flustering thing in the history of ever.

If you feel you cannot do this, don’t stress yourself, it’s all cool. You can decline the request or alter the plot. Whatever’s easier for you ^^. Have a nice day!

“'Till Your Bones Feel Embarrassed From all The Attention ♡” Fyodor Dostoevsky x Male!Reader ੈ✩‧₊˚

Warnings; Soft/Silly Fyodor, only proofread to an extent

Description; Reader is a scientist creating a map of the human body, and his boyfriend agrees to help him. When reader starts tracing his bones though, he can't keep himself calm.

A/n; BYE THIS IS THE CUTEST THING IN THE ENTIRE WORLD I saw this during my gym class and I got so excited ajsjfjej im sorry if any of this is incorrect, I'll change it if need be! I don't know all that much about anatomy and bones and stuff 😞

ೃ⁀➷

For a particular experiment you were going to perform, you would need a bone map. You thought it would be a little awkward to ask one of your work peers to use their body for refrence, and no one was in the immediate area with you, so your conclusion was go home and ask your boyfriend to be your subject! After work, ofcourse. You sat on the thought for a while, occasionally having second thoughts, but at the same time what's the harm? What reason could he have to deny you? None.

So, you drove home confidently, entering the house with a smile and hanging your jacket. "Fyodor! I'm home!" You called out to him, walking through the house. Just as you reached for the handle of your bedroom door, he opened it. "Welcome home." He greets with a familiar soft smile, lifting your chin to pull you into a kiss. You accepted it with open arms and brushed your fingers through some of his hair. You pulled away after a moment, then interlocked your fingers with his. "Can i ask you a favor?" You questioned, tilting your head a bit as you observed his beautiful face. He hummed with a small nod, one of his hands on the small of your back. "Can I trace your bones through your skin?" He raised an eyebrow. "What for?"

"An experiment, I would do it to myself but that would be really difficult and probably hurt. And I'm not gonna ask that of my coworkers." You say, your eyes averting. "Which is exactly why you should let me do it to you. It won't hurt." You say, giving him the most reassuring smile you can muster. He blinks before talking. "Alright, if it's for you I suppose I don't mind." You smile and grab his hand, leading him to the living room. You grab a black marker from the kitchen quickly before returning to you boyfriend who was sitting cross legged on the floor, his ushanka on the nearby coffee table. You sit on your knees next to him, putting the marker down and starting to unbutton his shirt. Once it's completely undone, you toss it onto the coffee table as well. Uncapping the marker, you softly push Fyodor onto his back to lay down, a chill running down his spine as his skin hits the hardwood floor.

"Sorry, Fedya, I'll try to make it as quick as possible." He shakes his head as you bring the tip of the marker to his shoulder. "It's fine, it's for a good purpose, is it not?" He replies. Your legs are on either side of his waist as you straddle him, leaned in for as much precision as possible while one of his hands rests on your thigh. As you drag the felt tip along his skin, he deeply inhales, trying to suppress his giggles. His eyes are closed and his cheeks are tinted red while the ink stains his skin. The further down his chest you go, the clearer it becomes that your boyfriend is a little ticklish. You can't help but grin as you watch his body instinctively try to squirm away from the marker. You go to trace over his ribs and his back arches a little, the soft sound of his snickers make you grin and hold him down by pressing on his belly gently.

"Hey, you can't keep squirming like that! You're only makin' things harder for yourself." You say with a smirk, continuing to press the marker against his skin, drawing the curves of his ribs while his legs tense up with every movement. At some point, his head is thrown back while he tries to not violently shake with laughter. Seeing Fyodor in a silly and more vulnerable light warmed your heart, you truly felt lucky to get this side of him. His face was pretty red when he looked back up at you, seemingly having tears stuck to his eyelashes in suck a beautiful way. You assessed your work with your hands on your hips and nodded. You lifted yourself off of his lap a little and he seemed to have a bit of relief on his face.

"W-We're done, moya lyubov?" He asked while catching his breath. You shook your head, smirking as you twirled your finger in a circle. "No, you gotta turn over so I can do your back; I don't know how quick this marker dries though.." you say, raising an eyebrow and pressing one finger to a line and lifting it, smiling at the lack of transfered ink. "Alright, go on." You say, waiting for him to roll over. He does, resting his head on his folded arms with a small exhale. You return to your spot and push his hair to the side while tracing the top bones in his spine. He immediately inhales harshly and bites his lip, once again attempting to ignore his ticklishness. You notice and grin, deciding to mess around a little to see his giggly side a bit more. You wrote out 'nerd' before his voice finally broke through his giggles. "I don't think that's the shape of my spine, my dear." He says, trying to look at you over his shoulder.

You give him a look of faux confusion, tilting your head and looking at the word. "Hmm...no, no I think that is, actually." Your nose scrunches up in a snicker. Fyodor can't help but smile ever so slightly. "What does it say that makes it so funny?" He questions, propping himself up at his elbows. "It says beautiful." You say, a Cheshire cat-like look on your pretty face. "I can tell you're lying, myshk-ah!" He's cut off by the marker again, his arms outstretching. His forehead is pressed against the floor while his entire body gently quakes with giggles under his breath. His fist pounds the ground quietly once or twice before you reach the middle of the bone structure.

"Is it really that ticklish?" You ask, laughing to yourself. He can only nod. "I think my Fyodor is just a bit dramatic." You say, putting the marker down and starting to tickle his sides. His breath audibly hitches and he tries to scrunch up his body to crawl away, only to no avail. "This was supposed to be for a science experiment! You're getting quite off task." He says through his very rare fit of laughter. Even the softest stroke to his lower back would make his entire body jerk, and it made you smile. He had managed to roll over, and tried to get your hands away from him, but he's not the strongest when it comes to his upper body, so ultimately you got him pinned back down. Through the fit of giggles, you found yourself having such a good time with your lover. It was very rare that something like this happened, but you both never minded it when it did.

Once you calmed down a bit, you peppered feather-soft kisses along Fyodors shoulders, having almost completely forgotten about the mapping. He quietly hummed, running a hand up and down your back. You had made your way to your bedroom and cuddled up next to him while he read a book. You watch his eyes scan the lines of text, your own occasionally reading some paragraphs or sentences. "Thank you fedya, your contributions so science will go a very long way." You say proudly, kissing his cheek. He quietly chuckles and nods. "I'm sure it will, Moya Lyubov. You're very smart after all. I trust that you'll put my utter suffering to good use." He says with a small smirk. "I was right, my Fyodor is very dramatic." You say with a laugh and roll your eyes. He just smiles and continues his reading as you rest your head on his shoulder, sleepily reading along with him.

A/N; Idk if y'all do it too but I rotate through words of the week, this week is "blawg". If someone replies to a msg I sent with a slightly aggressive tone; "blawg did not like that one!!" Also irl I audibly "!!" I'm sorry if y'all don't like "!!" But I can't stop it's ingrained in my blood atp.

[colinmkl]

Kamen Rider NRV Lore Dump!

Manticore

Manticore LLC is a major medical technology company. Publicly, they are most known for their artificial organs and limb prosthesis as well as several other medical devices and equipment used in hospitals worldwide. Less widely publicized are their numerous military contracts, developing cutting edge medical treatment technologies but also advanced weapons, drones, and other offensive hardware.

Nanoderm

The scientific breakthrough that lead Manticore to dominate in the field of med-tech is the invention of micro-sensors that are capable of reading brain signals in the nervous system and translating them into data a computer can interpret with absolute precision. These microscopic sensors can be integrated into programmable nanomachines that interlock in a mesh that forms durable skin-like material called Nanoderm.  If an exposed section of human tissue is covered in Nanoderm and then allowed to heal, the Nanoderm will become integrated with the tissue like a layer of natural skin. Any impulses or signals sent by the brain to that part of the body will be received by the Nanoderm and translated into data. That data can then be read as motor commands by a Manticore prosthesis. Basic prosthesis models can receive this data via magnetic nodes embedded in the surface of the Nanoderm but more advanced models, capable of finer dexterity/expanded functionality, require a “bone spike,” a rod-like data plug that interfaces with a port in the Nanoderm area that is connected to more advanced sensors. The socket and sensor hardware is imbedded in the body through a surgical procedure.

The catch with the Nanoderm system is it must be applied to the body before the exposed tissue heals over and the exposed nerve endings have a chance to close off, or in other words, while the wound is “fresh”, otherwise the healed tissue must be cut away and a fresh wound made. This means that in emergency situations a patient or their next of kin must make a snap decision to undergo the expensive Nanoderm compatibility surgery as part of their emergency treatment. Of course some insurance plans will cover some or all of this cost. Additionally Manticore has deals with some insurance providers that the surgery come standard with higher end coverage plans, forgoing the need for patient consent. Manticore has exclusive patent rights to the Nanoderm system, meaning once you are Nanoderm compatible, you are locked into the Manticore ecosystem of prosthesis and devices. Additionally your devises can only be serviced by Manticore certified technicians and only Manticore doctors are trained in Nanoderm patient care.

Remote Command (RC)

Manticore is a sprawling corporation with many secrets. One such secret is the Remote Command program. A project Manticore has been working on behind closed doors, the Remote Command program involves research into sending brain signals over great distances without a physical connection between the sensor and the receiving devise. With RC a person could control a prosthetic arm in another part of the world as though it were part of their body. This is achieved by broadcasting the impulses across a proprietary electromagnetic wave length to the receiving nodes. The signal travels point to point and back again at light speed. The potential RC has for the future of drone warfare is staggering, not to mention the potential for profit.

Sensitive as this information is, there’s another layer. All Nanoderm currently in use by people around the world is capable of receiving Remote Command. With the right inputs it can reshape its self, self-replicate, and even, under certain conditions, send signals back to the user’s brain, causing brain damage or, theoretically, controlling them. Whether this functionality of Nanoderm was an intentional feature or not is unknown to anyone currently employed at Manticore but the company has no pans currently to use the Nanoderm in this way. What is known, however, is that if this function ever becomes public knowledge it would be disastrous for Manticore, not to mention the chaos that would ensue if a bad actor were to exploit this function for malicious purposes.

Manticore Special Security (Spec-Sec)

Manticore LLC has secrets, and it has enemies. To protect its secrets, combat its enemies, address the threats to public safety those things pose, (and protect its corporate interests), Manticore formed the Manticore Special Security Division. More than just your standard private security outfit, Spec-Sec is a fully equipped task force and strike force designed to identify, target, track, confront, and nullify any threat to the company and its assets. Thanks to Manticore’s history of generous donations and good standing with local police forces, the Spec-Sec Division is able to operate with a certain degree of discretion, allowing them to carry out operations without interference from police or the legal system. Lead by Special Security Director Sloane, her hand-picked crack team of Special Officers have carried out dozens of high risk operations with ruthless efficacy and, so-far, minimal casualties. Spec-Sec utilizes the most cutting edge technology and weaponry Manticore has, often before it’s even close to market ready. In some cases necessity dictates that Spec-Sec operations serve as ad hoc field tests for experimental equipment.

Core Drivers, Data Boosters, and the Kamen Rider program

The Core Driver is a piece of technology that was developed as part of research into the use of Nanoderm to enhance a soldier’s physical performance on the battlefield. The concept was to temporarily cover the user’s entire body in a layer of Nanoderm mesh that could respond to the signals from the user’s brain in such a way that would increase their strength, speed, perception, and reflexes. The solution was the Core Driver, a device that would house the billions of Nanoderm nanomachines and serve as the computational core for the whole mesh network. Along with the Core Driver was the Data Booster, a flash drive-like device shaped like a syringe. The data booster contained the information that told the nanomachines to deploy from the Core Driver and cover the user. Additionally the Booster came with its own payload of nanomachines that, when the plunger of the syringe was depressed, would also be deployed through the Core Diver and take the form of armor and weapons. Basically, a user need only insert the Data Booster into the Core Diver, clearly speak a voice authentication phrase, and depress the plunger and they would instantly be wearing a powerful yet flexible armored body suit. The project was called the “Kamen Rider program” after the masked visage of the user’s armored faceplate (“Kamen” being the Japanese word for “mask”).

The Project had its drawbacks, however. For one a user would need to already be Nanoderm compatible for the suit to work at all, meaning, practically speaking, the user would need to be an amputee, and the prospect of convincing soldiers to sacrifice a limb to use the Driver was deemed a “hard sell” and the idea of a approaching a freshly maimed soldier with the offer of further combat, well, that wouldn’t be a good look either. The second and most important drawback was the simple fact that the Kamen Rider program was far, FAR too expensive to be profitable, and the thousands of man hours it took to produce just one Core Driver meant mass producing them to sell by the battalion, as Manticore had planned, was simply out of the question.

The Kamen Rider Program was not completely abandoned, however. The first completed Core Driver, designation SVR (Special Versatility Rider model or “Sever” colloquially) is currently coded to Director Sloane of Spec-Sec, who happens to be a double transfemeral amputee. With the Director’s input, the device and the suit itself have been modified heavily over its years of use. It now features the ability for additional Data Boosters to be employed, loaded with weapons and tools in the form of appendages that attach to highly advanced versions of Bone Spike sockets on the suit at the amputation sites of the Rider’s body. The nerve signal enhancing properties of the suit allows the Rider to manipulate these complex, non-human-like appendages with a natural ease and minimal adjustment period.

A second Core Driver has just recently been put to use in the field at Spec-Sec. The first Kamen Rider designed from the ground up with Spec-Sec modifications. Designation NRV (Neo Rider Variant or “Nerve” colloquially) is encoded to the Division’s newest member, Special Officer Nat Agbayani. A right shoulder disarticulation amputee, he was promoted to the Special Security Division from the internship program in the research wing by the COO of Manticore himself… wait what? That can’t be right…

The existence of any other Core Drivers, in use or otherwise, is classified.

Thanks for reading