#Hes fair hell only hit as much as hes been hit but if the dirty rules keep happening hell rise to it

[oodlesodoodles]

[eeunoia]

ENHYPEN Series

sinag — psh.

chapter five

pairings: park sunghoon x reader

synopsis: waiting for a great plot twist in your life, the ruthless and powerful mafia boss park sunghoon forced his way in to it.

word count: 3.5k

warnings: a contains harrassment, violence, guns, killings, abuse, obsessive love & other stuff. if you can't take this stuff, feel free to scroll away. let me know if i missed some.

note: hello, i hope you will enjoy this chapter and give me feedbacks. ily and thank you for reading my works. stay safe.

eeunoia 2024 © all rights reserved.

The man crawled slowly over the dirty street, trying to make a run for his life. He grunts as the injury and wounds to his whole body was inscrutable. He can hear multiple footsteps making sounds as they step into the puddles of rainwaters all over the place caused by the pouring rain. It made it colder and harder to breath.

He yelped in pain when someone stepped hardly over his back, pushing him further to the ground. Making him one with the dirty and wet street.

“Where the fuck do you think are you going?” his tone empty and devoid of emotions. It makes him scared and cries of plea follows right after.

He felt his head harshly pulled back by his hair as the man leaned down. To look at this brutal man’s eyes almost sent him down to hell. Despite being under the rain, blood splattered on his face painting his fair skin red.

“P-Please,” he begged.

The man showed no remorse and without a word, he slammed his head on the ground making him lose his consciousness completely.

“Aren’t you going to stop him?” Jake asks Jay as they watch their friend beat the shit out of this poor man.

Jay craned his neck to look at the scene and his reaction seems like he was pretty much used to it already. He shrugs his shoulder off while holding an umbrella to keep him from being drenched from the heavy rain. “Do you want to?”

Jake sighs and just silently watch their friend kicking the man on the ground. It was obvious that he was incapable to fight back or even shield himself from all the hit. He was unconscious, probably almost near his death.

Tonight, the three of them gathered to do some 'business' and since Sunghoon just came from his trip from another country, trying to find his girl, he's slightly on the bad mood. Slightly.

Jay and Jake were already covered in blood, but Sunghoon's showering over it. They couldn't just stop him because they know he somehow relieves stress this way. The look of murder on his eyes aren't fading just yet and they both knew it will last for a bit longer tonight.

“I thought you and Ni-ki are searching for her too?” Jay whispered lighting up another cigarette.

The other man sighs, “Yes. But its odd, we managed to find some informations about her but all of it was three years ago.”

It made Jay halt from taking a huff from his cigs before he tilts his head, “You mean its like she vanished?”

Jake nods his head. Even him find it uncanny how there's no more updates or informations about her whereabouts. Like she's purposely maintaining a low profile or someone is doing it for her? It made him confused and even made Ni-ki digs more deeply like as if that wasn't what the younger one was already doing.

“What if she's dead already?” Jay blurted while watching their friend let all his frustrations out.

“Hell will break lose,” Jake took a deep sigh, trying to relax his tensed shoulder. “Can you see him? He's a ticking time bomb and only her can defuse him.”

Jay smirks, “We really need to hope she's alive somewhere.”

“There's no records saying that she is dead so I think we're still good.”

They both nods their head and once again watch how their friend kill those unfortunate people who stands on his way. He was unstoppable, unable to be tamed. Right now, they knew they had to find you faster or else he will really lose his mind.

“Still nothing?” your head snaps to your side, shoulder slumped so low that shows so much of your disappointment.

You've been on a hunt for your new job for a month already and yet none of them calls back. Pretty sure its not the degree or experiences that sets as an issue to this matter. Your previous boss surely used his power to make your life miserable.

“Yes.”

Lucie stares at you with a look of pity before she sets down her glass of water. She trudges closer to where you are to try and console you. She can see how hard working you are and even if you haven't told her the full story yet, she knew it wasn't you who caused all the troubles.

“Why don't you just try applying on my previous work place? I mean, its not as big as your salary before, but its not a bad pay.”

Your eyes looks at her, “Yeah, maybe I should do that. Thank you so much Lucie.”

She smiles and caress your back. “No problem. I’ll send you the details for the HR department so you can send your resume.”

You nod your head and watch her walk back to the room adjacent to yours. Things may had been rough with you, but you are lucky enough to have her beside you. It's still amusing for you how she’s very nice. Guess its really true that whenever someone leaves and go, somebody will arrive on your life.

It wasn’t hard to get an interview appointment for the said company. It was a lot smaller than your old work, but that's fine. This isn't the time to be picky specially if you're starting to deplete your savings.

They replied with your said schedule of interview and the things you need to prepare for the application. It made you hopeful despite knowing the possibility of not being accepted again. These are the usual routine. You send your resume, they reply with your schedule for interview, interview you and then ask you to wait for nothing. Eitherway you let yourself hope and dressed up for it.

The company was discarding lots of employees for the past week now since they had a new boss. The information raised your expectation to be accepted since they're in need of people.

Your heart thumped inside your chest as you wait patiently for your turn. The ac was on, you're sure of it, but you're sweating cold. It was not a foreign feeling. Just like whenever a teacher asks you to recite something in front of everybody in your class or taking one of your biggest exams. It made your palms sweaty and your feet tapping lightly to the floor. It was a dreadful feeling.

On the other hand, Jake's eyes lazily watch the view from inside his vehicle. He felt his phone ringing so he fished it from his coat and answered.

“Dude, where are you?”

He sighs, “I’m going to work. What do you want, Jay?”

His friend's whine can be heard from the other line that tugs the corner of his lips upwards. “It's a saturday? Come on.”

“I can’t. I’m in the middle of rebuilding this new company I bought.”

“The one near your mall? Why did you even bought that when it doesn't even match your own companies?”

“It does have income and regenerating well for years now. I can check on what I can do to improve it and if not, I can just demolish and use the land to extend my mall.”

Jay lets out a sigh, he just couldn't believe how Jake is a monster in this field of work. He is pretty smart, he'll give him that, but when it comes to business he's on a different level. Mainly why most of their friends comes to him for advice.

“Fine, call me later after you finish playing with your toys.”

Jake chuckles, “All right.”

He ended the call just in time of their arrival at the said company. His men opens the door for him and the handsome bachelor steps outside proudly. He walks inside and workers started to greet him, paying full respect for him. His serious demeanor didn't falter and just head straight for the lift, going to his office.

As he arrives, line of people caught his attention. He was about to ask what's it all about when he remembered how he command for them to hire new employees after he dismissed most of them. He wanted this company working as to the way he wanted it to be. So those who are not in line with his vision, he gets rid of them.

“Mr. Sim.” his secretary for this company greets him with a flushing cheeks. He kept his placid expression and wait for what she's about to say.

“We already started to interview applicants for the job vacancies.” she said trying hard to check any positive reaction from him.

Jake's eyes roams around carefully as she continues to fill him through the updates from the things he asked them to do. Slowly, her voice became muffled as his eyes get caught at something that made him utterly surprised.

He pursed his lips, brows furrowing hardly at the sight of a girl a few feet away from where he's standing. Her nervous face was obvious as she continuous to fidget with her fingers. Jake doesn't know what to think. He was so close to asking his men if he's starting to see things, but then he snapped himself back to his senses.

“Who is she?” her secretary snaps her head in a hurry to follow his line of sight.

She hesitates and look back from you and Jake, just to check if she's getting it right.

“She's probably one of the applicants for the job.” her eyes dropping over the folder she was holding.

Jake didn't talk and kept his stance. He resets his mind to come up with his new plan and for his next move. He was always careful and never reckless.

“Ohh...” his assistant talks with a tone sounding a little bit astound. He looks at her as she checks her file.

“Why?”

“She's being blacklisted.”

Jake's forehead furrowed at the information he heard. This thing was already common in the world of business. People that have power uses this method to make sure someone they don't really like cannot be accepted in any company they are associated on.

“Blacklisted? By who?”

“Mr. Kang.” she answered quickly.

There's a lot of Kang in the industry of business, but since he knew whose the main investors of this company he already have an idea which Kang she's referring to. It slowly lights up curiosity over him on what did you possibly do to make him so upset to the point he was making your life this miserable.

Was he your ex boyfriend? Jake couldn't help but to scoff inside his mind at the thought of what Sunghoon will do to him once he found out. He may lose his mind and make Mr. Kang regret he even walked this earth.

Jake sighs, trying to hold his excitement.

“I want her in my office in five minutes. I will interview her myself.” he announced that surprised her assistant.

He starts heading towards his office and she follows him, “But Mr. Kang's instruction is to not accept her even in interviews.”

Jake didn't say anything and just lightly cranes his head to stare at her. Chills run through her spine at the strictness that lingers through his eyes. She instantly regrets insisting about what Mr. Kang instructed.

“R-Right away, sir.” she bows her head in a submissive manner before politely excusing herself to do as he say.

He trudges towards his office while fishing his phone from his coat. His men follows silently, waiting for anything he will order them to do.

“Riki.” Jake sighs, despite the calm demeanor he couldn't help but to flash a small smile over his lips.

“What hyung?” the younger one sounds in a rush.

“I found her.”

“Who?” his response made him roll his eyes in disbelief. Is he that distracted that he forgot their main agenda?

“Sunghoon's obsession.”

The other line went silent. Jake even furrowed in confusion and checked if Ni-ki turned off the call, but no. It's still going. He put his phone back to his ears.

“Hey,”

“No way, hyung? Are you for real?” now he sounded so interested. He smirks, remembering how he reacted moments ago after seeing you.

Who would not react that way? Sunghoon's been searching for you for years already and to see you now is just amusing. So he really did saw you and not losing his mind. Jake felt relieved, but also a little worried of how things will work out after this.

“Yes. I’ll send you her details later so you can go dig for her informations again.”

“All right. I’ll be waiting.”

They bid good-byes and Jake started preparing himself for your arrival. He's sure that his assistant will escort you inside any minute now.

Jake's was an inch close to call Sunghoon and deliver him the good news, but he's smarter than that. He knew better than to spoil the moment and mess things up. Of course he wants his friend to see you and finally put an end to his miserable search operations. He needs to think things through and come up with the best plans in order to help his friend.

“Miss Aelia?” your head lifts up after hearing your name. The lady who asked you to wait in line from a while ago was in front of you. She's holding this folder and she have this warry expression on her face.

Your eyes glanced around to check what's up and its still not yet your turn for the interview. Chest started beating fast and you worry that things are starting to be messed up once again. Shoulders already falling, you looked up at her with a pitiful eyes.

“Y-Yes?” you are so ready to pack up and leave when she flashes you a small smile.

“Kindly follow me.”

A bit bewildered that she didn't sent you home, you managed to stand up on your feet and follow behind her. People sitting beside you were also confused but has nothing much that they can do.

She guides you towards this hallway leading to a more secluded part of the floor. And your heart sank when you read that its the president's office.

Your hand unconsciously reached over your skirt, flattening it a bit. Next is your hair that you fixed and just in time, she asked you to wait for a bit.

She enters the room and not a minute long, she peaked through the door then asked you to come inside. You nodded and gulped, feeling your throat getting dry. To say that you are nervous was an understatement. Your breathing are fast and heavy, like your heart will jump out from your chest. Your palms both so sweaty and your throat running dry despite the continuous attempt of washing it off with your saliva.

The officed looked a little messy, like things are being moved from here and there. Maybe because they have a new president, the office are being renovated. But any of that should be the least of your concern because at the center of that said room, was Jake Sim.

The moment you laid eyes on him, you are slightly shook. He was handsome, very handsome to be exact. He has this mullet length black hair that seemed so soft. Plump lips and big doe eyes that reminds you of puppy eyes. Funny, because for someone who have delicate features, he sure is intimidating.

You feel very nervous as you took more steps closer to his visitor's chair that was placed in front of his desk.

“Good day, S-Sir.” you stuttered a little as he kept his eyes fixed at your direction.

You can't really tell what's in his mind at the moment. His stares remained and you couldn’t help but to feel odd about it. He didn't say anything even after his secretary has left the room. It's already been a minute.

Something about his stares makes you feel more nervous and somehow anxious. The urge to stand up and leave slowly intoxicated your mind, but you know this isn't the right time to let your trauma from your previous boss take over you.

“S-Sir?” you tried catching his attention.

That visibly snapped Jake back to his senses. He cleared his throat, a bit embarrassed for staring too much. He cursed inside his mind, knocking his senses back to his system. He needs to collect himself and not mess this up. Surely it was fascinating seeing you here inside his office, but frightening you would be the last thing he wanted.

“So,” he draws in a sigh before grabbing a piece of paper to write on. “Miss Aelia, huh?”

Your head bops lightly and a short “Yes, Sir.” follows.

Jake scanned the folder he was holding. All the basic informations that Ni-ki had given him are mostly here. He clicked his tongue and tilts his head over to the side.

“Where are you currently staying?”

His question made you purse your lips tightly, contemplating whether to tell him or not. Various things clouded your mind, some of them even appropriate. You couldn’t help it, what happened to you in the past caused all of these.

“W-Why...”

Seems like the man in front of you noticed your expression so he was quick to pull off a small smile. He still looked intimidating, but it somehow ease your worry.

“If you’re living far from the premises we are to offer you a place to your convenience. Also a car for you to use to travel back and fort all expense will taken care of the company.” he offered.

You were caught off-guard by what he said. Is this how it usually is? Company aren’t this generous when it comes to new employees so you’re a little confused, but at the same time tempted. A place to stay sounds great and a vehicle? Sure sounds very convenient too.

“I live a bit far from here, Sir.” you answered that made him nod his head slowly, eyes trailing back towards the folder he was holding.

“Are you single or already married?” his eyes are fixed at your resume. It took you a while to answer that made him glance back up to you.

“Your benefits will be based on your civil status.” you felt embarrassed for thinking differently of his question.

“O-Oh! I’m single, Sir.”

Jake smiles and nods his head before resuming to reading your informations.

Its not that it even matter whether you’re single or not. In the end, Sunghoon will still do everything in his will to get you. But it’s good to know you are single, at least a soul was saved from his friend’s wrath.

“T-That’s actually great, Sir.” you managed to utter. His eyes lits up and lips lifts up in eagerness.

“So you’re accepting the job?” he sounds hopeful making you furrow your brows, addled with all of the things that’s happening.

“Y-Yes, but aren’t you going to interview me?” your tone sounded too soft for Jake. He knew Sunghoon will go crazy for it and he couldn’t wait for you two to meet. But there’s still a lot of things to take care of.

He lifts his head up to glance at you, tearing his gaze off from your resume that contains all the details he wanted from you. He shows a confident smile, making blushed a bit, getting caught off-guard by his visuals.

“I just did.” he shrugs his shoulders off in a relax manner.

Despite being a little confused as to how things just ended so well, you couldn’t help but to feel giddy to actually get the job.

“S-So I’m hired?”

Jake nods, “Yes. You can start on monday. Sounds good?”

Your lips stretched into a wide smile as you accept Jake’s hands. “Yes, Sir! Thank you so much! I will do my best and I will not disappoint you.”

He smirks and nods then watch how his secretary escorts you outside his office. It’s been two minutes since you left, but he was still staring straight at the door right in front of him. He couldn’t believe it.

He stood up and fishes his phone from his pocket, a big playful smirk plays over his lips while waiting for someone to pick up his call.

'“What?” Sunghoon hissed at him.

Jake scoffs, clearly not surprised to his friend’s arrogance.

“10 Million.” he started.

“The fuck you saying?”

“I’m selling you this new company I acquired and currently revisioning.”

This time, it was his friend’s turn to scoff at him.

“Ten Million? What? Is there some gold hidden in that company or something?” Sunghoon asks, very sarcastic.

Jake’s grin grew wider, wanting so bad to spill the great news to his friend.

“You can say that.”

Sunghoon didn’t respond right away and just thought of what his friend was offering. He may not be the best one when it comes to business, but he sure not a dumb person. Jake rarely sells him property unless it was worth it or he can benefit from it in the near future. He trust his friend.

He sighs, “I’ll send you the check tomorrow.” and ended the call right away.

Jake laughs and put back his phone inside his pocket. “God damn, this is fun.”

main master-list

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@heeseung-min

[wint3r-h3art]

Imagine your honeymoon with Attuma… his breeding kink fully kicks in and he’s determined to get you pregnant but also worship you and show you how much he adores you

Honeymoon with Attuma | No power au

warnings: p in v sex, breeding kink, size kink, fingering, cunnilingus

18+ ONLY | MINORS DNI

A/N: Oh girl you can’t just mentioned this to me and think I won’t react some type of way 😩I really didn’t mean to write this out into a full blurb, but I can’t help it. also I wrote this on here without any grammar check, so I’m sorry before hand if it’s a mess. I’ll fix it later. Reblog & comment is always greatly appreciated 🥲💛

*** do not repost and claim it as your own, copy/plagiarize, or translate my works anywhere else!! 

Attuma has waited not so patiently to get to the honeymoon suit. He tries to be in his best behavior because you have been wanting to be here since the day he mentioned about this place—an all inclusive resort on a secluded section of the island with no one to bother your time together.

He isn’t being coy anymore. The moment the car stops, he rushes out with you in his arms. He has been dreaming—hell, the whole one week without sex thing had driven him crazy. Not to mention how gorgeous and sexy you looked during the wedding. It doesn’t help at all when his mind goes to the most filthy place he can imagine.

There is no doubt that he had thought about crawling under the table during the the reception, and feast upon your delectable pussy. Of course, he had to behave. Or else you will continue to starve him off—deprive him of your body.

Attuma wastes no time at all as he kicks the door to your honeymoon suit open. He also doesn’t care that the staffs were still moving your belongings inside the suit.

His mouth is on yours before you can even react to what happened. He wastes no time to hike up your dress and dips his fingers inside you, slowly working you till your pussy slicks with wetness. You moan softly underneath him, savoring the way his tongue glides and slides over yours of eagerly all the while he’s fucking you with his thick fingers.Your body jolts when you felt his thumb circled your clit, rubbing until your thighs start shaking.

He’s not yet of course. Your husband inserts another fingers inside you, spreading and pumping those digits with a determination all the while that his lips whispers dirty words into your ears, making your body response even more.

“Oh look at how your pussy is sucking in my fingers,” he coos. You could feel his breath tickles against your earlobe, making you shiver beneath him. “Hmmm, someone’s eager,” he chuckles as he continues to fuck you vigorously. “Because you made me wait a week, I think it’s only fair that I fill you up until you can’t move anymore. Don’t you like that wife?”

Someone the words “wife” stirs something inside you--and the need to submit to him outweighed whatever rationality you have at the moment, which honestly, it was already slim.

You nodded.

Attuma grin widened as he pushed harder, curling his fingers whenever he hits that one spot that makes your body reacts to him. A mixture of wet, squelching sound mixes with your moaning is like a music to his ears. He couldn’t help but relish in it. Of course, it’s not long after that you come, harder than you have anticipated.

Your husband doesn’t like you rests of course, because his mouth is on your pussy not a second too long, lapping on the cream that he has just milk it out of you. You whines and mewls softly beneath him. Your body is still weak from your earlier orgasm to even do anything about your husband’s insatiable appetite--I mean, it’s not like you can do anything about it. The man is double your size, and can easily overpower you if he wants to. The thing about Attuma is that he enjoys the little torture you often inflict on him a bit too much. He enjoys being tease and deprives of things until his desires is overflowed, and only then he will come looking for you with a vengeance.

And right now, he demands to fill you up until you can’t feel anything anymore.

The tip of his tongue presses against your swollen clit, flicks at it before he moves to suckle on it gently. His fingers works at your slippery seam, pushing in the tips here and there before he slides his tongue down to your opening.

You’re practically gasping for air at this point. Your fingers thread through his lushes hair, grasping at it like it’s your lifeline as another wave of your orgasm threatens to spill over again. Attuma fuck you with his tongue, delving into your pussy with an eagerness. 

He groans into your pussy as he feels your wall begins to flutter around him again, and he inserts two of his fingers inside you while his tongue works your clit. It’s overwhelming to the point where it doesn’t take him that much effort at all to make you fall apart again, clutching his head until you can’t feel anything else except him.

You body feels heavy as it tries to ride out your release. Attuma smirks as he settles between you wide spreading thighs. He makes a quick work of his slacks, discarding it--perhaps ripping the fabric in the process as he hastily gets rid of it.

He strokes his cock a couple of time first, letting the fat tip to rub against your clit, making you whine and begs softly underneath him. He would push it pass the folds then withdrew it back, teasing you and driving you mad as your pussy clench and unclenched at the emptiness.

“Attuma, please,” you while as you roll your hips, but his much stronger hand pins you down.

“Hmm, I thought you wanted to wait for another week,” he teases you as he slides his length between your folds. He hums in satisfaction as your slick cover his shaft.

“Don’t you dare,” you glare at him.

“In yakunaj [darling], you’re in no position to demand anything from me,” he reminds you as he stops all his movement together. Attuma leans forward until his large body covers yours. Heat radiates off him like a furnace. His large hand cups your face, holding you there to meet his hungry gaze. “You’ll take what I give you,” he smirks as he slowly sink into your heat.

His lips pulls back at the way your tightness is welcoming him, stretching out to accommodate his size. No words come out of your mouth as he slowly pushing into you inch by inch. You can feel every ridge and every vein that run underneath his cock slowly stroking you from the inside until you can’t feel anything anymore. Every inch feels like a desirous torture that you wish to never end.

You hand grasps at his bulging bicep, holding onto whatever you small hands can grasp as your husband begins to move. His powerful hips surge forward, bringing you with him. A small, strangling noise finally slips past your lips as he withdraw himself all the way out before he pushes himself all the way to base, knocking whatever left of oxygen in your lungs.

Your mind swirls. Your body feels like it’s being split apart and putting back together at the same time. Everything feels like it’s too much and not enough. Everytime he pushes forward, you feel like you’re going insane. 

Attuma is driving into you hard. He’s not even think about being careful anymore. At this point he just want to fill you up over and over again until you start leaking out his cum. His mind focuses only one thing: to fuck you senselessly and to fill you up. It’s not long because he’s getting impatient.

He’s practically rutting inside you, grasping at your hips, pulling you down with him. He doesn’t even realize that you just came. Attuma hauls your legs upward, hands pulling you back to meet his thrust. You feel like you’re going to die because of how impossibly deep he is inside you. 

His lips pulls back into a snarl. His nostrils flare as his release explodes. You wince beneath him as you can feel his releases coating your inside, filling up with his release. His large body strains above you. You can see the way his muscles corded tightly almost to the point of shaking.

You don’t know how long it is as the silent falls upon the suit, save from your panting. Finally, Attuma leans in and kisses you deeply.

“Reminds me again to hold off sex from you...This is the best sex we had in a while.”

His deep brows furrow as he bucks his hips forward. You gasp outloud when you realize that he’s still hard as a rock. 

“You wouldn’t dare to do that to me, do you?” he asks, hips slowly rolling, pushing his cum deeper into you.

You can’t even reply as the feeling slowly envelopes you again.

“Because if you do, I’m just going to keep filling you up again, and again until you’re round and full of my babies.”

[bimrsadler]

For something nasty? Low Honor!Arthur with an F!reader in a scenario that leads to either dub-con or con-nonconsent (your choice) because she's physically ill somehow? Maybe vulnerable to Arthur due to a bad showdown/gunshot or just wrong place wrong time? Sounds weird I bet dfjblg but if you do do this, ty!!

In A Bind

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x female reader

Word count: 3,000

Warnings/tags: nsft, con-noncon, lots of dirty talk, d/s themes with bratty reader, rough oral (m receiving), rough sex, unprotected piv, creampie, light degradation, LH Arthur, established relationship/consent

Summary: after a failed robbery lands you in a Rhodes jail cell, Arthur comes to spring you but finds he can kill two birds with one stone in the process

Notes: this is just 3k words of smut basically lol, also my first time writing cnc so I kept it on the lighter side (plus even LH Arthur would never go further than that imo) but that being said if cnc of any kind is an ick for you - don’t read

Twiddling your thumbs in the quiet jail cell, you watched shadows from the trees outside as they danced on the wall — wishing desperately you hadn’t gotten yourself into this mess.

Arthur would no doubt be unbearable about it, with his sarcastic tsk tsks and I told ya so’s as he stood tall with his hands on his gunbelt, shit-eating grin wide and proud on his face. But dear God, as much as he could drive you crazy, he charmed you to death as he did.

It had been some time now since Sheriff Gray stumbled outside on “business,” clearly drunk on the moonshine the boys had recently recovered.

Unfortunately he had been sober enough to chase you down after a stagecoach robbery gone south the day before.

The bullet he fired grazed your leg and spooked your horse, stirrup catching around your ankle and twisting it as you hit the ground hard enough to knock the air from your lungs.

You were given cloth to tie around it and you’d seen worse, but it would put you out of commission for a few days.

Eventually the heavy footfall of boots on the wood floor broke the silence as Arthur came into view. Sauntering over with that stupid grin and familiar stance — he stopped in front of your cell and laughed.

“Well, well…quite a predicament you got yerself in missy,” after a pause and lazy scratch of his short beard he continued condescendingly. “I told ya not to go pokin’ ‘round where ya ain’t ‘sposed to.”

“I’ll poke around wherever I goddamn please, Mr. Morgan,” you stated unabashedly.

He raised his eyebrows and scoffed (smug taunt), “and look where that’s got ya.”

“I saw an opening and I took it. Care to tell me how many times Hosea and Dutch have rescued you over the years?”

“Lotta tough talk from a little lady stuck in a jail cell, don’tcha think?”

Arthur leaned closer to the bars and lowered his voice, “way I see it, you oughta choose yer next words carefully seein’ as I’m the only one who can help.”

Ignoring his vague threat you gestured towards his chest, “I think that silly little badge you’ve been wearing is going to your head. I can take care of myself.”

“That so? You ain’t foolin’ me. I could see that little shiver when I walked in, and yer still breathin’ fast. From where I’m standin’?”

Arthur reached through the bars to caress your cheek, a gesture in stark contrast to his deep and rough drawl. “Ya look like a rabbit caught in a trap.”

He slowly moved his hand along the growing length in his jeans, palming languidly at the sight of you sweating. “Now…what’re ya gonna do fer me if I let ya out? Seems fair don’t it?”

Astounded with his audacity you scoffed, “my leg’s hurt, the hell do you expect me to be able to do?”

Arthur responded without missing a beat, “ya can kneel right? Yer mouth ain’t hurt is it?”

“Pig,” you sneered as you crossed your arms in protest.

He chuckled darkly at your insult, rubbing himself harder. “Ya can lie down and open them pretty legs for me can’tcha?”

“I think you’re all talk, tough guy. Why don’t you come in here and make me?”

Arthurs eyes studied your face as you tried not to break your showing of defiance. You were going to make him fight for it as long as you could.

He was surprisingly agile for such a large man, giving you no time to react before your wrist was trapped in his much larger, much more powerful hand.

“C’mon asshole, knock it off.” Swearing under your breath and trying to pull away did nothing as he tied your wrists around the cool metal bars with his bandana.

“Quit squirmin’ and get on yer knees.”

You leaned in as close to the outlaws face as you could against the bars and spoke in a daring whisper, “ya deaf? I said, you’re gonna have to make me.”

Arthur placed a powerful hand on the shoulder opposite of your hurt leg and pushed. Even at his gentlest he was exceptionally strong, barely needing to use any of his strength to urge you down.

Freeing himself from the confines of his pants, he stroked his twitching cock inches from your face and thumbed your lower lip with his other hand.

You turned your head away from him defiantly, contempt clear on your face.

“Ah ah, what’s the matter princess? Too good for this? You’ll be cryin’ my name in no time, that’s a promise.”

“You wish.”

“Quit stallin’ now or you’ll be stuck in here even longer.”

Placing his forefinger and thumb on your chin he moved you to face him, broad figure towering above you as he waited for your warm mouth.

Positioning himself between the bars in front of you, he prodded your lips apart with the head, urging his hips forward as you took him further.

Arthur let out a long, groaning sigh. “That’s it, take it darlin’.”

He was slow at first, pushing to the back of your throat gently as you adjusted your lips to his girth; twirling your tongue around the tip and hollowing your cheeks along the shaft.

Glancing up you saw Arthur’s arms extended above him, hands white-knuckling the bars and eyes sealed shut it bliss. Every light thrust he made was accompanied by a sharp breath or husky groan.

Feeling ashamed, you realized the sight and sensation made your pussy absolutely throb — it was already becoming difficult to pretend you didn’t want this.

Small moans traveled up your throat and vibrated around his cock as you bobbed your head eagerly; shifting on the floor and squeezing your knees together to accommodate the uncomfortable arousal.

Always keen on your body and its responses to him, Arthur grinned and sucked the air through his teeth. “See? I knew you wanted this, I bet yer soaking through to the floor just from suckin’ on me. That right?”

You were dangerously close to giving into your lust drunk stupor, to rambling and moaning with spit hanging off your chin; though you couldn’t give him the satisfaction without a fight just yet.

You pulled your head back and away to remove him from your mouth, looking up at him with raised eyebrows. “Lotta talk for someone who was about to come in ten more seconds.”

“We’ll see if yer still sassin’ me like this when ya can’t walk tomorrow. Now, I asked you a question woman.”

You batted your lashes and smirked, “that’s funny, I don’t recall hearing a question. All I could hear was you whimpering.”

Gathering a fistful of your hair Arthur pushed into your mouth and to the back of your throat, causing a gag as your nose met his chestnut curls. The thrusts were rough and sloppy now, his soft whines turning into primal, teeth gritting grunts.

“Tired a hearin’ you talk girl, yer mouth’s better at this anyway,” you looked up at his crooked smile, drool gathering at the corners of your mouth.

“Now…fuck — let’s try this again. I bet yer soaked just from havin’ my cock in yer mouth, ain’t that right?”

Arthur pulled out quickly to let you respond — and to catch your breath.

“Yes,” you mewled and panted, unable to stifle your dizzying lust. “I’m so goddamn wet right now.”

Arthur laughed smugly as he fished for something in his pocket, “that’s what I thought.” Revealing the cell keys he let himself in and closed the door behind him.

Still tied to the bars, Arthur circled around you slowly as his eyes traveled along every inch of you. For the first time you truly did feel like a rabbit caught in a trap.

“Can ya stand?”

Your replied nervously, “I think so…”

“Then do it…” His snarl was dark and harsh and sent a shockwave straight to your core.

He felt dangerous and you felt cornered.

Gently pulling yourself upright Arthur allowed you to test the waters. Putting pressure on your ankle, you found that the pain was a quiet whisper compared to the aching arousal between your legs.

He approached slowly, boots thudding next to you as the scent of leather and tobacco was carried with it. He opened the front of your dress forcefully to slip a hand inside, squeezing and massaging your breast with his cock twitching at your side.

“Can’t let an opportunity like this pass me up can I?” His pulling and pinching of the pert peak made your hips roll at the air.

Moving behind you, Arthur placed his hands on your hips and rutted his hardness against the soft fabric over your backside with shallow breaths.

You spoke in a breathy plead, “haven’t I given you enough yet Morgan?”

“Hardly. You think that pretty little mouth a yers was all I wanted?”

Pressing himself tight against you he dragged the flat of his hand along your mound possessively. “I deserve this tight cunt too don’t I?”

He tilted your head backward against his chest to look up at him, his other fingers tightening along your slit — pressing into the soaked undergarments. “Don’t I?”

You nodded with a lick of your lips, not wanting to say it out loud but left helpless to his appetite.

The outlaw brought his lips close enough to your ear that you felt the scratch of his stubble as he spoke, “good girl.”

Bending you forward, Arthur made your lower half bare to him, wetness glistening invitingly. Without warning he entered you with three of his sizable fingers, immediately motioning inside of you.

“So fuckin’ wet for me girl, thought you didn’t want this huh?”

All you could muster was a weak moan, focusing instead on the ebb and flow already increasing in your abdomen, the lewd sound of Arthur working your walls, the absolute debauchery and how good it made you feel.

“Got nothin’ to say now do ya? If you wanna come I better hear it.”

Arthur suddenly removed his fingers, leaving you desperate at the sudden hollowness.

The digits instead roughly penetrated your mouth, making you suck them clean of your juices. “Taste that? That’s what I do to ya girl, may as well jus’ admit it.”

“Now…beg for it.” he asserted harshly as you whined around his fingers. The palm of his other hand collided with your ass, leaving a hot sting. “Ain’t playin’ girl. Beg. Or I’ll take what’s mine and go.”

And this is what you wanted. For Arthur to tell you off and take you, to make you beg and turn you into jelly. The shame was merely an afterthought now that your carnal body had taken over.

“Please Arthur,” you swayed your ass and rolled your hips. “Please — let me come.”

Another playful slap landed on your backside as he stuffed his fingers inside of you once more, “yer lucky yer so goddamn gorgeous.”

You felt his other hand move to your sensitive bud, rolling in circles as he fingered you. “C’mon now, lemme feel how bad you want it.”

Obscene noise and filthy words filled the cell and ushered in your peak, waves of fluttering giving way to squeezing pulses around Arthur’s fingers.

Crying out your body fell forward, shaking and spent.

Giving you no time to recover, Arthur spread your swollen and sensitive lips as he entered you, flush with your ass and twitching in your core, a relieved groan escaped his lungs.

“Fuck…Arthur!”

“You can take it sweetheart…you can take it.”

As wet as you were — and as wet as he always made you; there was still a sweet sting as you adjusted to his girth. But Arthur was not patient today.

His iron grip on your waist was the only thing keeping you from collapsing as he pistoned in and out of you, pushing the air from your lungs with each thrust.

“Someone,” you fought through the stuttered breaths, “stop — someone could come in!”

“Oh but you’d like that wouldn’t you?” Arthur pulled your hair and rode harder. “You’d like the whole town to see what a little whore y’are, ain’t that right?”

Arthur slowed his pace to a long, languid grinding. “Let ’em watch, then they’ll know yer all mine.”

His substantial hand travelled slow down your spine, almost lovingly. You had a feeling this wasn’t part of the act.

“No one else gets to touch you like this — take you like this.”

Your breath hitched in your chest at Arthur’s words, injured ankle faltering slightly. Taking notice he untied you from the cell bars and laid you face down, flat on the cot.

Now that you were more comfortable, his demeanor snapped back to dominance.

Arthur’s hands pawed roughly at your ass, fingernails digging in as he rutted against your dripping slit.

You couldn’t help but grind your mound against the thin mattress and ass along the bottom of his shaft, the time for feigning disinterest long gone.

“Give it to me,” you pleaded against the thin pillow, losing all composure.

Keeping your legs together Arthur once again entered you, the sting no lesser in this tight position. “Look atcha, ain’t even hidin’ that ya want it anymore.”

Arthur’s broad torso encompassed you as he hovered above your back, repeatedly slamming into your heat with hot, wanton breaths against your ear.

Pressed into the mattress you listened to Arthur’s breathing become ragged and felt his body stiffen, all signs that he was close.

In one swift movement he pulled out to flip you on your back, pinning your wrists above your head as he plunged back into you.

“Wanna look at that pretty face while I fill you up. You want it?”

You turned your head to the side, feeling your body flush with heat from the intimacy of his words — of his future actions.

“Yeah you do,” Arthur leaned into your neck, sucking and biting at the tender flesh above your collarbone.

You couldn’t help but grind against him as he bucked into you, much to his delight. “Such a dirty girl, knew you wanted it. Coulda just enjoyed it sooner if ya weren’t such a goddamn brat.”

Lacing your fingers through the honey locks pressed against his forehead in sweat, you tugged gently while dragging the nails of your other hand down his back.

Arthur winced with a proud smile, “gonna empty myself inside ya.” He paused with a bite of his lip and groan, “I’ll be drippin’ down yer thighs and all over that nice dress…”

You could feel his cock flexing inside your heat, talking himself into a frenzy with each passing second.

Falling on top of you as his climax took over, Arthur moved in for a heated kiss; the first since he walked through the door.

Pressing deep inside you his hips moved in shallow jerks while painting your walls. A single, honest groan released from his mouth into yours, turning into whimpering shudders as his tongue roamed.

Arthur laid his forehead on the pillow beside you with a quiet expletive as you both took a moment to catch your breath.

Stirring slowly you felt his calloused hands running down your calf and toward your ankle. “Y’okay?” He gently ran his thumb over the swollen skin, “I can go take care of that bastard, don’t give a damn if he’s the Sheriff.”

“I’m okay, handsome.”

“Good. Ya know, ya didn’t need to get yerself arrested to get me to uh,” he grinned with a chuckle, “well…fuck ya like this.”

Playfully slapping his chest you exclaimed, “you know I didn’t do this on purpose!”

“I dunno, yer a pretty wild woman. I wouldn’t put it past ya.”

“Shut up,” you teased.

Arthur was rough around the edges but you trusted him. After many mornings of trying to keep quiet in the tent, humid nights shared at the Flat Iron lakeside, sweating and entwined with praises and whispers; you couldn’t help your lust drunk confessions. Wanting excitement and thrill, to do things the other hadn’t done with anyone else.

“So was it…thrillin’ enough for ya then?”

“That and then some, cowboy.” You ran your hand across his bulky chest. “What’d you think?”

“That it’s the hottest — and craziest thing I ever done,” he laughed and squeezed your ass playfully. “And on that note we should get goin’ ’fore anyone comes back.”

As the two of you began making sure you were decent, you inquired, “won’t Sheriff Gray put it together that it was you who broke me out?”

“He’s drunk as Uncle on a Saturday night sweetheart, he won’t even remember I was here.”

Arthur paused as his tone grew stern, “really though, what were you thinkin’? You gotta be more careful.”

He was right, but his pension for being overprotective and pushy in these situations felt unnecessary after an injury and arrest. “Most of the gang’s been in jail or tights spots at least once, comes with the territory.”

He taunted, “maybe, but what if I ain’t around to rescue ya next time?”

“I could’ve broken out myself. Wouldn’t be hard to seduce a nervous old deputy anyway,” you winked.

“Ain’t funny.”

“Well quit givin’ me a hard time then.”

“Alright alright, let’s get ya outta here.” Arthur wrapped his arm around your waist as he ushered you through the back of the jail, supporting you through your slight limp.

Before he helped you up on his horse you planted a quick kiss to his cheek, “thank you, Arthur.”

He shrugged dismissively in response but the rosey tint forming on his face didn’t go unnoticed. “C’mon now, let’s get you home and get that leg better.”

[armins-main-hoe]

HEYYYYYYYYYYYYY HOPE YOUR DOING WELLLLLLLLLLL 😋

ANYWAYYYYYYYY THE BAKUGO WITH SISTER READER ABSOLUTELY CAUGHT MY ATTENTION!!!

CAN I REQUEST A REQUEST OF ALL REQUESTS THAT Y/N GETS HERSELF IN LOTS OF SHIT- LIKE MAYBE SHES GOING THROUGH A LIFE THREATENING SITUATION, AND LIKE- I JUST WANT BAKUGO’S REACTION TO THE NEWS AND HOW’D HE REACT WHEN SHE COMES BACK ALL BLOODY AND BRUISED 😆 THXXXXXX MAKE TO TO DRINK FOOD AND EAT WATER!!!

OFC!!!

You take in the sight before you, the city was a ruin. Hardly any signs of life or civilisation left anymore. With so many villains out on the run now, Japan is a mess. Heroes have died during the Paranormal Liberation War. Its been a while since then, Midoriya left UA. UA sends training heros out with pro heros on patrol throughout the city to catch any villains out causing any more damage than what's already been done.

Thats what you're doing right now. Jumping down from a roof, you walk through the ruins, looking out for any remaining survivors or danger. It has been a hell of a journey to get where you are now, not that it's one you can say you're proud of considering exactly where you are right now. However, if you were to count the positives, you got a lot more battle experience than any previous hero-in-training in history and thats made you and your brother one scary duo.

Too bad the two of you still prefer to work solo, if given the choice. As students, the two of you have grown a lot, admittedly, there still is a lot of space left for growth but considering what you were before you entered UA, you've come far. You used to be a bitch. A real snarky bitch and to be fair you might still be considered a bitch. Just far more understanding and wary of others around you now. Your brother has gone through similar changes. Still hot-tempered but he takes others into consideration before his actions.

As for your bond as brother and sister, it's still a working progress. You would describe your relationship with your brother as a classmate rather than a sibling. The arguments are still there, the constant competition is also still there. Yet you can tell there is much more peace between you both than before, its just still not as visible.

"Look at what we got here." A deep rough voice pulled you out of your thoughts as you look at the person who spoke. No. Not person. A villain.

He was a tall man, with worn out clothes. His hair tied back into a bun with strands falling out. Though what was most noticeable about the villain was the large scar running down from his forehead to his chest where the top few buttons of his shirt were lost.

You immediately brace yourself in a fighting stance, your gaze hardens as you sneer at him.

The man laughs at you. "I can't believe they've got kids to come do their dirty work. Whats a little bitch like you gonna do? Huh?" He taunts you.

You should be careful, you don't know his quirk yet.

He steps forward, lifting a fist up. His body grows as ,what you can only assume, metal spikes appear out of his skin. He starts running towards you, aiming to hit you with a fist. You easily propel yourself upwards int o the air by blasting the ground below yourself. He makes a tisk sound while catching himself from stumbling. You then send a blast towards him.

However, he blocks it with the hard metal coming out from his body.

"Well aren't you annoying?" You mumble.

You continue to fight him. You're blasts would break his spikes but he would regenerate them just as quickly. You kept focusing on your explosions, trying to put as much force in them as you can, but not enough to kill him and trying to dodge his constant attacks was putting your stamina to test after 25 minutes.

You caught yourself slipping up, taking hits from the villain. You breath out your fury, trying to calm yourself down so you can concentrate again. You spit out the blood in your mouth before sending the most powerful blast yet at him.

It knocks him down, sending him crashing into a the remaining ruin of a building. You wait a few seconds, to see if he would stand back up. After he still laid down you slowly began to walk towards him.

After confirming that he was knocked out, you let out a sigh, frown still on your face.

'Katsuki would have been able to have knock him down quicker', you tell yourself. 'I should have done better'.

You hear someone call out your name and you turn to see its the pro hero you were grouped under. She visibly winces when she sees you.

"Damn girl, how many hits did you take?" She asks, pulling out a pocket radio and then speaking into it. "Bakugo down, sending her back to UA."

Your eyes widen. "What? I'm not down!" You argue. No. You want to stay. You need to stay.

The pro hero puts her radio back into her pocket. She shook her head before taking your arm. "You're in no condition to fight more today." Behind you the other hero students are picking up the villain to take him away.

"Yes I am!" You fight back, pulling your arm away from her.

She looks at you sternly. "A hero knows when to fall back. If you fight another villain in this condition you'll do more harm than good."

Was the damage that bad? You look down at yourself, blood was seeping through your hero suit, it was torn at places, places where spikes had gone through your body. You then look at the ground around you, you left a trail of blood wherever you went.

"Come on." The pro hero spoke softer now, gently tugging you along with her.

As soon as you stepped into the infirmary, you had ignored the looks you got from other students. You had avoided walking through the crowd of the public who were taking refuge in UA, to avoid them seeing the one who is supposed to be saving them all beat up.

You sat on a bed, a nurse coming up to you to attend to your wounds. Its now that you stopped fighting, stopped thinking that the pain finally hit you.

And it hit you hard.

You felt as if you were dying, the nurse laid you down, she began saying something. What was she saying? You can tell that she was speaking but you couldn't hear her. A white noise took over your ears as you looked around. It looks like the nurse was shouting.

You see other people running around the room, but you then notice someone else running. Running towards you.

You're eyes close before you could look up and see who it was.

You wake up, groaning at your eyes adjusting to the light. You take in the environment around you. You're still at the infirmary, the pain no longer there. Looking over your body, someone, a nurse probably, had changed you into looser clothing, your wounds fully healed with only scars on your body in their spot.

"You're up."

You look over at your side and see Katsuki walking over to you from where he sat on the chair. His hair visibly more messy than usual, dressed in UA uniform without his tie. But his eyes, it was his eyes that made you concerned.

His twin red eyes had irritated pink skin under them, as if he had been..

"You're a fucking idiot you know that." He wants to shout, but he can't seem to raise his voice.

You sit up let your legs over the side of the bed, looking up at him.

"As if you're the one to talk." At your remark his face softens. Which is weird because usually when you talk back, matching his rude comments, he would fume and come back at you.

“You came back as a bloody mess.” He said, still glaring at you but his voice softer.

“I’m fine.” You say.

“Don’t look it to me.” He scoffs.

You roll your eyes. “Wow. Thanks for your concern kats.”

He would usually sneer and tell you off for using that nickname he finds annoying but he didn’t. Which just added to more of the uneasy feeling you were getting from him.

You stand up and he immediately pulls you in, hugging you.

"Thank god you're alive." He whispers, you feel his arms tighten around you.

You haven't hugged your brother in... well you don't know how long and you don't bother remembering as you hug him back.

“Of course I’d be alive, idiot.” You mumble back. He didn’t say much else as a reply though, he just kept hugging you and you could have sworn you heard sniffles from him. However, you didn’t feel like calling him out on it so you just let him hug you for a while longer.

Honestly, you’re just glad that you and your brother are healing, even if you had to get physically hurt for it, even if there is a chance you may not heal much before you get hurt again from this war.

You’ll take what you can get, and you’ll hold onto it for as long as you can.

[cannibalcreeps]

Loveliest Creeps can i get uhhh Three-finger realising he's caught the dreaded Feelings™ for the reader and how you think he might go about making his interest known to them?

yknow I'mma make a new story with these boys and reader >w> ---------- You had been working for the old man for about 5 months in now, Three-Fingers had noticed, working at that shitty little gas station him and his two brothers would sometimes go to so they could fill up the ol' truck, after all their old man never stopped them. The first time the brothers spotted you was when you bolted inside the store of the gas station with Maynard, while Saw-Tooth filled up the truck. Both Three-Fingers and One-Eye tried to find ways in, tapping at the windows and doors, cackling at you and the old man. You on the other hand, were shitting bricks with the old man, confused and wild eyed. Yes Maynard had warned you, he sure as hell warned you that there were three giant ass men that came and stole his shit and to never call the police, never tell anyone because you would be in a world of hurt. You were so unsure about taking this extra hand job but no other place would pay a good wage or give you proper days off, with Maynard he gave you both Tuesday and Friday afternoons off once 1pm hit and the weekend off, along with a surprisingly decent paycheck, though under the table, and to take whatever from the store for lunch as long as it was under $10 which you thought fair. How this man was paying you $300 a week was a mystery on its own, but you thought having to just hide every 3rd week from some scary men was worth it, even if sketchy. Seeing them though, holy shit you almost passed out, they were huge and deformed, looking like killer slashers from horror movies. Them banging at the windows didn't help, but the old man just ushered you to keep it quiet. After the five months though, you were practically scrolling through tiktok or instagram as you stayed locked inside while the three men raided the place from outside, you didn't even hide yourself despite the old man's protest but really it was only the two smaller ones who did all the stupid faces outside the windows while the largest just filled up the truck with the most brain dead look on his face. The scrawny pointy nose ferret one though, always stared at you as he made his faces and mocking threats, you ended up actually giving him a dirty look once and stuck out your tongue which surprised and amused the grimy man. Ever since you did that, Three-Fingers couldn't stop thinking bout you for weeks, to the point he was daydreaming and getting on his brothers nerves with how distracted he was. Any time they came past, he wanted them to stop even if they didn't need too, getting a bit mean towards One-Eye by chasing him off if he got too close to any window you were by. He wanted to catch you outside just once, he had no idea what he would do but he'd make sure his brothers didn't lay a finger on you, like a spoilt child not wanting to share a toy. These thought were really hitting him though, was he actually catching feelings or was it just a weird obsession. His two brothers were catching on, they weren't stupid and knew when a sibling was catching some sort of feelings towards victims, though they didn't mind as long as it didn't affect their lively hood. Really you had better hope he never got you when you weren't inside that damn station, sure he could just smash his way in but where was the fun in that, also his old man would probably lose his shit, as much as Maynard was a nuisance he still was their dad. But what the boys didn't know, even if they tried to camp out the place, was that Maynard was picking you up from a bit up the road so as to make sure the three idiots didn't just try and grab you when driving up. Either way, that man was going to find a way to get to you and you will eventually learn about his intentions and feelings towards you very fast with how aggressively handsy that man could be. Most likely he was going to end up catching you and the old stinker slacking and just kidnap you, but for now he made kissy faces and bared his teeth at you through the cracks in the windows.

[tokusaatsus]

777

ft. sakuma rei

© tokusaatsus 2022

warnings: mentions of underage drinking + smoking, cursing, mentions of blood, vague mentions of sexual content

Triple sevens–lucky, lucky, lucky.

Rei’s not much of a gambler, but being with you gives him the same feeling as standing on the edge of some great precipice, looking over the side at the endless void below, not knowing what’s there and still thinking: yeah. I’m going to fall. It’s all up to fate, to chance, a turn of the dice.

(Bad things usually come in threes.)

Rei pulls the lever.

The numbers flash bright on the screen: YOU’RE A WINNER! He doesn’t feel like one, though. The tie on his neck is strangling him, because he should be rid of it by now but instead he’s still wearing it, even a year later. He’s stagnating. Lucky numbers don’t seem so lucky anymore. They feel like warning signs instead, emblazoned in red like blood on pale skin.

DO NOT TOUCH.

Rei thinks you should have a sign like that plastered on you somewhere. Look but don’t touch, so he doesn’t forget it’s all temporary, but he’ll end up forgetting anyways when you grab him by the tie and shove your tongue down his throat after some stupid performance at the Livehouse he can’t bring himself to care about.

He probably tastes gross–like dried blood and day-old cigs and beer, but you don’t seem to mind and it’s not like he’s going to be the one to push you away.

This might be the closest he’s been to a person who actually wants his company, and isn’t that sad? But you’re both just using each other–a means to an end. Rei’s looking to forget. So are you. After all is said and done, the two of you’ll part ways and you won’t look back and Rei’ll be back to where he began.

It all comes full circle.

You pretend you don’t know him outside of those little meetups and despite the fact that he does the same to you, he feels like a dirty little secret. Is that all he is? Well, it’s not like he cares. It’ll hurt, but so what. Everything hurts.

Life’s just shit that way.

And it’s all fine, actually, because Rei’s under no obligation to be nice to you. You’re not going out, or whatever. It’s a mutual cycle of usefulness. You spend the night, then you leave in the morning. So he can be as bitchy as he wants to you, but he won’t because you’re under no obligation to put up with him either. You can leave. He can too, to be fair, but he won’t.

It’s like he said: stand on the cliff too long and you’ll start to miss the fall.

And, oh, has he fallen.

It makes him laugh, sometimes, loud cackles that make both that bouzu and Isara-kun look at him like they’re worried he’s lost his mind, but he lost it years ago so there’s really nothing to be worried about to begin with. God, he really is fucking dumb.

The first rule of…whatever the hell you two have going on is short and sweet:

DON’T FALL.

That’s it. The first rule, the one you posed. He agreed because it seemed like a given. The only rule, really. It was so fucking simple and what did he do? He broke it. He fucking broke it. Looking back on it, the rule should’ve been amended to something easier to attain. Maybe:

DON’T FALL MORE THAN YOU ALREADY HAVE.

There, see? That’s simple. More than you already have. That’s subjective, isn’t it? It’s doable. Probably.

He’s fallen fast and hard and he hit the ground on both knees and now he’s brusied and bloodied but instead of looking people just avert their eyes and stay fucking complacent and just pretend they don’t see him. He’s on the ground, he’s on his knees, and you’re not going to be the one to extend your hand to him–so he’ll claw his way up.

Scarred knuckles and bloodshot eyes–that’s all that Sakuma Rei is.

So what if he wants to kiss you sometimes? It’s normal, yeah? He’s a healthy(-ish) teenage boy, ‘course he’s gonna have fantasies of kissing and making out and maybe something more. It’s not like he’s gonna act on it, anyways, because the one time he tried to kiss you–cornered you after a live and pressed you up against the wall–you smacked him, hard, and he’s learnt his lesson after that.

(No, he hasn’t.)

‘Course, who really knows. Life’s a fucking mess, but that’s just how it is.

And maybe he’s imagining shit. It’s possible, after all, that he’s just reading too much into this–because at the core of it all, he’s still a hopeless romantic longing for love. So, he could be imagining it, but he thinks you might be getting fond of him. The way you would of a housepet, perhaps.

You aren’t so abrasive anymore–in fact, sometimes your touches are downright gentle–and he could’ve sworn that the other day, you smiled at him in the hallway. Smiled! At him! That’s not something you’ve ever done before.

Slowly, slowly, those make-out sessions become…something more? He doesn’t know. This is something strange and new to him. You let him rest his head in your lap and you gently play with his hair, even though you’re in public and you’ve stated that you don’t want to be seen with him. And the first time he falls asleep he wakes up a few hours later in a panic because he thought you might���ve left (left him alone) but you’re still right there, waiting patiently like you’ve been for the past few hours and, well. That’s new.

And Rei wonders sometimes where the old Y/N went, the one who didn’t give a shit about him–because you had some fun times together, sure–but he’s not complaining. He likes the new Y/N better. It’s nice, he thinks, to be treated so gently.

Still, he’s going to have to leave soon.

He wonders if you’ll grow to hate him too. If you move on and forget about him, because he’ll be gone so long that he’ll simply be a memory. Not even a fond one. Just a memory that you vaguely recollect, but can’t be bothered to remember fully. Sakuma Rei?, you’ll say, to some nameless and faceless idiot you decide to let into your life. Who’s that? Some zero? And you’ll laugh at the joke and move on with your life and Rei’ll be all alone again.

But he’s not going to think about that because right now, Rei’s here in the Livehouse with his head in your lap and later he’s going to kiss you goodbye before you leave and, well. YOU’RE LUCKY flashes on the screen, just once–triple sevens–and Rei thinks, yeah. Maybe I am.

notes!

WC: 1.1k words

reze txt hhi. idk wtf this is. word vomit ig ?? tbh this could’ve fit both rei or rinne but. i’m a sucker for 2nd yr rei and it shows. this was also. lowkey a vent fic ?? again idk i wrote this in the span of 20 mins but. iykyk. are they fwb? is this unrequited love? or is rei just being dramatic? who knows shrugs it’s totally up to u. anyways i hope my impromptu rei analysis fic was interesting to read (this was cathartic to write lol) and i hope u enjoy <3 mwah <3

[softquietsteadylove]

Hello, Love!

I don’t know if you are familiar with that but you know these days when you have such high anxiety and doubt about yourself? And that one friend who is your little light at the end of the tunnel?

How about Thena has this moment and Gil is there to hear her out and helps her calming down?

Would love to see some comfort moment between them!

Choose the AU.

"Boss?"

Thena winced as the knock and gentle voice came. She should have known he was still here, and she should have really guessed that he would just be able to sense that he should come to her office.

Gilgamesh had a bizarre sixth sense for when she was feeling less than her best.

He hadn't been in her unit long. Hell, the unit hadn't existed long, by this time. But every time she seemed to hit a wall with the brass, or they came back from a mission she was less than happy with, he seemed to know.

He would kind of drag his feet in leaving, hang around a little later than necessary. And then he would inevitably end up at her office door like this, asking to come in with such a soft tone.

How was she supposed to say no?

"Come in, Gilgamesh," she sighed, standing above her desk, staring down at the files she had been slapping around for the sake of her frustrations.

He poked his head in so timidly for a man of his stature. His shoulders followed as he slipped in unassumingly. "It's kinda late, isn't it?"

"I could say the same to you," she raised her brows at him, tipping her head to the side faintly. He didn't back down, though. Gilgamesh was frustratingly unintimidated by her. "It's a bad look for the team to be here later than the boss."

"Sorry," he smiled faintly, gripping the strap of his bag over his - truly massive - shoulder. "But, I mean...the question still stands, doesn't it?"

Damn this man and his emotional perception. She had no idea how he wasn't in the interrogation or psych branches. But she had to count herself lucky for that.

He looked around her office, which he had been in a handful of times before. As her chosen second in command, he had been in it more than anyone else, even the runner up being Kingo. "That's a lot of files."

Right, her migraine. She looked behind her and around the room, files simply stacked as tall as they could go without falling over. "Yes."

He chuckled faintly. He was also the only one not afraid to laugh in her presence, which she both respected and resented about him. He really seemed to see her as just some person--a real human, instead of the Goddess of War. "Seems like a lot to put on your plate."

"Well, that is what happens when you start your own division team," Thena sighed. She knew this came with the territory, perhaps she didn't think that it wouldn't be quite this...heavy.

"Is it just standard paperwork?" Gil shrugged, drifting closer to a file withing his reach. He kept his eyes on her, waiting for her to hiss at him or something. He picked it up, "reports and personnel files?"

"It is," she admitted, and didn't even want to do that much. But he was already reading the damn thing. "Paperwork for me to file, things that had to be filed before I was even the team leader, things for me to file now that I am. It's about six months worth of paperwork that has to be done within two weeks."

"That hardly seems fair," he frowned, setting the file down again.

"And does the agency prioritise fairness?" she eyed him. "Mister-Suspended-For-Rescuing-A-Cat?"

He chuckled, and his smile was so infectious and welcoming. It was hard not to smile when he smiled at her. "Okay, you got me there."

Thena looked back down at her desk. "Don't mind me. It's just some dirty work that has to get done. I knew it would come with the territory when I applied to have the Special Ops team designated anyway."

"Did you know you would be taking it on yourself though?" he frowned, even stepping closer to her desk and the chair that was across from hers.

"Yes," she sufficed to say. Didn't she do everything alone?

"That doesn't seem like the purpose of a team."

She frowned up at him as he swung his bag down to the floor to lean against her desk, seating himself as if he were just so at home in her office. "Excuse me?"

"Well, I guess the other guys don't have the clearance for all this," he shrugged as he picked up another folder of papers waiting to be signed and reports waiting to be reported.

"Gilgamesh," she said sharply, but her usually razor sharp tongue really just bounced right off this guy. Her crossed arms tightened and her frown deepened, "Gilgamesh!"

"I'm not saying it'll be fast, but doubling one is still twice as fast, right?" he went on, even picking up a pen - her pen! - to scribble his name on the papers. "Y'know, Kingo's really good at forging handwriting. If you have stuff you know only needs your name, I bet he could help-"

"Gil!" she barked, and finally, he looked up at her. She leaned over her desk, assuming the posture that usually worked to help her assert a certain predatory stance. He didn't even blink. "Go home."

He didn't even humour her, just looked back down at the paper.

"Gilgamesh, that is an order."

"It's almost midnight."

What? No, it wasn't. Thena looked over her shoulder at the clock above her desk. Fuck, it really was getting past 11:45; she hadn't even realised. She looked at him again, scribbling away, "all the more reason for you to leave."

"Not unless you're leaving with me," he looked up at her, "ma'am."

Her eye twitched; she needed sleep. She pulled out her chair roughly, "I could write you up for insubordination."

"And do even more paperwork?--I wouldn't," he snorted.

Fuck, he was right. Thena grabbed another pen for herself and aggressively swiped her signature over another paper. She glared at him, "you don't have to do this."

"I know," he admitted immediately, under no delusion that he would be rewarded for his disobedience. "Just doesn't seem right to bury you under all this. You can tell everyone you did it all yourself, if it's for your reputation. But I can't let you take this on alone."

He had such a tender heart. It was part of why she picked him, sure, but she didn't think she would ever have to be on the receiving end of such...tenderness.

He looked up at her, catching her glowering at him, and smiled.

Thena looked down at her paper, slashing through it with another signature. Her heart did a somersault in her chest. Perhaps she was more fatigued than she had initially thought. "Did you at least eat something?"

"I did," he volunteered between papers, "I'm sure you didn't."

That wasn't any of his business. "If I didn't?"

"Well, if you didn't," he shrugged, looking down at the done stack of papers to his left, "I would say I have some leftover lunch in my bag. But I'm sure my team leader is responsible enough not to starve herself while she's-"

"Okay, enough, just give it to me," she growled at him. And again, her snarling did nothing but encourage him. He bent down with a grin and handed over a perfectly wrapped riceball. "Please don't tell me you hung around here this late just to catch me doing paperwork."

"No, of course not."

Right. No, of course not, that would be ridiculous. She chewed her bite before asking, "so...what then?--why are you here?"

He smiled at her again, even more gently than last time (and yet the affect on her accursed heart was just as bad). "I was looking out for a friend."

Thena looked down at the rice ball. It had been in the fridge all day, but pulled out long ago enough that the rice wasn't hard. It was delicious, actually. She couldn't remember the last time she'd had a friend.

She'd had teammates in her days in the academy. They had hated her. Trusted her, maybe, feared her, absolutely, but they certainly didn't like her. Even last she worked with Minerva, she wouldn't have called them friends (no matter what Minerva had to say about that).

She smiled; maybe having a friend wouldn't be so bad.

[k-arb]

Dunked on: a collection of thoughts reguarding sans

I like how sans just cheats. Specifically at the end of the genocide route. When you get there, youre expecting a fight, be it from asgore, sans, or whoever. When it finally starts, youre braces for it to begin, you know the rules of the game, youre prepared with your highest healing items

And then sans goes first. You arent expecting it, it hasnt been like that the entire game, and youre not even familliar with the mvoes hes using. You know how the blue soul works, assuning you played pacifist beforehand, but noones ever been able to physically move your soul. And then theres the gaster blasters, more moves you know nothing about. Everything flies at you so quickly, you almost instantly die. And the whole time youre confused as to why youre taking heaps of damage with what looks like poison chipping away at your health.

Your invcibility frames are gone, mentally youre thinking "thats not fair". And it isnt. Sans doesnt let you go first because you dont deserve to be fought fairly. Youre a mass murderer with too much unchecked power, noone in their right mind is going to want to fight you fairly. So sans cheats

Immediately after the first attack, you may fight, but by checking you find out how sans cheeses the game. "The weakest enemy, can only do 1 ATK". 1 ATK sure, he can only deal 1 hp of damage, but with the absence of your i frames, now replaced by the KR meter, 1 hp adds up. And it adds up fast.

Now maybe after checking him, you decide to try out your new weapon. But you cant. Sans knows you'll kill him in one hit, so he does something no other monster has until this point. He dodges. He dodges your attacks, breaking the rules of how the game is supposes to work. Monsters dont dodge, theyve never been able to. Sans doesnt care. This isnt a fair fight, and he never intended for it to be one. Everything he does is to get you to give up and stop playing, because that means you cant hurt anyone else. And playing a game thats unfair sure as hell wont want to make you play anymore.

Sans's attacks are unlike any other in the game. He plays dirty. Sometimes theres a pattern to be followed, sometimes there isnt, and you have to think on your feet in order to not get killed. His attacks dont give you any breathing room to speak of, you have to jump through tight spaces, inch your way between bones, its always at 100 and wont ever not be.

Then the turning point happens. Something stressed in undertale is that your goal as the player is to see what happens. You kill almost everyone just to see what sans will say, or to see how things play out. Its always you wanting to see whats next. So when sans presents you with the option to spare him, some might give into that desire, and click the button. This is tied for sans's biggest act of cheating. He puts you in a box, shoves it full of bones, and gives you nowhere to run.

Youve been dunked on. Sans says so himself. In an attempt to get you to stop once more, he says that if you really are friends, you wont bother coming back. Hes a sore winner, and he tells you to never boot up the game again because youre just that bad.

Now once you come back, and decide not to spare him, his attacks get harder. The screen blacks out, youre unprepared for what happens next, and the gaster blasters ramp up in intensity. And to make matters worse, he gets more blatant with his cheating. He begins attacking you during your turn, in the text box, in your menus, not enough to kill, but just enough to chip your health down to 1. Reminding you that this isnt a fair fight. It never was, and it wont get any easier.

The fight keeps getting harder, you only learn how his very first attack works now instead of when you needed to, and the quick attacks get quicker. All the while, sans appears to be getting more and more tired. So he issues one last attack before his so-called special attack one thats a combination of almost all of his attacks so far, and if you manage to survive all of that, he just grabs you and throttles you around the room like youre nothing. It doesnt kill you, but it does rub salt in the wound.

Then, after youve made it to the end, sans tells you what his final move is going to be. Nothing. Aboslutely nothing. This is the biggest act of cheating sans displays. Its as if you were playing chess, and the opponent means to win by never moving. Sans is going to keep having his turn forever. It doesnt matter how long you stay there, hes not going to give up. It never becomes your turn. Sans has won by initiating a stalemate.

At least thats how it is before you decide to play along.

The only way to beat a cheater is to cheat back. You do something youve never been able to before. That being having your turn during sans's you push the text box to the side, and then down, and press the attack button. Sans, still keeping up his cheating streak, decides to dodge again. But at this point you dont care. Mid sentance, you issue your first and final blow. Sans falls, bleeds, and realizes hes lost. Then, he simply gets up, and walks off screen. If he cant beat you or cheat the system, the least he can do is take away the satisfaction of seeing you die.

So yeah, sans cheats. He cheats a whole bunch. And i like that. Its such a frustrating fight, and i feel it was at least partially designed to be. Story-wise it also makes sense because why would anyone plal fairly against you, a murderer?

Im not sure how to end this off, so i'll just reiterate that i really like how sans cheats against you, and i hope hes drinking ketchup in undertale heaven.

[doyl1st]

A long, rambling post about Ignatius.

Ignatius (Iggy) Duncan is Isaac's younger brother. He's a goofy, kind, and sweet man with an almost childlike innocence to him, despite his bloody backstory and violent tendencies. He'll never hurt an innocent person, but if he feels like you deserve to have your nose broken, he'll break it. The thing is, though, he'll do it with a smile on his face. Not a malicious grin or anything. Just this silly, almost dopey little smile.

Iggy is as much of a manic chaos goblin as Isaac is, if not even more so.

As detailed in my other post, he and Isaac have a great many things in common.

Where they differ is in their interests and specialties. Isaac is a man of science who loves math, engineering, and languages. He's got three PhDs and a doctorate. Art and music are totally lost on him, though. He likes them, but he's no good with them.

Iggy, on the other hand, dropped out of college three months in and started working at a record store. He's still extremely intelligent, definitely a traditional genius in his own right, but his true brilliance resides in music. Iggy's the sort of guy who can compose symphonies in his head and play any music he picks up. He's also the kind of guy who genuinely listens to everything, his favorite genres being energetic rap and the heaviest metal known to man.

He considers himself to be the Facility's failure, and has kinda low self esteem. That's really what's defined him for most of his life, allowing others to worm their way into his head. Isaac was a manipulator, but Iggy was manipulated.

Like I mentioned before, Iggy worked at a record store after dropping out of college. It was a really nice gig, expanding his knowledge and interest in music and teaching him a little bit about how the real world works. It didn't last too long, though. The store went under after only a few years and Iggy was lost again.

He was found after a bar fight that ended with him breaking the jaw of a gangster, some dude working for the local mob. That probably would've been the death of him, if the guy's boss hadn't been impressed by it. He brought Iggy into the fold, feeding him plenty of lies about how they weren't all bad.

Iggy wasn't stupid. He knew the guy was just telling him what he wanted to hear, but that was alright with him at the time. The guy was nice to him, made him feel like he belonged somewhere, and that's something he's craved since childhood.

At first, things weren't too bad. Iggy would run errands and do favors, doing pretty much whatever he was told. Then it graduated to him being something of an enforcer. If his boss told him to hurt someone, he'd do it. Iggy might've been only 5'4", but he had one hell of a right hook. He was fast, too, and not above using dirty tricks or improvised weapons in a fight. When it began, his boss would tell him some kind of lie about how the guy whose leg Iggy was breaking deserved it in some way, but eventually he stopped bothering. He knew Iggy would do what he asked even without an excuse.

Eventually, that progressed into Iggy doing hits for the guy. Same story as the last. He'd tell Iggy the guy deserved it, and Iggy would listen. The first few might not have been lies, if only to acclimate Iggy to it. It was hard for him in the beginning. He threw up after the first one. Cried himself to sleep. But over time, it got easier. Knowing the men he was killing would do the same to him if given the opportunity made it easier, too. Iggy eventually began to rationalize it as if they were playing some kind of game. If they die, he wins. If he dies, they win. If you're in the life, you're fair game. No hard feelings either way.

Iggy wouldn't say he necessarily liked killing, but he did enjoy the thrill of knowing he might die if something goes wrong. He's an adrenaline junky just like Isaac, but the difference is that Isaac likes daring heists and outsmarting his opponents. Iggy likes shoot outs and fist fights.

His life in the mob ended with a raid that landed him in police custody. It was almost immediately obvious that Iggy wasn't just some run of the mill crook, and after some talking, some phone calls, and negotiating, some kind of deal was made.

Iggy is now, effectively, a secret agent. He's on a tight leash, but he's at least free. Isaac's deal actually used Iggy's as a basis, but Isaac doesn't find that out until years later when he and Iggy reconnect because of a shared case.

Like Isaac, Iggy has continued to grow and evolve as a person after being forced into a safe environment. He's learning how to become his own person, how to exist without someone telling him what to do. It's difficult, considering some high ranking official is still doing that, but still. He still has a pretty warped view on life and death, but he's at least not as apt to kill as he used to be. With a good enough reason Iggy can and will chase someone down with a fire axe.

He's still pretty eager to fight, though, and now that he's had some formal training, he's a lot more effective. He'll never hurt an innocent person, though. Never, ever, ever, as he'd say.

Iggy's unofficial theme is Insanely Illegal Cage Fight. Even the title is fitting for him.

[armpirate]

UNDER HIS SKIN || JJK || Ch. 15

Pairings: tattoist!jk x fem!reader

Genre: smut, angst, friends to lovers, tattoo au, virgin reader.

Summary: They say there are two versions for every story, and it's important to hear both of them. Everybody is hearing your side of the story, but it's just fair to get to know his.

After breaking up with his girlfriend, the only thing he wanted was to have fun with no attachment. You wanted to get rid of your virginity, and he wanted to tick you off his list. What he didn't expect was getting so emotionally attached to you that he would regret the deal.

Previous || Next

MASTERLIST

I wake up when my body crashes against the floor of my living room, and I suddenly remember what I'm doing here. Still lying on the ground, I stare at the ceiling and try to think why I let her stay in my bed, when I could've taken her home yesterday. But then I remember the pain in her voice as she kept mentioning she didn't want to sleep alone, and how she didn't want to get hurt. And later last night, how she didn't want me to leave her side in my bed either, at least not until she fell asleep next to me.

I catch myself smiling lightly when I remember how fast she was able to doze off, and the nonsense she kept talking about when she got in bed.

What the fuck am I doing?

I shake my head, getting up from the floor and picking everything up to erase any proof that I've slept here. I have enough with being reminded of that back pain that hits me as soon as I stand straight on my feet.

I walk around, unsure on whether I should peek through the door or not. But I do. And while I inspect the room, I find her dirty clothes on the floor. Carefully, I step inside to pick them up, but I end up looking at her. I admire her still sleeping on my side of the bed, as she hugs the pillow tight in between her arms. And maybe I stare at her a little bit too long. Enough to call myself out for being a creep.

I try to find something to do to keep myself busy and while her clothes are washing.

I should be calling Soo and Tam out for leaving her alone in that state, but I remind myself Y/n doesn't want anyone to know what we have going on and getting in an argument with my sister, on why they left Y/n alone last night, would blow our cover straight away.

I lay on the couch again, frustrated with everything that happened, and trying to get rid of it all by turning on my Playstation. There's nothing better for stress other than blowing some zombies' heads -and maybe some assholes', too.

I'm not aware of how long I've been playing, and what time it might be, until my stomach roars over the sound of gunshots.

So I make my way to my bedroom again, peeking through the door again just to find her sitting in the middle of the bed, completely covered with the blankets.

—I see you finally woke up —I tease her

—Please, let me die in peace.

—That's not what you were begging for last night.

I remember how she was constantly asking me to let her lick my lip piercing, and how I almost gave in to her whining.

Shit, she's one hell of a menace.

Trying to get some control back, I open the door completely and lie against the door frame with my arms crossed over my chest. Y/n hurries to get rid of the blankets, looking at me with horror installed in her eyes.

And there's nothing worse she could've done. Messing with her is one of the funniest things.

I take my phone out, and after finding the video I recorded last night, I play it for her with a fast and simple click. She doesn't need to hear too much before she jumps out of the bed and runs to me.

—Delete that —she orders.

I move fast when I see her attempt to reach the phone, stretching my arms as high as I'm able to.

—Ask nicely.

—Nicely my ass —she jumps, to try and reach it—. Just delete it.

—But you look so cute in it —I start walking backwards, not moving my eyes away from her—. How could I delete that?

And that's true. I don't think I'll ever delete that, especially because of how she compliments me only a few seconds later.

Yeah, whenever I need an ego boost, I'm playing this.

Y/n keeps trying to take the phone away from me, which only makes me move before she's able to even touch it. She corners me against the mattress, and the only place I seem able to hide the phone is on my back, making her wrap her arms around me. Our bodies are so close, that I can feel the warmth radiating through her body with every move. I seem to be so distracted by that, that I lose balance at one of those moves. And, unconsciously, I drag her with me to the bed, making her fall on top of me.

I block the screen, finally allowing Y/n to get the phone in her hands, just to see the face she makes right now when she's aware that the phone is blocked.

All that effort for nothing.

Still admiring her shaky pupils and her frowned eyebrows, I take the phone away from her, leaving it on the nightstand.

—Seriously, delete it —she warns me.

—Or what?

She dissects my face carefully, moving her eyes over each mole and little detail she finds. The more she looks at me, the faster the look in her eyes changes. There isn't any fun on them anymore, there's no challenge or mockery; and that gentle blush tinting her cheeks gives away what she's thinking about exactly.

Her eyes fall on my lips, on the lip ring I'm playing with with my tongue. I have to hold back like I've never done before when her lips rub against the mole under my lower lip, only that small touch is almost making me go feral for her.

Keeping my eyes on her all the time, I see her lips parting and the tip of her tongue peeking through them. I know exactly what she's about to do, but I have no time for teasing.

I grab her by her cheeks, cupping her face delicately before we both sink for the sloppiest kiss we've had until date. Our tongues mess with each other, while we suck into each other's lips as if that would satiate us. Her small hands on my chest only encourage me to wander over her body, and sneak under my oversize t-shirt she's wearing right now.

Her skin feels so soft on my fingertips. I trace the curve of her hips and waist, although that seems to be making her nervous, because her mouth starts acting clumsy on mine.

But I know she isn't losing focus when I get closer to her bra, and she suddenly moves back and breaks the kiss. She's horrified and nervous, and her shaky breath isn't due to our kiss. Y/n looks around, as if she was trying to make sure of something.

For a second, I wonder if I've done something wrong. If maybe I touched where I shouldn't have touched.

I must've done something that scared her away. But what exactly?

—Are you okay? —I sit, barely leaving a few centimeters between us.

She nods without looking at me. But even though she's trying to assure me she's okay, I can feel her body trembling against mine. I can feel the way her heart beat is racing against my chest. She's looking at me, but she isn't looking at me at the same time.

—Hey —I grab her chin, making her look up to me—. You sure?

Slowly, I feel her relaxing in my arms, licking her lips as if she were getting ready to speak again.

—Yeah. I just...

I don't need any explanations. I just want her to be okay and sure of what we do. She struggles trying to explain what has just happened between us, but she doesn't need to.

—It's okay —I don't let her finish—. No need to give explanations —ii try to comfort her while rubbing her cheek with my thumb—. Are you hungry?

She nods with a shy smile, something that makes me chuckle instantly.

—I cleaned and dried your clothes —I inform her—. They're in the bathroom —I point out in the living room—. So if you want to, you can change while I prepare lunch.

I get up, and start walking outside to get myself to cook something for her.

—You're good at cooking?

—The best —I scream from the kitchen—. You'll love it.

The best at cooking if you consider a sandwich the most exquisite delicacy you could ever taste. I barely spend any time at home between work and hanging out with the boys, so I mostly eat prepared food or outside. This will be interesting.

I'm focused on preparing some omelets -because I fool myself into thinking they're easy enough to prepare. But soon I start finding trouble when one of them breaks as I try to serve it on a plate.

While I let the other cook slowly, I start to set the table for the two of us; along with a poor salad I prepared with some lettuce, tomatoes and tuna I had in the fridge. I find Y/n looking everywhere in my house, biting her lip nervously as she tries to hold back a smile.

—I don't get why you don't like inviting people over —she mentions—. Your house is cool.

—It doesn't have anything to do with that —she turns to look at me when I speak—. I just think opening your home for somebody to spend quality time there is way too intimate —I shrug—. Too personal.

While it doesn't mean much for others to share your bed with someone, it means a lot to me. I value the privacy and intimacy that brings.

Kind of ironic coming from someone that doesn't care about sleeping in other people's bed when he's out for a fling. And kind of understandable coming from someone who caught his girlfriend cheating on him in their shared bed.

—Also... If those girls don't know where I live, they can't bother me here.

I joke, the environment was getting way too serious for my liking.

—Fuck off —she rolls her eyes—. Wait, that's why you took me to the studio?

Bingo!

—You're an asshole.

—Thing is... Usually, when they see I'm a tattoo artist, they...

—I don't care! —she stops me.

The first time I brought someone to the studio, it was accidental. I genuinely forgot the keys to my house there, and the way the girl reacted to me being a tattoo artist opened a door for me -that I never thought of skipping since that day.

I invite her to sit on the table, before I come back to her with both of our plates. Y/n presses her lips tight as she tries to hold back a laugh, and I can't blame her. The destroyed omelet has fought to get out of the pan completely, but I'm awful at that.

—It's a reconstruction of the typical french omelet —I say.

And I know a dumb comment was the only thing she needed to break into a laugh.

We cackle for a few seconds, until our hunger makes us stop to eat the food we have in front of us. I taste mine, and despite the looks of it, I think it's tasty. And I also see her getting a taste of her food, making a low "Hmm" when she chews on it.

—So? What do you think?

—It's good —she nods—. I could've grabbed something to eat on my way home. Or maybe I could've cooked something here. You didn't have to do it. You let me spend the night here, you cooked for me...

The fact that I don't know her that much, but I knew she'd come up with that... All of this is the least I could do for her, to be honest.

—Well, let's say, by what you've told me, you went through a lot last night —I show her a funny smile—. I think you've had enough for the past hours.

I see her jaw teasing at that comment.

—Throwing up on the dude that was trying to take you home. That's a new level of fucking it up.

—In my defense, it seemed like I did him a favor by giving him an excuse to leave —she mentions—. He liked Melanie and Tammy, but his friends were faster and he ended up with the six of the group of friends.

Thank god I didn't see him around her, because what the fuck is that attitude over someone that's paying attention to you? Especially the attention that comes from her?

—A six? You're a six? —I look at her surprised by that last comment— Did that asshole say that?

—Nope. That was mine —she sips on her water.

—You're not a six —I tilt my head—. You're a worthy nine.

—If you tried to comfort me, you could've said I was a ten.

—You're a ten —I assure her.

For me, she actually is an eleven though.

—But your low self-esteem, and the attitude you have when you go places, makes you a nine —I shrug—. That asshole should've been thankful you stayed long enough to listen to his bullshit.

She clears her throat, before I hear her speaking again.

—Why didn't you take me home? You know where I live.

—I felt better having you around, considering the state you were in —I lie—. Then I gave you some clothes, and you decided to only put on the t-shirt —I continue to explain—. I gave you the bed, and I slept on the couch.

After we eat, and she gets away with cleaning the table and doing the dishes after arguing with me on why she shouldn't need to do it, I see her picking her things up after getting changed.

—Give me a minute. I'll put some shoes on and drive you home.

—It's alright —she stops me—. I'll get on a bus. Don't worry.

I know she thinks I feel bothered by driving her home, but I genuinely want to do it. I don't want to insist too much either, I know that'd bother her as well, so I just let her get away with what she wants to do.

—Send me a text when you get home —I ask her.

—Yup —she nods, smiling wide at me before she leaves.

[late-to-the-magnus-archives]

Fic Snippet - Malevolent Podcast

Really enjoying digging into these two, I'll have you know.

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

Oh, Arthur! says John the moment he gets a glimpse of Manhattan.

Arthur knows. Remembers what he used to see.

Will never see again.

The pull of bitterness is strong today, probably because he’s so tired; but the fact is that when Arthur had crawled, broken and bleeding, through the snow after John was taken away, he had not gotten his sight back.

His sight was gone. Whatever happened when John took his eyes, it was never returning to him.

Arthur doesn’t know how he’s going to resume life after this, or if there will even be an after. Blind private investigators aren’t in much demand.

And like hell is he ever going back to music.

But that’s all in the future, when they’re not facing down cults and gods. When they’re not on the run from police.

Right now, he can focus on John’s joy. “Like it?” he says.

Arthur, it’s like no city I’ve ever seen!

There are a lot more garbage smells than he remembered. “Tell me.” 

It’s… amazing. The buildings tower over us, Arthur. We’re all like ants, scurrying around  beneath giants who barely see us underfoot. Everything is dirty, and everything is alive; the snow lies in soot-stained piles against the curb, and people move quickly, like they have the most important place in the world to be. Their faces, Arthur… they’re all vibrant, focused. Not all happy, but so… determined. I feel like we’re in a place where anything can happen.

“That’s how I remember it,” Arthur says, keeping his voice low, though he suspects he doesn’t really need to. “Is anyone looking at us at all?”

Not even a little.

Arthur laughs. “You were right - we should have come here sooner. A city full of madmen, and we fit right in.”

He’s walking, blind, because he trusts John to tell him of any danger.

He trusts John, even though everything.

I am feeling bitter today, he thinks, and corrects his earlier thought: John hadn’t been taken from him. He’d left.

Arthur has no tools to deal with that moment. He understands, he does, that John did it to save him, because the King was breaking Arthur’s bones, because the King was hurting him so badly that all he could do was scream.

But Arthur had promised to protect him, to keep him safe. Arthur had gone through far worse than pain to do just that.

When John chose to leave, no matter the reason, it invalidated everything. The pain, the torture. The murder, the cannibalism. Everything.

What had been the point if John was going to roll over the moment it got bad?

That isn’t fair of Arthur, and he knows that, too, but he doesn’t know what to do about any of it.

He is a modern man of 1934. His only hope is that these things can and will be stuffed away forever, never surfacing, never felt. That’s what being a man meant: you did what you had to do.

Especially for your family. Especially for the one you love. 

That one was John.

I can’t believe how beautiful it all is, John continues, child-like wonder softening his frankly terrifying basso profundo.

Arthur smiles. “It’s quite marvelous, I know. I almost considered moving here, when I was getting everything figured out."

Why didn’t you? I’m sure there was plenty of work for someone with your skills.

“There was. But when I lived here before, I was studying music, composing. And… I spent a lot of time with Bella here. So. No, I don’t particularly care to live here again.”

Oh.

And just like that, the conversation stops because there are no safe stepping stones left in the water.

Because Bella meant Faroe. And music meant Faroe. Composing, especially, meant Faroe.

There would be no talking about Faroe.

Arthur ignores the little burnt part of his heart that responds to thoughts of his dead daughter, that still wants to murder Larson, that still wants to go back to that town and stab any presumed cultists in the head, that still wants to just hit and hit until there’s no one left to come after them.

It’s not good. He knows that. So he tries to push it away.

“Besides, it’s nicer in Arkham,” says Arthur, moving on. “It’s smaller, but there’s plenty of intrigue, and you don’t have to constantly watch for pickpockets.”

Pickpockets? John repeats, sounding absolutely offended.

“It’s why I tucked our money in such a safe place, John. Don’t worry.”

Disgusting.

“Desperate, honestly,” says Arthur. “Most of them would rather be doing anything else, but the Depression left them little opportunity. I’m lucky that neither of my career choices depended on things so easily ruined by a world at war.”

John sounds thoughtful. Stop here.

Arthur stops. Hears cars passing by. Waits, because John will tell him when it’s safe to go.

It seems like these are hard years for humans in general.

“They are. I’ve gotten to see the best of us, through it all; the kindest, most generous, the most clever and creative. I’ve also gotten to see the worst. The most hate-filled, the greediest, the cruelest imaginable.”

Another beat of silence while John thinks whatever he thinks about human affairs. You can go now. Step down for the curb.

Arthur walks, and John is silent until it’s time for the next curb. Step up. So that’s where you were when my book came to you.

“Where I was?”

Mentally. Emotionally. I’d wondered how you got to be where you were. After everything. After Parker helped you.

“I’m not sure I understand.”

Mailbox. Two steps right.

Arthur adjusts accordingly.

I mean… Your hope. The way you don’t give up on people.

Arthur can’t help but feel that’s pointed. “Except in the last few days, you mean.”

No, that’s not the same. That was personal. I get it, Arthur. You think I don’t know killing Larson represents killing the part of yourself you blame?

Arthur stops.

Puts his hand out, finds a wall. Leans.

His heart hurts. Aches. Like it’s expanding, squeezing out his lungs.

Walk it off, he thinks.

Arthur?

“Let’s change the subject.” Arthur tilts his head back against the crisp winter sun, enjoying the feel of daylight on his face, enjoying the cold breeze.

Trying to climb out of the place John just tripped him into.

Your throat scar shows that way, Arthur.

“Well, then they’ll just know I’m someone not to be fucked with,” says Arthur.

Also, I can’t see the sidewalk.

“Fine, fine. Sorry.” Arthur turns his face forward again.

And just like that, it’s over. Arthur certainly won’t be bringing it up again, and John is smart enough to let it go.

[tranquil-turbulence]

SS Month ‘23 - Day 17

Day 16 | Day 17 | Day 18

Prompt: Bending

WARNING(S): Mentions of war

Another peaceful day in the countryside of Earth country - or as peaceful as it could be with war looming on the horizon.

Sakura hummed a quiet tune as she tended her father’s garden. The family had fallen on some hard times as of late, and her mother had been forced to return to her tailoring business while her father continued to peddle his wares in the city.

The plants were coming along nicely; midsummer was always one of the best times of year for fresh, delicious fruits and veggies. The orange trees were ripe with tart, sweet oranges, and the carrots were so crisp she could almost sit in the dirt and eat as many as she pleased.

Her ears perked up as she heard her father’s grunting as he pulled his cart back down the road. Straightening up and dusting off her apron, she turned with a smile and a greeting on her tongue - only for it to turn concerned as her father lugged back a cart full of dirty - and some smashed - produce.

“Father, what happened?” She exclaimed, rushing to aid him.

“Some troublesome kids… in the square,” he puffed, nodding his thanks as she took over pushing the cart. “They knocked over my cart… and they ruined my cabbages!”

Dabbing at his forehead with a handkerchief, he grumbled to himself as they made their way back to the house. “Well, no use throwing them out. We’ll have to make soup out of ‘em tonight. Is your mother home yet?”

“Not yet. She got an emergency call from a client and has been gone all afternoon.” Sakura gently wheeled the cart to a stop and started gathering bunches of cabbage heads into her arms. “Here, Father - go sit down and drink some water. I’ll handle the cabbages.”

“You’re such a hardworking daughter.” Patting her cheek, he gave her a fond smile, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “What would we do without you?”

“Be forced to work the fields yourselves, I guess,” she joked, causing the two to share a laugh.

 ----------

 Night fell across the countryside stubbornly slowly, but as soon as the sun had faded from sight and the moon was making its voyage across the celestial skies, Sakura crept out to the well with a bucket in hand. The warm, cheerful summer breeze tickled her cheeks and tousled her hair; she hadn’t bothered putting it back up given how late it was.

Humming quietly to herself, she pumped fresh water into the bucket. She would have to rise early to get started on the vegetable stock; her mother had been terribly upset when they told her about the incident in the city, but was placated when Sakura had said she’d take care of the soup herself. They’d been getting too little sleep lately; she figured she could do at least this much.

As soon as she was done filling it with water, she hoisted it into her arms with a grunt. Once she was sure she had filled it full, a rustling in the bushes made her whirl around with a startled sound - and with a gasp, she dumped the entire bucket onto the figure creeping around in the garden.

A muffled shout hit her ears almost instantly, and a head popped up with a glare like fire. “What-- what the hell--?!”

“Shh!” She shoved a finger to his lips. “Would you be quiet? My parents are getting one of the best nights of sleep they’ve gotten this week! If you wake them up I’m not saving you!”

The sopping wet figure - a man, she presumed from the timbre in his voice and the way his hand grasped her wrist - only gave her a heated look in response. “That doesn’t mean you had to soak me!”

“You’re snooping around my father’s garden in the dead of the night, and you expect me not to douse you?”

Grumbling a little under his breath, the young man heaved a sigh - and to her surprise, steam escaped his nose. “Fair enough, I guess. I didn’t mean to startle you, I’m only looking for shelter for the night.”

Straightening up, she extended her hand with a huff. “Well, you could’ve started with that. Can I ask your name?”

The stranger paused, examining her with a critical eye.

“Look, I’m not gonna turn you in if it happens that you’re some kind of wanted criminal. Unless you’re on the run for rape or serial murder, or something. Then I might get a little… concerned.”

“I’m not on the run for that,” the stranger balked, finally taking her hand. His was calloused, larger, with a warmth that felt too strong for a normal civilian. “I’m… Sasuke. I am on the run, but… just until I can make my way home.”

As she helped him to his feet, she hummed thoughtfully under her breath. “Sasuke… hm, that doesn’t ring a bell. Wait one minute, would you? Let me get you a towel and a robe.”

Hurrying away, she slipped into the house and went straight for her parents’ room. Her father was a naturally heavy sleeper, and her mother had come to tune out everything as she slept - especially her husband’s snoring. She was able to creep in, grab one of her father’s smaller robes, and get back out, stopping by the bathroom to get a fresh towel.

She was more than a little surprised to see that Sasuke had done as she’d asked, standing there patiently as he scanned the landscape with a critical eye.

“Here,” she began, making him turn back to face her as she held out a robe and a towel. “You can change under the awning. I won’t peek.”

He murmured a thanks and did as directed, his shoes squeaking and sloshing with water every step as he began drying off his long hair. It fell heavy along his shoulders and back, thick and unruly, and briefly the young woman wondered about what it was like to comb through it.

Shaking her head to clear it of those thoughts, she turned away as clothing rustled and dropped to the dirt. She waited until he called softly to her before turning around, cupping her hand over her mouth to conceal the amusement as she saw how her father’s robes hung off of his frame. Lithe he was, but there was a hint of muscle in his arms underneath the heavy fabric.

“Sorry,” she said, voice colored with humor, “that was the smallest one he has. I didn’t think it would be too big of a difference…”

“It’s fine for now,” Sasuke sighed as he gathered his clothes up into the towel. “What do I do with these?”

“Well, I have to do laundry tomorrow morning anyways, so I’ll put them with my clothes for now.” At his skeptical look, she added, “Don’t worry, I’m not gonna do anything bad with them. It’s better I hide them among my things than have my mother question me tomorrow.”

Nodding slowly, he shuffled from foot to foot. “So… would you mind letting me stay here for the night? Just until tomorrow - I have to keep moving.”

“I don’t see why not - I mean, it’s the least I can do after soaking you.” Lips tugging into a smile, she gestured towards the shed. “I’ll get some of my bedding so you won’t have to sleep on the cold floor.”

He watched as she turned to go, before a thought struck him and he reached forward to grasp her elbow. “Wait.”

She turned, confusion in her face.

“I, uh, I never got your name,” he added quietly.

“Oh, that’s right. I’m sorry, I’m a bit scatterbrained. My name is Sakura.”

“Sa- ku- ra…” he tested it out on his tongue. “Ah. Like the flower?”

“What gave it away?” She inquired wryly, tossing her petal-pink hair over one shoulder. To her delight, he chuckled. “I’ll be right back with some blankets. You’ll have to wait until my parents leave early in the morning, but when they do you can come in for some breakfast before you head out.”

 ----------

 Morning came all too quickly. Sakura rose before dawn, beginning with the clothes as her mother cooked breakfast. By the time she sent her parents on their way with a kiss on the cheek and a lunch for her father, she was heading to the garden shed with a basket of clean clothes.

“Sasuke?” She knocked gently on the door. “They’re gone, if you want some breakfast.”

There was some shuffling from inside, before the door opened and Sasuke blinked down at her, still seeming a bit sleepy. (She swallowed, fighting to keep her eyes on his face and not wandering down to the delicious trail of muscle peeking out of his robe.)

“H- here!” She offered up the basket of clothes with a flushed face. “Just come in whenever you’re ready!”

Hurrying away from the shed, she went back into the house and into the kitchen. Stirring the leftover rice, she fried up more egg and fresh vegetables before turning her attention to the stock still simmering over the fire.

Her impromptu visitor was certainly mysterious. Only a handsome visage and a first name? She’d never seen him around before, nor his exotic features - and judging by the fact that he was apparently a wanted man, she wondered just what it was that would make him go through the countryside. What had he done to invoke the wrath of the law?

One part of her huffed at that question. The better one would be what hadn’t he done; the governors were getting much, much stricter these days, and the looming threat of the Fire Nation invading and conquering their land was good cause to lock down their citizens, she supposed. But for such a man who appeared to be a foreigner? Where had she seen his features before…?

Her train of thought was interrupted by the young man himself walking into the kitchen, rolling up his sleeves.

“O- oh, Sasuke!” She turned and paused, confused. “What are you doing?”

“Helping,” he answered, as if it were obvious. “What do you need me to do?”

She shifted from foot to foot, glancing at the broth before going to the eggs. “If you don’t mind keeping an eye on the egg, I’ll take care of the soup.”

Nodding silently, he walked past her up to the frying egg while she moved towards the fire. His long, dark hair had been pulled back with a ribbon, accentuating his pale features.

She absentmindedly stirred the soup as she looked him over with a critical eye.

“Something on your mind?” He inquired, glancing up at her. His piercing midnight irises seemed to click with a memory, and she blinked rapidly.

“H- huh? Oh, it’s nothing,” she answered, shaking her head and waving it off.

“Well, the egg is done cooking.” He moved the pan off of the stove.

Working quickly, she grabbed a bowl and portioned off some rice, then the egg, and finally a smaller bowl of vegetable soup. She set them all in front of him with a steaming cup of tea.

She sat down before him as he ate, propping her chin up in her hand.

She waited for him to look up from his food, swallowing, before commenting, “I think I remember where I’ve seen you before.”

She watched as his body tensed, eyes growing wary as they searched her face.

“You’re… you’re him, right? The runaway…?” She trailed off, mimicking the Fire Nation salute.

Sasuke looked around the room before heaving a sigh through his nose. “I knew you Earth Kingdom folk were too clever for your own good.”

She waited for him to swallow the last of his tea before getting up to fetch the kettle. As she sat back down, he spoke. “Yes, I am. I’m not supposed to be here at all; I’m supposed to be finding the fabled Son of the Winds, but along the way I realized… I’m just on a wild goose chase.” He shrugged his shoulders loosely. “So I’ve been trying to make a new life for myself here as a refugee. I guess I got too careless though - some guy found out I’m--” he mimicked the salute, more accurately than she had, “-- so he turned me in to the Dai Li. I can’t stay in the Earth Kingdom lest I want to go to prison, so I’ve been making my way south. I’m hoping I could settle in a forest somewhere, a place where nobody will recognize who I am.”

“And… the hair is supposed to help hide you, right?” She gestured to his untamed locks. “Because I have to admit, I never would have realized who you were had you not looked at me exactly as the wanted poster.”

His cheeks flushed a pale pink, and he nodded. “Y- yeah…”

“Well.” Heaving a sigh, she leaned back on her knees. “I’m gonna be blunt, I don’t think there are a lot of good options unless you want to go full hermit and bunk down in a cave somewhere.”

Taking a sip of soup, he murmured, “That’s the plan, I suppose.”

Shifting from side to side, she looked back at him intently. “... I might have a good solution, if you’d like.”

He swallowed the bite of rice he’d taken, curious.

“If you wanted… it’s a small place, but I’d love some extra help around here.” Gesturing around the room, she gave him a crooked smile. “It’ll take some adjusting - especially for my father - but we could make room . You could stay here, if you wanted.”

Sasuke’s eyes widened a fraction in surprise, and he quickly ducked his head. “I wouldn’t want to impose.”

“Nonsense, there’s no such thing.” She waved it off. “You know how much needs done around here? I’m lucky if Mother gets a day off just to help me with the laundry. I’d love an extra pair of hands on deck.”

The young prince said nothing for a long while, taking another bite and chewing slowly. His brow was furrowed in thought.

Finally, he swallowed, and looked up at her. “What do you want in return?”

“Except for someone to help me out? Not much,” she admitted with a shrug. “Just because I know who you really are doesn’t mean I’m inclined to turn you in. My parents aren’t massive fans of the Fire Nation - hell, nobody around here really is - but they won’t care if a refugee needs a place to stay.”

Nodding his head jerkily, he hummed. His voice rippled in his throat and sent a pleasurable shiver across her shoulders.

“If you breathe a word about my identity, I’m gone,” he stated firmly, fixing her in place with an intense stare.

“My lips are sealed,” she answered, just as seriously.

After another moment, he got up from the table, bowl in hand. “Very well. In exchange for hiding me here I’ll lend my services, starting with the dishes.”

[calciseptinefic]

then out of nowhere, somebody comes and hits you with an ooh la la la, ooh la la la, ooh la la la, ooh

Marvel || Wade Wilson/Peter Parker || Part 9 notes: Title from 'Mad Sounds' by Arctic Monkeys. Many thanks to babygato for her beta on this chapter. this fic is also available on ao3 warnings: none

.

← previous: Part 8

.

The clock in the right hand corner of Wade's laptop reads 2:53 AM as he pulls the files Weasel emailed him. Compared to some dossiers Wade's read in the past—both for the government and for private contracts—there isn't much. A small digital stack of records that boil Peter's entire existence down to its skeleton, devoid of the details that flesh it out into a life:

A birth certificate, a government-issued ID, a marriage license. Medical records. Multiple education transcripts, scholarships, and science-related awards and accolades, as well as various research papers and a Ph.D. dissertation. Bank and credit card statements. A 401(k) retirement plan and several years' worth of tax returns. A lease agreement.

Sitting atop his unmade bed, legs crossed and hunched over the computer, Wade cracks his knuckles and begins. The first thing he does is pull up Peter's ID. It was issued several years ago and the picture of him isn't great, as most identification pictures are; yet despite the grainy quality and the bad lighting, the man depicted looks the same as the man sleeping on Wade's couch. Brown hair, brown eyes, button nose. The only difference is that his curls are a little longer in the photo, hanging messily past his ears.

Kinda mad scientist looking, Wade thinks fondly.

Wade goes through every document meticulously. He learns that Peter was born on August 10th to Richard and Mary Parker. He doesn't drive—unsurprising, considering he was born and raised in New York City—and he grew up in Bayside. During middle school and high school, he won first place eight separate times in various science fairs and—as an undergrad—he was an honors student who graduated with a 3.8 GPA. He has a prescription for an MDI to treat mild asthma; a generic prescription for generalized anxiety; and prescription glasses for moderate myopia.



And according to the date on the marriage license, he and MJ have been married for nearly five years.

Five fucking years, Wade thinks. Peter would have been twenty-one, married in the brief pause between finishing his bachelor's and starting his doctorate.

When Wade was twenty-one, he was in Indonesia. He spent his time picking up Malay, developing a tolerance for spicy food, and trailing various members of an extremist group who sold dirty bombs on the black market. Marriage had been the last thing on his mind. Hell, marriage hadn't even occurred to Wade until he was dying of cancer. For months he wondered if it would be kinder to leave Vanessa as a dead boyfriend or a dead husband; when he finally proposed, Wade could barely hold his arm up, and Vanessa had just cried, and cried, and cried.

He guessed that meant no.

Inhaling deeply through the nose, Wade sets Peter's marital status aside and delves into the other documents, focusing mostly on his academic accomplishments instead of personal information. Interestingly, the scientific papers Peter has co-authored are focused on spider silk: the elucidated molecular structure of various species, mechanical properties, and potential benefits of a bioengineered polymer combined with inorganic nanoparticles.

I synthesize it in a lab, Peter had said. It's definitely not... organic.

Peter's dissertation is a variation on this theme, and the company he works for develops unique polymers for 'sustainable and long-term use'. Wade wonders if that's where Peter creates the web-fluid he used the night before to immobilize Wade's hand and gun. Personally, Wade can't think of any way such a thing could be used commercially. He can think of ten different ways it might be weaponized, but he's also an ex-soldier turned man-for-hire, and he sees the world differently than a scientist invested in renewable resources.

Maybe the military saw it differently, too.

Yet despite Wade's hunch—that Peter's powers came from top secret government hijinks—nothing Weasel sent him indicates that Peter's tied up in anything of the sort. There isn't even a hint of suspiciousness. If there is a larger power at work behind everything, then they've done an incredible job of hiding their involvement.

Pulling up Peter's bank and credit card statements, Wade does not see anything unusual either. Rent payments, student loan payments, various subscriptions, and other random purchases. Most of the extraneous charges hover around $10 to $15. Lunch, Wade guesses, or take out. The most recent statement ended over a week ago, however, so if there was any disruption to Peter's normal card usage, Wade can't confirm it.

Wade sighs. As Weasel said earlier, Peter is a dead end.

The last thing Wade opens is Peter's lease agreement. It's a decent apartment in Astoria—one bedroom, one bath—with a monthly payment that's neither cheap nor exorbitant for its location and size. Both Peter Parker and Mary Jane Watson are listed as legal occupants. They've had it for three years, and the address listed is different from the one on Peter's ID card. Technically Peter should have gotten a new ID when he moved but—

Wait.

Wade's eyes crawl back up to the address listed.

It's familiar. Not in the 'I've lived in New York City for seven years and I know my way around' kind of way but the 'I know this place well enough to start ignoring the street signs' kind of way. A strange feeling comes over Wade as he pulls up Google Maps and types Peter's address in, hitting the 'enter' key with more force than necessary.

The page loads.

Peter's apartment is a mile away. One point two miles to be exact. An easy fifteen minute walk. Wade knows because he's made it many, many times since moving into his current apartment, at least once every two weeks. Sometimes more.

That's by my favorite Thai place. Wade runs a hand over his buzzed hair, stopping at the nape of his neck and squeezing the tense muscle. I could have walked past him a hundred times.

And maybe... Maybe Wade has.

Staring at the tiny red pin on the map, Wade feels the sharp scratch of realization inside his skull. One of the biggest mysteries Wade has not been able to solve was why Peter latched onto Wade. If Peter was indeed from this universe, as Wade mostly believed, why him?

At first Wade thought it was purely coincidence. Maybe Peter had scuttled into Wade's apartment at random and imprinted on him, his trauma-riddled brain constructing an entire backstory in the five seconds they stared at each other. Unlikely, Wade knew, but so was super strength and sticking to the ceiling.

A smaller part of Wade—a part he had been actively ignoring until now—wondered if it went back even further. Wade enlisted on his eighteenth birthday and had been an active soldier until his dishonorable discharge at twenty-six. He's been all over the world. Done a lot of things. Met a lot of people. It's doubtful that Wade met a barely legal Peter during his last year of service, as most of it was spent being a grunt protecting capitalism's investments in the Middle East, yet there was no way to be sure. Wade really doesn't want to think that he was in any way involved, even unknowingly, but...

Again.

There is nothing probable about Wade's current situation. In fact, Wade would say that his situation lands firmly outside the visible portion of the bell curve, in one of those tail ends that stretches out infinitely towards 'not gonna fucking happen'. Except it is fucking happening and Wade has to figure out how to navigate the impossibilities.

This, though. The fact that Peter's listed address is right next to one of Wade's favorite and most frequented restaurants. Maybe Peter saw him, time and again for years while Wade remained oblivious. Maybe Peter's break from reality was a long time coming and the resulting delusion had been crafted from slowly collected details. Wade is loud and he often overshares in the form of a bad joke; it wouldn't have been hard for Peter to learn things about him, especially the cancer.

And all that stuff he asked you? It was specific, but what did he really know about you? whispers the forever rational and unforgiving corner of Wade's brain. He acts like he knows you, trusts you, but he doesn't actually know anything. You just wanted to believe it and so you did.

This new insight explains why Peter might have latched onto Wade instead of one of the other eight point five million people living in New York City. Sure, it would still be a coincidence that Peter constructed a false reality with Wade as one of the major players, but the coincidence has firm roots in Wade's routines and—most importantly—it makes sense.

"Still doesn't tell me jack shit," Wade mutters. He is no closer to finding out the truth than he was an hour ago. All he has are mundane details attached to an exceptional person, and that leaves him with two options:

Option #1: Let Weasel and Peter do their respective research and go from there, or Option #2: Be proactive.

Wade quickly considers the pros and cons of both before deciding on the latter. He's never been the kind of person to sit around and wait; inaction makes him antsy, and the more antsy he gets, the more... inventive his responses become. It is truly in everyone's best interest that Wade tackles this mystery immediately instead of making him mull over more possibilities while he rigs increasingly dangerous C4 explosives in the spare bedroom.

Besides, Wade's approach is unique from Weasel and Peter's. They approach situations from more cerebral angles, and nerds like them tend to forget that most people are dumb, basic animals. Sometimes the best intel can't be gathered digitally. It needs to be found under a not so metaphorical squeaky floorboard or stuffed in a not so metaphorical mattress.

Or, in this case, from a not so metaphorical apartment in Astoria.

Tomorrow—or today, considering the late hour—is Thursday, which is a good day to break into someone's apartment. Most people tend to be at work during the day on weekdays and, in an apartment complex, this means there are less people around to potentially catch you when you jimmy open a door. Obviously, Peter won't be there, but MJ? Wade knows nothing about her other than she's married to Peter, including if she has a job that will remove her from the premises so Wade can snoop safely and uninterrupted.

Opening a new tab on his browser, Wade searches for 'Mary Jane Watson'. He knows that it isn't the most effective way to search for people, but he's hoping that he'll get lucky and—

Whoa.

The images that show up under the search bar feature a red-headed bombshell with beautiful green eyes, a femme-fatale smile, and old Hollywood glamor. She's wearing full make-up and gorgeous dresses in every photo, posed against varying sponsored backdrops. Below the small collage of pictures are links to several social media accounts and a Wikipedia page. Wade skims the small 'ABOUT' section that automatically populates on the right-hand side of the page. She's an up-and-coming actress that's played various small television roles, was born the same year as Peter, and... is married to Peter Parker.

"Holy shit," Wade says because, honestly, holy shit.

Wade doesn't know what he expected from Peter's spouse. Held at gunpoint, he would probably describe Peter but in lady form: someone good-looking but not immediately arresting, until the details and personality came out like a sucker punch. Wade isn't downplaying Peter's physical attractiveness—far, far from it—but MJ is Jessica Rabbit levels of hot, the kind of hot that gets wolf-whistles and double-takes.

Wade hadn't been that hot even before his face was permanently disfigured.

Not that it matters, Wade berates himself. It's not a competition. He's already married her.

Scrubbing a hand over the lower half of his scar, the thick line of keratin smooth beneath his touch, Wade ignores the re-emerged jealousy bubbling acridly in his gut and thinks about what MJ's career means for his plan. As an actress, her hours are less predictable than the average salaried schmuck. Of course, this won't stop Wade; there's no fun in a little B&E without the element of uncertainty. He'll just have to compensate for potentially barging in on Peter's starlet wife.

Having decided on his course of action, Wade exits out of everything on his laptop, closes it, then sets it underneath the bed frame. He makes sure he has an alarm set, checks that his gun is underneath the opposite pillow, then turns off the bedside lamp. He lays back down and spreads his limbs wide, the cotton sheets pleasantly cool against his bare feet and naked forearms. None of the deep shadows on the ceiling or in the corners of his bedroom move. Yet unlike the night before, when Wade had passed out almost immediately after making Peter pancakes, sleep will not come to him. His thoughts keep turning in an effort to make connections that aren't there and, in the end, he keeps asking himself one question:

What do an ex-soldier, a quantum information scientist, a monk in Nepal, a vintage car mechanic, and an actress all have in common?

.

Wade wakes. His hand is under the pillow, gripping the handle of his gun—but it was the familiar blare of his alarm that woke him, not panic, and his fingers slide away easily. It takes more effort to roll to the side and grab his phone off the bedside table, hit snooze and drop it on the mattress next to him.

He falls asleep again.

Wakes.

Snooze.

Snooze.

Snooze.

Half an hour after his original alarm, Wade sits up. 9:37. He yawns, mouth opening so wide it hurts the hinge of his jaw. Untangles his legs from the sheets and shuffles across the room. Opens the door, looks at Peter still asleep on the couch, and shuffles into the bathroom. Brushes his teeth. Hops in the shower and pees down the drain. His dumb, traitorous dick grows hot as he scrubs his body down; his hand is nice and slippery with soap, and this is usually when he starts to jack it.

"Not today, buddy," Wade tells his pitifully hopeful half-chub, the head poking out tentatively from the foreskin like a question. "Letting you drive the car yesterday was a mistake."

Wade gets out of the shower, skin pink, and wipes the condensation off the mirror to look at the rough stubble of his face. A few white hairs are growing on his chin to match the ones on his temples, but he once again postpones shaving. He rubs on some moisturizer—he isn't a heathen—and some deodorant. No cologne though, because cologne is a bad idea for both stealth missions and inappropriate wooing.

Wrapping his towel around his waist, Wade exits the bathroom. Glances over into the living room. Peter is barely cognizant, sitting up with his hair a fluffy halo around his face. Seeing him awake surprises Wade somehow, and he stops halfway between his bathroom and bedroom, dripping on the floor.

"Morning," Wade says reflexively.

Peter groans, the barest approximation of human speech.

"Bathroom's free, if you want." The combination of his lack of mental coherency from having just woken up and his almost nakedness make Wade feel wrong-footed. "I was gonna get dressed and start breakfast. Sound good?"

"Coffee too?" Peter garbles.

"Like either of us can function without it."

Peter turns his head to look at Wade, eyes flickering down the length of him: skin still damp, thighs barely contained by the towel, nipples tight in the cool air.

"Mmm," Peter hums, eyes half-lidded. "Okay."

Wade all but retreats into his room and tries to tell himself that there is no way—absolutely no fucking way—that Peter was checking him out. People just did that sometimes. Looked at other people. Especially when said other people were mostly naked and wet and standing like a fool in the hallway. And Peter's eyes were glazed because he was still sleepy and not because he liked what he saw and wanted to get all up on that—

Wade's dick gives another valiant twitch.

"No," Wade hisses at the little eager bump beneath the towel. "Down boy."

Once again ignoring his dick, Wade dresses in briefs, socks, and black joggers, and layers a black crewneck over a long sleeve shirt. He also picks out new clothes for Peter. Peter can wear the jeans from yesterday again, but Wade grabs a fresh pair of socks, a plain white tee, and a sturdy flannel.

After that, Wade opens the bottom drawer of his dresser and pulls out a pair of gloves and a balaclava, a lock-pick set, a camera detector, and two tactical daggers in clip-on sheaths. All of these go into one trusty fanny pack, which he takes out of the bedroom with him and hangs next to his jacket by the front door. He also brings the clean clothes with him; Peter has already ensconced himself in the bathroom, so Wade sets them on the floor.

"Pete!" Wade half-yells, knocking on the bathroom door. "Clothes!"

"Thanks!" Peter shouts back.

While Peter showers, Wade brews coffee, toasts the leftover bagels from yesterday, fries up four sunny-side up eggs, and heats the pre-made sausage patties in the microwave. The bagels, eggs, and sausage patties are assembled into breakfast sandwiches, one for Wade and three for Peter. Peter emerges as Wade is pouring the coffee out into clean mugs.

"Looks good." Peter sits on the barstool, wet hair sticking to his forehead and neck.

"Hot sauce?" Wade asks as he sets a mug in front of Peter. "I have Cholula or fiery habanero."

"I do not have your spice tolerance, Wade. Do you have ketchup?"

"Firstly, fuck you, you vile blasphemer," Wade says even as he moves towards the refrigerator to get Peter his bland condiment. "And secondly, get out of my house."

Peter merely smiles sweetly, shakes up the bottle after Wade hands it to him, and squeezes a huge dollop onto the plate. Wade slathers his own breakfast sandwich with the fiery habanero hot sauce as though proving a point.

They are quiet as they eat. Neither one of them mentions the night before. It was too emotionally raw and—if Peter is like Wade—he'll need a few days to process before he can talk about it with minimal deflection. By the time Wade has finished his singular breakfast sandwich, sucking the grease and traces of hot sauce off his fingers, Peter is already starting on his third.

"I have never seen anyone eat as fast as you do," Wade says. "Can I just say how impressed I am by your ability to unhinge your jaw like a snake? Or is that a secret spider power too?"

"Sometimes, if you don't eat fast while on patrol, you don't eat at all. Do you know how many times I've left a half-finished sub on a rooftop only to find it gone when I came back? Too many."

"What the hell was taking it?"

"It's New York," Peter answers with a shrug. "A rat? A cockroach? A particularly tenacious pigeon? I don't know and I don't wanna know."

"Crazy," Wade mutters because, yeah, he doesn't want to know either. He takes a swig of his coffee and changes the subject. "Anyway, I'm gonna head out soon. Got a new job from Weasel yesterday."

"The boring stuff?"

"A dead end," Wade answers truthfully. "I'm gonna see if I can't dig up a little more. Shouldn't take me too long, and I can pick something up for lunch after. Do you like Thai?"

Peter hums in affirmation. Nothing about his expression or body language changes. Not that Wade was expecting it to, but people could be odd about their triggers; if Peter associates Wade with Thai food at all, he doesn't show it.

Putting their plates and his mug into the sink—the dirty dishes starting to build into a precarious mountain—Wade retrieves his laptop and charger and sets it up in the living room so Peter has something to do while he's gone. Peter smiles at Wade and thanks him as he grabs his boots and laces them snug.

"Try not to get arrested," Peter says.

"No promises," Wade answers as he clips on his fanny pack. Then—with a cheeky salute—Wade is out the door, down the stairs, and on his way to commit a class A misdemeanor.

.

The apartment building is a brick, post-war walk-up with fire escapes crawling down three of the four sides. Unfortunately for Wade, each side is highly exposed to the semi-busy street below and—even if they weren't—he has no idea which one will lead him into the correct apartment. So he goes in the old-fashioned way: through the front door.

Peter's apartment is labeled with vinyl stickers, a black, italicized 4-B printed against a white, rhomboid vinyl. Wade stands there for several minutes, eyes closed, and listens. The fourth floor and apartment 4-B are still and silent. Wade cannot hear anything, not even the murmur of a television or the shuffle of a moving person, so he opens his eyes, unzips his fanny pack, and crouches down onto one knee.

Years of experience guide Wade through the next minute without hesitation or thought. He needs everything he put in the fanny pack, so he takes care of each item as he randomly pulls it out. The tactical daggers get strapped to his boots; the balaclava gets pulled over his head; the camera detector is set down on the ground by his left heel; the lock pick set is placed by his right knee; the half-eaten bag of shark gummies—

Ooh, shark gummies! Wade thinks. He takes one of the gummies out of the bag and pops it into his mouth. Must be from last time. Thank you, past me, for your generosity and forethought.

The shark gummies go next to the camera detector, and his gloves go next to the lock pick set, which he grabs now that his fanny pack is empty. He pulls out two of the picks and—in under ten seconds—has the key pins leveled at the shear line, opening the lock. He gently twists the doorknob and cracks the door, peeking inside.

It's dark.

Empty.

Wade exhales slowly and puts the picks back, then stows the set and the shark gummies. He dons his gloves, then grabs the camera detector with his left hand. Stands. Opens the door and steps inside, using the hem of his crewneck to wipe the doorknob free of prints. Closes the door. There's a security guard bolted to the jamb that Wade uses; if anyone tries to get in while he's there, it will buy him at least a few seconds to exit via the fire escape.

Without turning on the light, Wade gives the apartment a cursory glance. It's a nice place. Renovated recently—within the last few years—and has the neutral walls, white molding, and nice wood veneer flooring that are currently popular. To Wade's left is a small coat closet, which then turns into a small galley kitchen. A decent sized living room. Two doors beyond that, both ajar, identified easily as the entrances to the bedroom and bathroom. Both of those rooms are dark as well, but Wade quietly beelines to the bedroom to make sure the no one is sleeping.

Again, empty.

Wade sighs with relief, shoulders sagging. He has definitely walked into occupied rooms in the past, and the fallout generally involves being shot at.

Turning back, Wade goes back into the living room, flipping on both the overhead lights and his camera detector. He brought it to check for recording devices, in case the military had eyes on the place, and the first thing he does is a methodical sweep of the space. When nothing causes bounce back, he begins to search. Wade doesn't know what he's looking for exactly, but he figures that he'll either know it when he sees it or he'll get lucky and find a USB taped somewhere weird.

Wade really hopes he find a USB. To him, it's the modern equivalent of finding buried treasure.

In the living room, Wade opens every drawer, both of the tv console and the side tables; he checks under the couch, under the couch cushions, and in the couch cushions; and he checks behind the television and on top of the ceiling fan's blades. He finds nothing but dust and crumbs there so—with a put out sigh—Wade moves to the kitchen.

The kitchen is a little messy. Crusty dishes are stacked up in the sink, the counters are cluttered with appliances, and unopened mail is littered about in various piles. There are take out containers and a bag of wilted lettuce in the fridge. The trash can is full of wrappers, empty cans of seltzer, and the boxes of microwave meals. The oven desperately needs to be cleaned, bits of old food charred lumps carbonized to the bottom floor. Wade scours every inch of the kitchen but—once again—he finds nothing.

"If this is another fucking dead end..." Wade mutters as he moves to the bathroom to start the process over again.

The bathroom is where Wade starts to put together the puzzle pieces. It is as vaguely dirty as the rest of the apartment, a swatch of disarray layered over by a thin tinge of neglect, but the lack of cleanliness isn't what makes him suspicious. It's the fact that every single product in the bathroom is geared towards men. The gray bottle of two-in-one shampoo and conditioner. The Irish Spring soap. The razors, the deodorant, the body spray. The dark blue towels and washcloths. The rumpled bathmat and single PEVA shower curtain.

There isn't a single thing in the bathroom that indicates a woman lives here at all: no products, no make-up, not evening a fucking tampon.

Leaving the bathroom, Wade enters the bedroom. Scans for cameras, finds none. Goes to the closet and sees only button downs and slacks and blazers hanging from nice wooden hangers. There's a dresser below that has more clothes in it: folded jeans and colored seersucker shorts, a pair of red swimming trunks, graphic t-shirts, underwear and socks.

No clues.

No trace of MJ, either.

Going to the bed, Wade kneels to check underneath the frame. A lone sock is balled up underneath with the dust bunnies. Nothing else. Wade groans and gets back up. Eyes the large, unmade bed. A mess of blankets and two standard pillows, one more rumpled than the other. Wade imagines Peter sleeping, curls splayed across the sheets, mouth slightly open.

"Eh," Wade says aloud as he eyes the pillow. "Fuck it."

Tugging the balaclava off, Wade flops face down onto the bed, feet hanging off the edge and nose smushed into the pillow. He's being a creep—he knows that—but the action itself is harmless. So he breathes in, and in, and in.

Detergent. Shampoo, soap, and sleep sweat. The faintest traces of musk.

Peter.

Rolling onto his back, Wade reaches into his fanny pack and pulls out the remaining shark gummies. They're a little stale and extra chewy, giving him something to physically gnaw on while he mulls over the reality that Peter's apartment is overwhelming ordinary. There is no surveillance of any kind and there was nothing unusual to be found. Which is weird. Military institutions love to keep close tabs on their pet projects. If Peter isn't being monitored, then no one knows he's missing or...

Or no one knows he has superpowers.

It's an idea that Wade hasn't had before. Perhaps Peter is one of those crazy scientists who believed so firmly in his own research that he injected himself with spider DNA and kept the results a secret. Or maybe that story Peter told Wade two nights ago—in which he was bitten by a radioactive spider—contains a kernel of truth. Either explanation feels too good to be true; in Wade's experience, nothing is ever so simple or easy.

And then there is the fact that MJ does not live here.

It doesn't add up. The lease Weasel pulled says that both Peter Parker and Mary Jane Watson rent this apartment. Peter says he's married and wears the ring. But there's no trace of another person in the apartment, despite what the lease says. If MJ ever lived here, she hasn't for at least the past several weeks.

Wade sighs, annoyed.

Another dead end.

Swallowing the last masticated shark gummy, Wade pulls his phone out of his pocket and checks the time. 1:16. He's been combing through Peter's apartment for over two hours. He should leave soon, go get enough Thai to knock a normal man into a tryptophan-induced coma, and head back to his place. After lunch and a nap, he can scroll through some of the social media accounts MJ and see if he can't track her down. Peter wanted to keep distance between himself and his loved ones, but...

The thing is, Wade's been doing shifty stuff since he actively went against orders and was slapped with a dishonorable discharge. Stuff that would have gotten him into trouble with the law if he was caught and stuff that have gotten him into actual trouble with the lawless who hunted him down. He's done some not shifty stuff too, like dog-walking and helping old couples move heavy boxes and threatening people's abusive dirtbag exes. But mostly it's been shitty, because Wade is very, very good at doing the shitty stuff.

Doing recon on the wife?

Well, it's shitty, but it won't be the shittiest thing Wade's ever done. So he gets up, takes one final look at the semi-depressing bachelor pad that is Peter's apartment, and leaves.

.

The Thai place Wade frequents is down the block and around the corner. It takes about twenty minutes for his order to be finished and he spends that time sitting at one of the small tables, mindlessly scrolling through MJ's public and personal instagram accounts.

There is a lot of content, but all of it is curated: no bad angles, no controversy, no wedding ring. Even the selfies are flawless. Wade cannot begin to imagine how exhausting that must be. Sure, his scar is ugly, and he's violently reminded of its existence every time a stranger looks at him for longer than a glance, but that's just his face. Having every inch of yourself scrutinized by thousands—by millions—must be awful.

"Wade!" the man behind the counter calls. "Order 67! Wade!"

The shout knocks Wade out of his thoughts. He pockets his phone, thanks the worker, and takes the two plastic bags stuffed with styrofoam take-out containers.

Outside, the brisk spring air nips Wade's cheeks and keeps him cool as he walks home. The foot traffic is light but his eyes still flit around, checking buildings and other people out of long habit, before unconsciously settling on the back of a man's head about twenty feet in front of him. The man is shorter than Wade, with brown hair and a lean body. The jeans he's wearing do little to hide his frankly spectacular ass and, when he turns his head to the side, Wade can see that his glasses have slipped down his nose. It's a cute nose, round and upturned, and—

"Peter?" Wade says loudly, abruptly.

The man stops—

Turns around—

And in the space of heartbeat, as Wade stares at the familiar face of Peter Benjamin Parker, a shadow emerges from the adjacent alley to drag him away.

.

next → : Part 10

.

[missvelvetsstuff]

Friday's Place

Bucky Barnes x Reader

mob au

Notes: Sorry for the delayed update. Had an awesome road trip with my dad all across Nevada and up Oregon to Washington. Saw lots of cool sights the best one being real live WILD HORSES in Northern Nevada. Check one item off of my bucket list.

WARNINGS: swearing, angst

Chapter 5

After Friday left the house Vis called Tony and told him about Brock's latest threats against her. When Tony's phone rang and he saw it was Bucky he chuckled as he answered. They agreed to meet the next day for breakfast.

When Bucky arrived at Tony's the next morning, he was already pacing a hole in the carpet. Tony looked up to greet him but Bucky spoke first.

"We have a problem Tony." Bucky started. "I spoke to Pierce last night and he won't back down. Said he would kill Friday himself if she didn't sell. I won't let that happen."

Tony ran his hand down his face. "Jesus, he wants a war." He sat down

"You're right, we can't let anything happen to her. I've only met her a couple of times but Pepper bonded with her because she used to be horsey too. They get together for brunch or lunch and go riding together. She's going to help us find a pony for Morgan and give her riding lessons. Pepper would kill me if I didn't do everything I can to keep her safe. Plus Friday is bff's with Visions wife, Wanda would be devastated if anything happened to her

So what's the play?"

Bucky thought for a minute "We need to upgrade her security but she will fight it if I'm the one suggesting it so you should talk to her. She doesn't like me much"

Tony laughed "I picked that up when she dressed you down at the hospital. I would not want to be on her bad side. What did you do? Forget to call her the next day?"

Bucky shook his head "Just expressed my interest in her after she saw me with Brock's investors at the city council meeting about his development. Apparently Brock has been hitting on her, telling Sharon that Friday was hitting on him so she has to deal with Sharon too."

"From what I've heard from Vis, Sharon and Friday have history."

Bucky looked surprised so Tony kept going. "Sharon never mentioned her when you were together?"

Bucky shrugged "Sharon is a vindictive bitch. It's tough trying to keep up with her enemies list. Besides, talking was never really our thing"

"Fair enough. I can talk to Friday and have Rhodey pick out a couple of trustworthy people on my security team." Tony paused, thinking, then snapped his fingers. "I'll send Carol, Maria and Val to take shifts and make sure she's covered at all times. They are three of my best and hopefully Friday will feel more comfortable with women."

Bucky nodded "Sounds good to me. I'll be doing my own surveillance and drive by her place a few times a day. Best if I stay out of sight. She really hates me and I don't know what I did."

Tony looked at him with wide eyes "Drive by? You must really like her. I haven't seen you like this about a woman since-"

Bucky gave him a dirty look "Don't be an ass Tony. I feel responsible for not reining Brock in sooner, that's all."

"Obviously not if you care about her hating you. I get it, it's rough, probably been awhile since anyone has turned you down, huh?" Tony could barely contain his laughter.

Bucky glared at him "What's the deal with her and Sharon? I know Peggy left Friday the stable but Sharon already has better horse facilities than most show stables. I should know, I paid for it all. Plus her family money. Doesn't make sense."

Tony shrugged "Like you said, Sharon is a vindictive bitch. Who knows what Friday did or didn't do to piss her off. Probably forgot to say bless you when she sneezed. How the Hell did you put up with that woman for 2 years?"

Bucky sighed "She got pregnant right after we got together. I tried to do the right thing. For Becca.

On that note. Can you get your security people with her asap? Now that I've talked to Pierce he might step up his plans. Especially if he thinks I care about her. He'll see that as a weakness he can exploit." Bucky insisted.

Tony nodded "I'll tell Vis. That way he and Wanda can talk to her." He pulled out his phone and quickly sent a text to Vision to let him know and ask him to talk to Friday.

Friday woke up to the phone ringing and felt like she had just fallen asleep. She couldn't calm her mind down.

The attacks were escalating and Brock sounded like he had plenty more planned. She was more worried about the kids and her horses. Friday had thought Brock wouldn't hurt kids but Wanda's accident, with her son's in the car, made her realize he really didn't care who he hurt.

When her phone rang at 6am she was laying in bed trying to wake up but it still made her jump. She looked at the phone like it was some alien object until she finally answered.

"Wanda? Is everything ok? Why are you calling so early? You're supposed to be resting. Please tell me nothing happened. I-"

"Friday, Friday, calm down. Nothing happened but Tony just called and told Vis that he wants to send some security to your place to keep Brock and his associates from causing any trouble. Nat and I are being assigned security details too. At least until this blows over"

Friday chuckled softly 'Wanda, you know this won't blow over until Brock and his boss are gone. Or we're gone.

Will they keep Barnes out? Because he's one of Brock's associates and he's definitely harassing me."

Wanda laughed "I'm sure you can ask them to keep him away but I don't think he wants to hurt you."

"Geez Wanda, I hope this security detail can be discreet. I don't want any of my riders or staff to be scared to be here."

"Maybe you should think about shutting down for a couple of weeks. Or at least until the next city council meeting" Wanda offered

Friday shook her head "Oh hell no. I'm not going to change my life and disrupt my students because of some mobsters who want my land. Fuck that!"

"What about the kids safety?"

"I doubt they will come in and gun us all down."

Wanda was getting frustrated "Maybe not but one of the kids could get hurt even if they come in and just hurt you. Please think about it."

"Yeah, sure I'll think about it" but they both knew she was just trying to placate Wanda. "I need to get up and feed the horses. I'll talk to you later."

A little while later, while Friday and Peter were feeding, 3 women in dark suits came up the driveway. Friday looked at Peter and he nodded so she went to see who they were while he kept a close eye.

"Can I help you?" Friday asked

"We're the security Tony Stark assigned to you. I'm Maria, this is Carol and Val." Friday nodded and Maria continued "We will be working in shifts so at least one of us will be with you at all times. We will be driving you anywhere you need to go in a bullet proof SUV that Mr Stark provided. We know that you work with a lot of kids and will do everything we can to be discreet and not scare anyone."

Friday smiled nervously "I'm Friday, nice to meet you all. You can make yourself at home. I have 2 guest rooms you can use.

Wearing some stable appropriate clothes would really help so you don't stick out."

Friday and her guards were able to find a rhythm and the week passed quietly. On Saturday, Friday woke up with butterflies in her stomach. This afternoon was Rebecca's group lesson and she didn't want to burst the peaceful bubble Friday was living in by dealing with her father. Except for daily visits to check on Wanda she had stayed home and carried on.

The morning went so quickly that Friday was shocked when Nat pulled up with Billy and Tommy to get ready for their lesson. She looked at her watch and it was almost 2. She had been sitting at her desk, daydreaming about stormy blue eyes for over and hour and forgot to eat her lunch that was now cold in front of her.

She stood up and went out to greet them.

"Hey Nat, How's everything? Don't you have students today?"

Nat smiled. "Everything's fine. I only have 2 on Saturday afternoons and was able to move them up to the older group for today. Vis said these creatures needed some fresh air so I volunteered to bring them over.

How are you?"

Friday shrugged "SSDD. Still waiting for the other shoe to drop. Glad the city council meeting is this week.

At least my security ladies are nice. I think Val could drink you under the table."

Nat raised an eyebrow. "That sounds like a challenge to me."

Friday laughed "you'll like them. We'll have to include them in our next girls night."

Nat raised an eyebrow at her but before she could speak a car pulled up and Friday jumped "Sorry, everything seems to surprise me lately. I better go see who it is. Can you take them back to the barn so Peter can help them get ready?"

Nat nodded and herded the boys to the barn.

Friday turned to face the newcomers and let out a breath that she didn't realize she was holding when she saw Scott and Cassie. "Hey Scott, Cassie. Hope y'all are having a good day. Head to the barn to get started."

Another car pulled up, a black SUV just like the one Tony had loaned her. Friday took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. She breathed a sigh of relief when Dot came out instead of Bucky. At least until she saw the scowl on her face.

"Hi Rebecca, head to the barn, check in with Peter and I'll be there in a few." When she was out of sight Friday went up to Dot. "Everything ok? Rough morning? I have coffee in my office if-"

Dot snarled "Don't you try to pretend we are friends or you care about me. I had a good thing going and you ruined it."

Friday looked at her confused "What the fuck are you talking about? What did I ruin?"

"Bucky damnit. We had something that could have been real and then he meets you and won't even touch me anymore." Dot snapped

"Who the Hell is Bucky?"

"Don't try to play dumb. James Bucky Barnes. Becca's dad. He's all hung up on you. Sits at his desk staring at some pictures he took of you. I had plans for him and now he wants nothing to do with me." Dot was almost crying

"Why would he end things with you after I've told him, repeatedly, that I'm not interested?" Friday wondered until she felt something hit her cheek and turn her head. She touched her face and looked at Dot with wide eyes, she slapped her!

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" Friday asked "It's not my fault Barnes got bored with you." She scoffed as Val came up and restrained Dot.

"You didn't think you were exclusive did you? He told me he has a number of girls and they all like it that way because his libido is too much for one."

Dot spat at Friday's feet. "Sharon was right. You are a jealous bitch."

"Sharon? What did she do now." Friday demanded

Dot laughed "Just told me about how you cheated to beat her in all those shows and always went after her boyfriends."

"What do you want me to do with her?" Val asked.

Friday sighed "She's here with one of my riders so just keep an eye on her."

She turned to Dot "Sharon is a manipulative liar and is probably using You to hurt me. It's kind of her thing. You shouldn't trust her.

You want to settle down, find a nice guy, not someone like Barnes, he's a dog."

Dot scoffed and Friday went to the barn to get the lesson started.

Thanks to Val keeping Dot in line and Peters help, Friday was able to get thru it. When she was in her office, making notes about the riders progress, Sharon showed up at her office door.

Friday gasped and schooled her features to hide her surprise and disgust "Sharon! What a 'ahem' lovely surprise. What brings you here this lovely evening" she asked with a broad smile that didn't reach her eyes.

Sharon simped "I heard you had more troubles and came as soon as I could to check on you." She grabbed Friday's chin and looked at the cut Dot left when she slapped her "Barnes really needs to keep his nanny in line" she smirked.

Friday chuckled "You worry too much about me Sharon, us cowgirls have to be tough, it's nothing."

"True, you've been through worse but maybe you should be more careful about the men you pursue, stay away from the ones who are already spoken for. You're lucky I'm more secure than some nanny or I might have gotten physical over you're obsession of Brock." She threatened.

Friday scoffed "I've never even entertained the thought of going after Brock, much less been obsessed with him and I've told Barnes repeatedly that I'm not interested so I don't know what his problem is."

"Oh my dear friend, you are so naive" Sharon tittered "You send all of the signals, in your desperation you must not even realize. It'll get you hurt real bad if you don't stop" she said menacingly.

Friday realized something and her eyes went wide "How did you know about Dot? It just happened and no one has come or gone since, what the hell are you up to now, Sharon? Did you-"

"Miss Friday, I gave Cookie an apple and she gave me kisses" Becca came running into the office.

"Becca, that's awesome. I told you she-"

"Mommy? Did you come to see me ride" Becca asked anxiously

Sharon snapped "Rebecca, what did I tell you about calling me that?"

Becca looked at her feet "Only call you mommy when we're alone. I'm so sorry Miss Sharon, I just got excited" she said sadly

Sharon smirked "That's better. You and Friday just can't control yourselves, can you. You better learn before you get yourselves into serious trouble."

Carol strode into the office "who's your friend?"

"Carol, this is Sharon we're old friends" Friday smiled nervously, not sure of what was happening "Sharon, this is Carol. She's uh-"

"One of Tony Starks security team. I know." Sharon interrupted "I hope she is enough to keep you safe. I'd hate to see anything happen to you." Sharon hugged her "Well, I have to go Brock is waiting. I just wanted to make sure you were ok. See you soon" and she left without a word to Becca.

Dot came looking in the office. "Becca! What are you doing in here with her? It's time to go" she grabbed Becca's arm and dragged her away.

@tylard-blog1

Friday looked at Carol in confusion. "What the hell was all that?"

Chapter 6

[alias-sam]

Pierced by a Golden Soul

Chapter 21. Feel the Noize

Platonic Jojo's x Reader

Summary: Fate is a bizarre concept with countless more bizarre implications. In life sometimes such extraordinary events happen that the only reasoning left must be fate. The tragedies that constantly befall the Joestar bloodline for example may be the unluckiest series of cards drawn in human history, or perhaps the work of a greater power. There is no way to tell for sure. Had Dio Brando or Jonathan Joestar moved slightly on a divergent path the world itself would be left very different. The fate or luck of the noble Joestar bloodline has led to destruction of evil likes of the Pillar Men and DIO. This story is of a similar caliber to that of the other Joestars (as I am sure you are familiar with them). This is a story of lost souls, compassion, hope, and above all fate.

Word Count: 2,107

(Crosspost from Wattpad, full fic is already posted there.)

Both you and Vita ducked back behind the wall just as Blaze pointed in your direction. You felt your heart race at the prospect of being caught. How did he spot the two of you? Lennia curiously glanced between the wall and Blaze before taking a step towards you and Vita.

"Hey! If anyone's over there, you have three seconds to reveal yourself!" Lennia yelled towards where you were hiding. Crap.

"No worries. I got this." Vita said, noticing your panicked expression. "As soon as the coast is clear, you get out of here. I hope you find that stalker of yours.... Stay safe Y/n." There was no way Vita was about to let himself get caught, right? Just as the thought occurred to you, Vita stepped out from behind the wall. Before you knew it, he was coughing, loud, gross, wet coughs.

"Wait! Vita!" You whisper shouted, but quickly shut up as he staggered and swayed while approaching the gate. Shocked and confused you leaned back against the wall and simply listened.

"Help..." Vita wheezed. "I-is this the way to the nurse's office...?"

"A-are you serious?" Lennia muttered.

"I d-don't feel so good..." Vita rasped airily. You heard him take one or two more steps before there was a thump. Did he just...?

"Shit..." Lennia muttered.

"Oh wow." Blaze scoffed. "Dirty words from the golden girl. That's a first."

"Shut the fuck up Blaze." Lennia bit back. "Dammit... I need to get this guy some help." There was the sound of shuffling and Vita babbling nonsense. "Just piss off Blaze." Lennia seethed. "I don't care anymore." You pressed yourself against the wall, careful not to move as Lennia passed by. She was helping Vita limp to the nurse's office. Even after the two were far out of sight, you didn't move. You hadn't heard that Blaze guy leave quite yet.

"I know you're still there." Blaze laughed. "No sense in hiding." Reluctantly, you stepped out from behind the wall. Blaze's smile quickly turned into a glare. "Finally, we come face to face." It was subtle, but there was malice behind those words.

"I know you're a stand user." You deadpanned. "What the hell have you been doing to me."

"Of course, a novice like yourself would ask something like that. I guess it makes sense that you're confused though. I'm not a coward so how about this?" Blaze took a step closer. "To make things fair, I'm going to tell you my ability." You watched as Blaze's stand slithered out from your own shadow. It floated up from the ground and levitated directly in front of you. Without much thought, you summoned Golden Soul and threw a punch at the stand's face. If this guy was going to put his stand in your range, you were willing to at least try exploiting it.

"Muda!" The second your hit connected; pain erupted from your own face. Blaze flinched and let his hand gently caress his cheek.

"Meet my stand 'Quiet Riot'. It has quite the array of abilities. My stand is activated by standing in my shadow. When activated, my stand becomes... attached to its target in a sense. Once attached, we begin sharing the stand in a sense. I'm still the one controlling it, but any damage done to the stand will reflect on the both of us, the same thing works the other way around.

Its primary attack is a little something I like to call, 'Feel the Noize'. Any time your heart rate drops ten bpm from where it was, Quiet Riot will manipulate your senses, and make you hallucinate. As long as you're my target, your panic response will be heightened. It's a waiting game to see which gets you first, a heart attack, or hyperventilation." You watched Quiet Riot dart out of your sight. "Terrifying, isn't it? I'll warn you to not fight, that will only trigger my stand."

"Why are you telling me this?" You asked. It seemed counter productive for Blaze to admit all of this. "Never mind that, why are you doing this?"

"This is payback in a sense." Blaze regarded you coldly. "Learco never did anything to you."

"Oh?" So that's what this was about. "Yeah, well... I might be bias but, normally people don't attack a defenseless girl in an alleyway." You should have been able to put it together sooner. This guy...if you had to bet, he was without a doubt Blaze Martez.

"You stuck your nose where it didn't belong."

"I'd disagree, he was outside my house....and mugging someone."

"You like to be a hero huh?" Blaze's eye twitched, reminding you of Learco. "We'll see how long that will of yours can hold out."

"It doesn't look like you're the mastermind. So, who are you taking orders from Blaze?" If this guy wanted your attention for some kind of revenge plot, you'd at least try learning something from him. "Is it the guy who attacked Tim with Blake at the beach the other day?" Blaze rolled his eyes, and turned away.

"Aren't you overdue for a dose of panic?" Just as he said so, the all too familiar haze of Quiet Riot filled your senses. In the blink of an eye, the ground around you started to fall away, leaving you standing on a lone platform above a dark abyss. Blaze watched with unfiltered eyes as you flailed and looked around wildly at scenery that didn't really exist. Despite your knowledge that what you were seeing wasn't real, your legs were shaking.

"You do realize I'm going to follow you, right?" You mumbled, trying to keep your balance as the platform you were on shifted.

"Oh, I'm counting on it." Blaze laughed humorlessly. "My stand is long range and automatic, so I don't often get to see the end result of its work." Blaze glanced back at you with cold emotionless eyes. "But in your case, I'd especially love to be there when you keel over Y/n." With that, he leisurely strode past the front gate.

Against your attempts at controlling it, your breathing increased. The small platform under you was quickly crumbling apart. A low hum filled your ears as Quiet Riot floated up from the bottomless pit below. You tried to back away from it, but there wasn't anywhere for you to go. This was supposed to be a hallucination of some kind, but by every account, it felt real. You tried to step off of the platform into the dark pit, expecting your foot to make contact with the real ground. Instead, you felt absolutely nothing, and immediately recoiled.

Quiet Riot suddenly flew at you, taking advantage of your shaky balance, and shoving you off of the platform. Wind rushed past your face as you fell backwards into the bottomless pit. You helplessly watched as the light above you faded away, and you simply kept falling.

Eventually, after your heart rate had apparently been sufficiently risen, the illusion disappeared. When your senses came back, you were laying on your back in the courtyard. Your chest was tight, to the point breathing was painful. With slow deliberate movements, you glanced around at the courtyard. Blaze was nowhere to be seen. Defeated, you closed your eyes and resisted the urge to cry. Everything hurt. How were you supposed to defeat a power like this? At the rate you were going, you really were going to die of either exhaustion or a heart attack.

"Jojo." A soft voice called from above.

"Jesus...?" You cracked your eyes open to find the outline of Jaya standing over you.

"You must think you're hilarious." Jaya huffed in exasperation. You knew she was too observant to not notice you and Vita hiding behind the wall earlier. Thankfully, she picked up on the weird vibe coming from Blaze, and stayed behind in the courtyard.

"How much of that did you see?"

"All of it." Jaya said, offering you a hand. "Including the part where you aimlessly fell over for no apparent reason." You hesitantly took Jaya's hand, almost expecting it to either disappear or turn into a snake or something. "Are you okay?" Jaya watched as you slowly sat up on your own.

"I'm.... no. I'm not okay." You admitted, burying your face in your hands. "How the hell am I supposed to defeat him?" You muttered weakly.

"Maybe you should take a breath and worry about yourself for a second."

"You're right." You said, squaring your shoulders and steeling your nerves. "We need to get going or we'll never catch up with him."

"Where are we even headed?" Jaya asked hurriedly as you had grabbed her arm and were pulling her out of the school gate.

"Saint Rosewater General Hospital."

"The hospital? Why?" Jaya asked as she ran behind you down the street. Pedestrians were giving you odd looks left and right but you didn't have the time to care.

"He said so himself, didn't he?" You responded, darting down an alleyway to try getting to the hospital faster. "Blaze told Lennia he was going to visit his brother."

"Yeah, but he could have been lying about that." Jaya sighed. "What makes you so certain he'll go there?"

"Even if he didn't say anything, Blaze knew me and Vita were in the courtyard the second we got there. He knew we were there and yet he waited until I was alone to talk. Blaze thinks of all of this as payback. A game of bloody vengeance. He wouldn't make it too hard or else I wouldn't be able to pursue him." You glanced at Jaya nervously. "At least that's my theory."

"How do you know this isn't some kind of trap? What did you even do to make him hate you so much?"

"One: I don't. Two: It's a long story."

At this point you didn't even know the strength of your own stand, let alone its ability. Meaning, you couldn't beat Quiet Riot with brute force. Right now you weren't alone, but Jaya wasn't a stand user. Just like when fighting Metal Heath, you had to use your head. This battle couldn't be won as long as Quiet Riot was activated and attached to you. That made this an endurance game. Blaze said so himself, your sheer force of will would have to help in getting you through this.

As you were running, you caught a glimpse of Quiet Riot in the corner of your eye. That probably wasn't good. Even though you were sprinting, it seemed your heart rate was getting a bit low for the stand's taste. You decided to speed up, hoping that would be enough to pacify the stand and avoid another hallucination.

As you were turning another corner, your vision blurred for a second. Without any reason, your skin became stone cold. You stopped, feeling someone's breath fanning across the back of your neck. The skin of the pedestrians started to sag, and in a matter of a moments, their entire bodies seemed to melt. As if their bones and muscle disappeared, all that was left was whole skin husks slowly floated to the ground like demented sheets of paper. You still felt the warm breath fanning across the nape of your neck. Against your better judgment, you glanced behind yourself. A pathetic sound of disgust snuck past your clenched teeth.

I was Jaya. At least it looked like her. Her eye sockets were chillingly empty. Whatever was keeping this twisted creature up, it wasn't bones. Looking past the dark empty eye sockets only revealed a hollow body, no brain, no skull. The empty skin wrinkled in unnatural ways, causing the cheeks and forehead to look sunken in. You took a quick step back as the hallucination mage a grab at your shoulder. That seemed to make it mad though, it bared sharp fanged teeth at you, producing a quiet airy gurgled screech at you. It didn't even have a tongue. You took a breath and summoned your stand.

"Golden Soul!" As soon as your stand appeared, colorful outlines of people filled the street. Without a word you grabbed the wrist of the skin monster that looked like Jaya, and continued running.

Over the course of the past week, you figured out that normal people like your mother and Jaya had thin outlines around them when your stand was activated. Stand users had bigger and brighter auras that you could sense through walls and other obstacles. Since you couldn't trust your own eyes right now, you decided to trust the vison your stand could give you.

While you couldn't see people thanks to Quiet Riot, Golden Soul counteracted it somewhat by helping you to swerve and dodge pedestrians while running to the hospital.

Blaze Martez... this was going to be a hard fight, but now you had a plan.