#and any time its brought up its mocked into the fucking DIRT as if its SOOOO ridiculous people dont like bars

[timeisacephalopod]

Remember back in the day where a lot of Tumblr youths said they wanted alcohol free LGBT+ spaces like coffee shops or something to meet with other people but not be barred from entry based on age or alcohol being present? Then ace people said the same thing but with ace coffee shops and now if you say you want an alcohol free LGBT+ space on Tumblr your fuckin clowned to Christian hell and back because people are so aphobic they deadass threw out ideas THEY came up with because asexual people also liked that idea lmao. Now every time I see someone mention alcohol free LGBT+ spaces or stuff other than gay bars I ALWAYS know somewhere on that post the idea queer people may want to hang out without alcohol around or hang out not in a fucking club is some sort of Extremely Cringe Horrible Sexless (oh, a callback to the aphobia that started it all because obviously the worst thing you can be is celibate the church called they want their number back) Behavior that's Mocked and Ridiculed so we all know how Hilarious and Stupid it is to want spaces that aren't bars to hang out in. Like really, the idea that even adults might not ONLY want bars to hang out in is actually ridiculous to you? Really?

[cyberneticlagomorph]

The Warren is quiet when Zeb awakes.

Dead silence coats the hallways the same way the soot and char from last night's fire does.

The door to his room opens by itself, swinging slowly open without a sound as if the hinges and lock had just

Given up.

Zeb moves cautiously, body low to the ground, sword in hand as he slinks up to the open door, using the reflections on his blade to see if the way is truly clear.

It is.

He darts from his room and into the hallway, observing his strange surroundings like a solider in enemy territory.

The walls are dirt here, root-webbed, speckled with little pebbles and tinged green with glowing mosses. A pixie pokes its head from a hole in the wall, and stares at Zeb with too many big pink eyes, a miniature mockery of the towering flamboyant demon that stalks the hallways of this cursed place. Zeb flicks holy water at the creature and watches it retreat with a shriek.

Where the water hits the walls, the soil turns black and crumbles away, revealing subway tunnels and sewer pipes hidden under layers of unnecessary magic and glamour. Zeb's lip curls at the sight and he stalks away in no particular direction.

He can feel the Warren moving around him, guiding him in a particular direction the same way wolves drive their prey away from the herd, and it sickens him. Every time he tries to turn back or get his bearings, this place seems to mock him, turning him around and making him go in circles until he is forced into a wide room.

Even though the room is crowded with milling bodies scraping dejectedly at nearly full plates, the silence is still there, still overwhelming. The kitchen is the center of the Warren, the closest thing the place has to a heart and anybody who knows that can see that its heart is broken. Children sit at the long dinner table in their mismatched chairs staring at their food but not eating, their faces tired and afraid.

Adults try and fail to put on brave faces, to coax the little ones into eating, but its of no use. Egg looks at Zeb with her huge pink eyes and starts to tremble, dog shaped waffles long forgotten, turning into soup as they soak up too much syrup.

Zeb clings to his sword like a lifeline, legs refusing to move as he meets eye after eye that turns to stare at him. The little boy at the stove gives him a look so cold it robs the breath from Zeb's lungs. The little boy looks so human, standing on a step stool, with a spatula in hand. The human faces in the room scare Zeb more than the monsters they consort with and he wonders what dreadful spells they must be under to think that this is all ok.

Zeb takes a shaky step forward, body moving before his brain has time to catch up. He can save them from this place, he knows he can, but he doesn't know how yet. He can save them all and they won't have to cook or eat with monsters or live in the dirt anymore and it will all be ok.

"You." The single word brings such a chill to Zeb's bones that the little boy's earlier stare is a warm summer breeze by comparison. He turns to see a figure behind him, clad in a gas mask. It's Null, Zeb's true sight cutting through their outward appearance to show him a Deep and Fathomless Nothing somehow stuck in the shape of a person.

A monster worse than any of the others Zeb has faced before.

" What the fuck were you thinking?" Growls Null, their voice hissing with each intake of breath through their mask. "I can understand an upbringing and fear that leads you to attack the very monster that has brought you into this house and home, but you've failed to understand that this is still That. A Home. Not only her home, but the home to many small creatures, some of whom are more human than you and I. Your setting fire to this warren could have very well killed everyone here, as well as a considerable radius outward. Lab safety is not to be ignored however you like. Jack may be an honorable and gracious host, but I am not."

"That's enough Null." says another voice, this one mechanical and familiar. The gauze wrapped visage of the monster that stole you peeks from behind Null and pats them gently with a mitten on a stick, nudging them out of the way and back to... wherever.

Null doesn't move at first, just standing there, staring, eyes dangerously lucid and livid, burning like the fire Zeb set last night.

Jack's eyes are empty by contrast, dark black and gray pools so full of exhaustion and sadness that they hurt to look at. Guilt and regret rise in Zeb's chest like bile but he chokes the feelings down, he did what he had to, He did nothing wrong.

The monsters kept him here against his will, they deserved to get burned.

The Warren shifts again, one wall of the kitchen disappearing, replaced by a pair of huge double doors leading out and away from this dark and terrible place.

"C'mon," Says Jack, her voice thick with soot and sadness as she gestures at the doors. "Let's get you home."

[lanadelreyscokewhor3]

LOVE SHACK- P.B PARKER

Pairing: Peter Parker x Best Friend! Fem! Reader

Word Count: 3.2k

Summary: you and your best friend peter “the freak” parker find yourselves at the town’s secret hangout, “the love shack”. The two of you have been friends withbenefitss for quite some time now, and what better place to do it at the literal “love shack”?

Warnings: dry wet humping, pet names, praise kink mixed with degradion kink, daddy kink, swearing, weed/ drugs and booze mentioned, swearing, breeding kink, teasing, possiveness if u squint, mocking peter, best friends being horny lil goof balls

Notes: “huggin and a kissin, dancin and a lovin, wearing next to nothin always hot as an oven!” - the love shack, the B-52′s

The Love Shack, is what they called it. 

You didn’t quite know why, as the dingy old trailers seemed anything but lovable, their frames near rusting- steps creaking anytime someone clambered up them. It was a little place, past the outskirts of the main town, the endless amounts of forest protecting its little village of shacks and trailers around the massive fire pit everyone sat around under the stars. 

The bush and moss tickled your skin now, as you ran your fingers across the soft bark of the evergreen, the smell of pine and cigarette smoke clouding your senses. 

It took a few hours to realize, but suddenly, you finally understood. 

You could feel the love, feel the soft energy that lingered in the air blurring with the campfire smoke. The sounds of laughter and beer bottles clanking together brought a warmth to your heart, soothing you as the breeze filtered through the air, ruffling the leaves above you. 

A smile lingered on your face as you leaned against the bark of the tree, watching all your friends talk and laugh around the fire they had started a few hours prior. It’s bright light sent shadows flickering across their faces, daunting the lust some of them had in their eyes, the drugs and booze making their judgment fuzzy. 

It was all love here, at this little camp the kids had made over the years, (decently) cleaning up the trailers and the main cabin, little fairy lights now strung across the surfaces of the wood and peeling paint on the metal. 

Or maybe it was all booze, and you were very, very drunk right now. Either way, it didnt matter, you thought, watching as Natasha and Wanda danced together to the trickle of music leaving the speaker- their hips swaying side to side before they fell over in a heap of giggles. 

It made you so happy to see everyone else so calm, so at peace in this makeshift heaven. You were glad the girls had dragged you here, nearly tripping over their own feet with the twigs blocking the winding dirt road on the way up. 

Do you guys have any idea where we are? You had asked, concern laced in your voice as you looked at them, eyebrow raised in alarm. “Shhh yes, yes! See- there's the sign!” Wanda had whispered, the delicate sound getting swallowed by the coo of the owls as she pointed to the sign up ahead. 

Sure enough, it had led you right to it, all in one piece. 

You continued to survey the little group, watching as people kicked their feet up, propping a smoke or two between their lips. 

But the man you were looking for wasn't in the picture you had painted. 

He was missing, his disheveled, long brown hair no longer in the sea of heads in the crowd. Until it was. 

“Boo!” he whispered, large, firm hands suddenly a weight on your hips- making you shriek out in alarm. 

“Jesus fuck Peter don't- don't do that!” you complained, swatting his arm gently as his laughter echoed through the forest, in timing with the quickening beating of your heart from the scare. 

Your best friend with benefits tended to spook you whenever you'd find yourself distanced from the crowd of people, and you hated him for it. He knew this, the bastard, always using it to his advantage. 

“You love when I do that. Love when I put my hands on you.” he teased, making you giggle- your fear long gone as his fingers walked up your arm, pinching your cheek.

 “When you arent scaring me half to death I do. I mean cmon Peter, in the forest?! Really?!” That only seemed to edge him on further, a snort escaping his body as he stifled his laughter. “I know! It was fuckin brilliant of me, I must admit.”

 “You asshat.” you rolled your eyes, shaking your head as you inched closer to the man who towered over you, now leaning against the very tree you were blocking your view of the party in front of you. 

He wanted something from you. 

You could tell. You always could, when it came to him. 

“Yea, well this asshat brought you something.” he grinned, fishing in his back pocket for the mystery gift he was about to present to you. You couldn't help but smile even bigger as his long, slender fingers pulled out a little plastic baggy- freshly rolled blunts inside.

 Eyebrows raised, you met his pouted lips, puppy dog eyes seeming to glow like the stars in the sky as he looked down at you. “You want trouble.”

 “I always want trouble, sugarplum.” he laughed, knowing he had won you over.

 It was true. 

Peter Parker always wanted trouble, the glow of the flames illuminating him like a fallen angel confirming that. As if the universe knew, as if the flames that licked up in the air were tattooed and branded on his skin, a fire constantly burning up inside him. 

He liked danger, and he liked pulling you into it with him. 

“Sneak away with me. Just for a bit.” he whispered, voice low and husky. You shuddered at his tone, leaning to peer over his beefy shoulder to look at your friends, still chatting and minging away- the night still young. 

“I shouldn't leave them.” you sighed, fidgeting with the hem of your skirt, the soft wind blowing it against your thighs. He tilted his head, a look of pity upon his features as his hand came up to capture your jaw, thumb tugging on your lower lip. 

You felt dizzy, his touch electric and warm as he caressed you. 

“But daddy wants to play sweetheart. Don't you wanna make daddy happy?”

 Peter could see the spark in your eyes at the familiar name, the one that had you falling to your knees in a matter of seconds when he made you call him it. 

The internal battle was churning inside of you, but he could tell he had already won. He had removed your queen from the chest board you were fighting within your mind, logical thoughts slipping away like sand as he stroked your lip, giving it a tug. 

This is too easy, he thought, watching as you melted like putty into his hands. 

So soft. So moldable. Just wanting to please, to make him happy.

 “Wanna make you happy but-” 

“No buts, sweetheart. We’ll have so much fun together, you n’ I.” he smiled, picking you up before you could protest, running towards the darkened woods as he carried you bridal style in his arms. 

“Peter where are we going?!” you shrieked, hands turning to balled fists as you clung to his jacket, breathing in his familiar, comforting scent. 

“I know a place!” he called, to you or the trees, you couldn't tell. He was as wild and free as the wolves as he ran with you bound in his arms, your giggles and his feet snapping on twigs and branches the only sound that lingered, the party now long gone behind you.

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

 “Hey!” you protested as Peter snatched the half-smoken blunt he had lit for you between his fingers, smoke uncurling from your lips as he put it out.

 “The fuck was that for?!” you barked out, watching as he observed it with his fingers, as if it were a prized possession. “You're high enough sugarplum.” he rolled his eyes at your complaints, and you knew it was true. 

His stuff was strong, and you tended to be a lightweight compared to him. You could feel the high kicking into third gear as you took in your surroundings, movements sluggish as you stumbled against the bolder Peter was leaning against. 

The man wasn't lying when he said he knew a spot- the so-called spot was beautiful. A little creek trickled by, the sounds of splashing water against the pebbles calming your frazzled nerves as you watched the tree branches sway against each other in the sky, the stars a contrast to the dark leaves. 

“What are ya doin with that?” you slurred, noting how he placed the blunt back in his baggie with a smile.

 “Keepin my girls blunt of course. My new good luck charm. Is that a new colour?” he smiled, hinting at the red lipstick smeared across the end of the blunt, where your lips had been.

 “Ruby Red.” you laughed, a heat blooming in your core at his words. 

My girl. It affected you more than you wanted to admit. 

“Well I can't wait to mess it up soon.” he sang in a teasing manner, blowing a puff of smoke in your face as he neared. “You are such a tease.” He was close enough you could feel the warmth of his skin, his intoxicating aura as his hand slid up your skirt, caressing your thigh with such gentleness you feared you melt into a puddle right there and then. 

“Says the one wearing this little skirt. Did you wear it for me sweetheart?” he drawled, tossing the finished blunt as he pushed you back into the bolder, the rock digging into your skin deliciously. 

Yes. Yes I always wear things for you Peter. With the chances you’ll give me attention like you are tonight, even if it's for you- not for me. I always pray for these moments between us, when you're touching me like you love me, even though we cant love eachother like that. 

You shook your head anyways, not wanting to play into his game. Yet- at least. 

“I wore it for Mr. Evans. I knew he’d be outside the corner store with a smoke- always is. Waiting for me to bend over to check my tires…” you giggled, knowing you’d get him rilled up. 

Peter snarled, hands snaking up to tangle in your hair as he kissed you with such possession you thought his name was branded permanently on your skin. 

It was wanting, needy and it was yours. Simply something the two of you shared, some primal need and possession no one else could match. 

Mine. Only mine. His lips seemed to say- although no words were uttered. Just teeth and tongue, a moan leaving your lips as they clashed, an iron sword to the forge as he burned you with his flame. 

“Cheeky lil thing tonight aren't cha?” he murmured, watching as you giggled, hand coming up to touch the smeared lipstick that he had ruined.

 “I’ve always been cheeky Peter. You just can tame me better than most.” you giggled, slipping from his now loosened grasp, though his hands seemed to stain your skin with a makeshift collar, his hands pulling you towards the stream acting as a leash. 

The weed was making you more confident than normal tonight, not that you were really complaining. You simply couldn't complain about anything right now, the way his skin felt against yours sending bolts of lighting up your veins, shooting straight to your heart as it beat faster. “Minx.” 

“Asshat.” You shoved him lightly, making him grab his heart in mock sadness, a Shakespearen performance as he laid out in the grass, letting the strands tickle his fingers.

 “I want to have my fun now.” he stated, his red-tinted puppy dog eyes peering up at you with a sense of softness that made your heart melt. 

Like he hadn't been claiming you, nearly making blood ooze from your swollen lips a minute prior. He was funny in that sense. Always switching by the minute, changing from a hungry hunk to the soft, needy boy you were familiar with throughout your years of high school together. 

You liked him for it.

 “There are plenty of pebbles to skip here, which is like the funnest thing ever.” 

“Umm.. first off, no. Secondly- funnest is not a real word.” he huffed. “Says who?!” you demanded, kicking his leg in a teasing manner, doing your favorite thing in the world with him- bickering like middle schoolers.

 “Says me. Says the Oxford Dictionary.”

 “They can always add the word, per my request. And why can't I have my fun, for once?” you sighed lovingly, making your way over to straddle his lap, Peter's head craning up to take you in as you rested upon him, a queen sitting on her throne. 

“Because you have to be a good girl to have your fun.” he growled, breath hitching in his throat as your slightly chilled hands slid up his t-shirt, tracing each ridge and edge of his abs, fingers absentmindedly following the swirls and patterns of ink that coated his body, their markings a memory you were all too familiar with. 

“I’m always a good girl.” you pouted, a ghost of a smile appearing on your face as you felt a hardness poking up at you through the confinement of his jeans, your hands now tracing the soft trace of his hairs that trailed down to the thing you wanted the most. 

The icing on the cake. 

“Whose good girl?” he smiled, propping himself up on his elbows so he could look at you better, could watch as you squirmed against his hardness. 

“Yours daddy. I’m daddy’s good girl.” you whispered, placing your hands against the fabric of his shirt, now crumbled between your fingers as your hips began to move slightly on their own accords. 

It was exquisite, the way the denim of his jeans felt against your aching, throbbing clit, the fabric of your panties now very much soaked. The drugs made you feel everything ten times as much, the shockwaves shooting up your body exhilarating as you slid against him, your juices coating his pants. 

In any other circumstance, it would be embarrassing at how desperate you were. But right now, when it was just the two of you in your own little paradise among the stars- it didn’t matter. 

All that mattered was the feeling of his hips slightly thrusting up to meet your grinds, the little groans he made at the whimpers you protruded. 

“Look at you.” he whispered, almost as if he could believe his eyes. You were  beautiful, an angel as you got off on him without a care in the world. He loved it. 

“My needy little girl, just desperate for daddy's attention yea? Couldn't wait any longer so you had to make a mess of me?” he moaned, head lolling back as your hand came up to rub at your clit, fingers smearing your arousal on him as you cupped him through his jeans. 

A moan was your only response, earning a cluck of his tongue. “Where are your manners, sugarplum?” 

“Mm yes daddy just need your attention always. S’senstive right now..” you shuddered, your aching hole clenching around air as your head fell forward, hair covering your face like a curtain as you engrossed in the pleasure. 

“Silly baby. There's no thoughts left in that tiny lil brain of yours is there? J-just my ohfuck- my cock?” he mocked, the pity in his voice fueling your high even more than you thought was humanly possible. 

You were about to ramble, but you didn’t care. He needed to hear this, whether he liked it or not. 

“Know we agreed to be careful n stuff but daddy I just need your cum inside me please. Need to feel it leaking out of me, even if it's my ass I just need daddy's cum to fill me-” 

“Fuck, fuckfuckme sweetheart you can't- you can't say shit like that and expect me not to nearly fucking cum.”

 Oh he liked it alright. 

“But it’s true daddy.” you pouted, hands curling into fists as slowly dragged your core against him, the brush of his cool, metal belt buckle against your clit making you whine and gasp. 

“Yea? Gonna be a perfect little hole for me sugarplum? Let me use you n stuff you full?” 

“Always.” you moaned, your head lolling back as you felt the electric shockwaves of your orgasm approaching, the build-up in your chest threatening to burst like a bubble. 

“Gonna make me cum in my pants like a fuckin virgin sugarplum, look so fuckin hot for daddy. I know that pretty little pussy’s sensitive but we gotta give her what she needs yea?” 

Oh god. Oh god oh god. Those words could have stayed in your head, or they could have packed their bags and slipped out from your parted lips without a care in the world. You weren't sure. You weren't sure about anything, but the sizzling in your core, the hot, breathless feeling only Peter could give you. 

His words set you on fire, made you burn up and come alive with each syllable that slipped from his pretty pink lips. You craved him like a drug. Like the weed he had gifted you, had propped between your lips with a smile. 

His smile was the real drug, the real reason you always felt on cloud nine. But you’d never tell him that. All you could do was moan as he kept talking, knowing your orgasm was close. 

“You think my pussy is pretty?” Was all you could whine as he chuckled, a smile still blooming across his face. 

“I think she's the prettiest cumdump in the entire world, sweetheart. But I think she’d be even prettier with my cum drippin out of her, don't cha think?” 

Yes. Gods yes. 

“Go on, make a mess on my jeans like the little dumb baby you are and I can stuff her full, just like you wanted sugarplum.” 

Your cry of his name echoed amongst the maze of tree branches as you shattered above him, your panties drenched as you rode through the shocks of your orgasm. The world seemed to be underwater in the little creek in front of you, a faint ringing in your ears as Peter's hands slid up to guide your trembling limbs, grounding you to him. 

“S’messy for me.” he cooed in approval, his heart pounding a million miles a minute as he watched you gasp for air, your skin warm to the touch as you placed crescent-shaped moons into his arms. 

You were the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. And you were his. His, to do what he wanted with you. 

The thought was enough to make him groan, the need to be inside you filling him to the brim. “Please-” was all you could whisper, voice hoarse as you chanted it like a mantra. 

Please. Please please please. 

Peter knew what you were begging for. Knew what you wanted, what you needed even better then you did yourself. He’d tease you. He’d make you beg, make you whine and make you use your “big girl words” as he liked to call them. 

But the overwhelming need to have him leaking out of you, to have him marking and claiming you was far too strong for his dominance now. He was much too far gone. And the fact that you had asked- so pretty. 

“I’ll give you what you want, what you need baby.” he hushed, voice low and soothing as you tugged at his jeans, begging for him as if you were on your knees, pleading.

 “I’ll give you what you want, because I want it too.” 

[abluescarfonwaston]

“I’m looking for-”

The guard cut him off. Pointing into the grounds. “He’s usually in the gardens this time of day. Take a left at the circle. It’s on the right.”

He blinked at the guard. Took a hesitant step forward. 

No one stopped him.

Why did Oxenfurt even have guards if they just let strange men in? He definitely qualified as strange. He was a fucking witcher after all.

No wonder Jaskier was so strange if this was where he was educated.

The gardens were beautiful. They smelled wonderful.

He wandered through it. There was little point trying to sniff Jaskier out. He’d undoubtedly switched perfumes since last they’d met.

His ears ticked up. Jaskier was humming.

He turned down the path. Stopped. Looked around.

The only person was kneeling in the dirt wearing an absurdly large brimmed hat. Gardening.

He looked around again. 

Nope. The humming was definitely coming from the person gardening.

He opened his mouth to call out-

Someone squeeked behind him. He turned.

A woman - girl really - with her hair up in another comically large hat and a trowel covering her mouth was staring at him.

That at least was normal.

She waved him over. Eyes flicking between him and the man that could not be Jaskier. She motioned for him to be silent leading him behind the elderberry bushes.

“Sorry Master Witcher, do you need something? I can get it for you- just - just don’t bother Professor Pancratz please? We only just started on the Skellige plants an hour ago and he gets so distracted-”

“I understand.” He nodded seriously at her. She deflated with a sigh of relief. “I’m looking for Jaskier? The bard?” It seemed silly to add that. Everyone knew Jaskier these days but it might speed the conversation along.

She squinted at him. “Yes. I- I did gather that. Did you need something for a potion? He says were not allowed to charge Witchers for potion ingredients because no one pays witchers fairly for their services but it does cost money to maintain the gardens so if you wouldn’t take too much then-”

“I don’t need ingredients.” Although now that he looked he could see that the majority of the plants were ones used in potions. Witcher and human alike. He reached out, touching the leaf of one. “Myrtle pepper? This doesn’t grow in Oxenfurt.” It didn’t grow in the northern realms even.

“Oh yes! He brought that one back a few years ago. Apparently the whole department bet that it would die but he got it to grow. He’s a genius.” 

“Hm.” He stood up. “Jaskier?” He questioned. Trying to steer her back to the point.

“I’ll let him know you stopped by?” 

He frowned. He didn’t want to stand here all day waiting. “Tell him I’m at the Barrel and Brug.”

She mock saluted. “Will do!” 

When Jaskier entered hours later he smelled of flowers and soil.

“Thought you didn’t like flora.”

“Ugh.” He collapsed next to him at the bar. Stealing his drink. “You do one professor a favor and next thing you know you’re the leading thinker in plant science! I’m a bard! What is wrong with this world!”

“Hm.” He smirked amusedly taking his drink back.

“Jakob asked me to bring him a few seeds back for him because he was too old to get them and then bam! Next thing I know everyone's asking me the ideal soil conditions to maximize the Beggertick blossoms! I am a poet Geralt! This is absurd!”

“Given you’ve mistaken Vetch for Lupins I have to agree.”

He snorted. Resting his head against the sticky bar top. “I refuse to learn any of their names. If I don’t keep misnaming them they’ll make me publish a paper. An Academic paper mind you. No verse allowed. They’re Horrendous to read and worse to write. I refuse. I won’t do it. I won’t!”

The barkeep dropped off another drink that he’d motioned for. He slid it to Jaskier consolingly. 

“Oh no. You might write something useful for once.”

His head snapped up. “How dare you! My music is incredibly useful!”

“At getting folks drunk.”

Jaskier shoved him hard. He didn’t move.

He let Jaskier sputter and curse at him for a bit longer before interrupting him.

“Got a contract for a Griffin.”

He closed him mouth. The tirade abandoned. “In Oxenfurt?”

He nodded. Near enough.

He sipped the beer. Propping himself up on the table. Swirled it. “How long do you think that’ll take?” 

He cocked his head at the hesitation in his voice. “Few days maybe.”

“Oh.” He sighed. Relieved. “Then we can head south?”

“What, worried we’d leave tomorrow?” Jaskier grumbled noncommittally into his drink. He blinked. “You are.” Surprised.

“I just need a few days to make sure the plants settle in alright, that’s all!”

“The ones from Skellige?”

He nodded sheepishly.

“Your assistant.” He started. “The plants are.” He tried instead. He fought with the idea and words in his mouth. “You don’t charge Witchers?” He finally settled on.

Jaskier’s lips drew into a thin line. “No. Told them not to.”

“Bad business.”

“School’s not a business. And its not like you use that much anyway.”

“Treading on Nenneke’s territory there.” Oxenfurt’s garden didn’t compare to Nenneke’s. Not with her greenhouse full of plants long extinct. But it was impressive.

“Ugh don’t tell Nenneke about this- Swear it to me Geralt. If she decides I’m decent company then next time you end up there we’ll both be trapped! She’ll never let us leave Geralt!”

“She would never count you as decent company Jaskier.” He assured.

He smiled ruefully. Toasted to that and drained his tankard. 

“Why those plants?”

“Hm?” He questioned, trying to catch the bartenders attention.

“Why’d you choose those plants?”

The garden full of Witcher plants. From all across the continent. Elderberry, Beggertick, myrtle pepper. The fountain full of blood moss.

“Why not roses?” Jaskier loved roses. He’d once proposed he’d grow them if the world had no more need of poetry and song. Which it never would. Not that Jaskier could give it up even if it did.

Jaskier’s eyes stayed trained on the shelf of alcohol behind the bar.

“They’re useful aren’t they? More useful than roses.” The bard playing tonight started a jig. His attention shifted to the folks gathering on the floor to dance. “I’ll grow roses when you retire.”

“You mean when you retire?” He called out after Jaskier as he leapt into the procession of dancers. No answer coming beyond the stomping of feet and laughter.

Witchers don’t retire. You know that Jaskier.

Roses symbolize love. Jaskier educated him, stealing a few from a garden for his then paramour. Pure love in its many forms. He’d said, smacking him with a blossom.

No. He thought watching Jaskier flit and spin through the song. They don’t.

Love was a garden of myrtle peppers, elderberries and bloodmoss.

[lilith-of-rivia]

Chapter 1: The Meeting

Summary: Ina of Cintra the Lioness's firstborn daughter has been a well-kept secret. her title as princess never leaving the castle walls, her abilities, abnormalities not being uttered without the blessing of the queen. She has her entire life planned and guided so she doesn't break the Crown's rules. She has been an outstanding model of good behavior, that's until she meets a certain witcher.

Word Count: 3.6K

Warnings: Blood and gore, swearing, mentions of death

I

“Ma’am…” Knock, knock, knock. I had heard whoever it was coming to wake me up before they even got to my door.

“Yes?” I heard them hold their breath, they weren’t expecting me to be awake.

“Uh-uh yes ma’am, Druk is outside. He has sent for you.”

“Yes thank you. I’m awake.” I said as I rose from my bed. Folding at the hips my fingers gazed at the floor as I yawned in a stretch. My spins cracked along with my shoulders.

“Yes of course ma’am” There were no footsteps and the heartbeat was still there outside the door.

“You may leave now.”

“Right right, yes ma’am.” Scurried light footsteps filled the empty hall as they left.

With a heavy sigh, I contemplated the day I had ahead of myself. Mornings with Druk were never different. The day was was one full day of drills, day two was one different full day of drills than to day three, four, five, then repeat next week. Druk wasn’t like other witchers I had met. He wasn’t focused on the coin or glory. Maybe it’s because he saw his brothers and mentors be slaughtered when his Keep fell.

“Knock knock.” My eyes snapped to the door of my room, dragging attention away from the gauntlet on my. My mother stood at the door. She was still in her sleep clothes, a wool robe hugged her body as she smiled softly at me from the door.

“Morning mother,” I said looking back at my gauntlet, huffing in frustration as I struggled to get them tied.

Wordlessly my mother walked across the room, grabbing my arm as she sat in the chair across from the one I was in. her fingers delicately tied the strings tightly, the gauntlets tightening around my wrists. Once finished, she softly held one of my hands, her face was cold, stoic as always. But once she looked me in the eyes I saw the fear.

“You know, don’t you…” I nodded my head. Looking out the window of my room, breaking eye contact. I stood up walking from her to the armored cabinet in my room. I grabbed my two swords from their hooks looking over them and assessing their sharpness.

“I heard you and the court talking last night. Many in this castle forget I have super hearing.” I heard her sigh heavily, shakily.

“I’m so sorry, Ina…” I turned to her. Her gaze was on the floor, her chest rising and falling fast.

“Mum...don’t cry…” I crouched down by her side, my hands going to hers squeezing them. She looked back at me, one hand cupping my face. Her thumb softly brushed over the scar on my left cheek.

“I’m so sorry I brought you into this world...Into this life...I wish I had known your life would be so painful…” I leaned into her warm hand, my eyes closing as she spoke.

“Stop blaming yourself...everything happens for a reason...and no matter what happens after the meeting today...I will always love you.” Her hand moved from my face to my neck. She pulled me into her chest, hugging me tightly.

“I’m so sorry.” Hse sobbed into my hair, rocking us back and forth. I said nothing, just kept my arms around her, holding her while she sobbed. Her tears wetting the spot she laid on my shoulder.

“Don’t be…”

II

“You know princess, I do not normally wait. You are lucky the gold and wine your mother gives is so good.” Druk’s voice was below a whisper as we snuck through the damp dark woods. My hands felt the tree bark under us as we slowly tipped around the fallen trees, as to make as little noise as possible. Funny with Druk’s big mouth.

“My mother is very worried about the meeting tonight,” I whispered back, following him as he weaved in and around the thickly wooded forest. We were hot on the trails of a stray kikimore that had been terrorizing a southern village. Druk and I were sent to take care of it.

“Are you worried?” Druk asked, pausing to look back at me.

I stopped too for a moment, thinking about his question.

My eyes searched the forest around us while we sat in silence. The forest was no longer lush and green. Late Saovine meant the world was cold, covered in ice and snow. Nothing was awake. All the animals were in hibernation, birds had flown south for the winter. The only things still awake were the monsters.

“No. I’m not. Should I be?” Druk looks away from me, his amber eyes searching the forest around us.

“Tonight is the night a pannel of witchers, mages, and the royal court you belong to decide if you go through the trials...maybe a little of fear. It would be healthy.” I smirked and rolled my eyes.

“Fear isn’t necessary for my vocabulary.” Druk laughed softly, his head nodding as he looked me in the eyes again.

“Then don’t be afraid. Fuck em all. If any woman could survive the trials it’s you.” Once finished with his small sentiment, a cheesy grin spread across his face. He nodded his head in the direction of the kikimore and we both rook off after it again.

Our feet lept, ran, jumped, and sprinted across the fallen trees and rocks throughout the forest. The snow-covered ground would cause too much noise. Druk had gone to the Witcher school of the cat. He prides himself on his ability to remain stealthy and quiet, all while being just as lethal as witchers from other schools. He taught me to only put my feet on the ground when it really mattered. You’re much easier to be tracked and killed when you travel foot to the ground. But foot to a tree to rock is a different story.

Jumping from a rock onto a tree we scaled the side till we were above the tree line. Out heads stuck up and out of the dead branches. Our chests rising and falling heavily as we looked around, noses sniffing out the location of the kikimore. The high point giving us the advantage. Druk’s yellow eyes scanned the trees below while I sniffed the wind. He had better eyes than I. his mutations to thank for that. The wind blew softly and the thick smell of iron and rotting corpses seeped into my nostrils and filled my head.

“To the east,” I said quietly. Druk adjusted his direction eyes grazing the land elbow us. A small smirk graced his lips, he found it.

“It about four hundred yards northeast. Common princess no time to waste.” We quickly scaled our way down the tree till our feet were steady on the branches. He wasn’t wrong, we were already out way longer than we were intending. Meaning we were going to be late for the meeting.

Druk took the lead. His hand holding the hilt of his silver swords. His other hand out in front of him, his fingers gleaming with a soft blue tint. Aard was spoken in elder inaudible to the average human. He was prepared to blast the kikemore to give me more time to ambush it. Druk only ever took the lead, then he’d stand back and watch. He’d teach me a new skill by charging whatever beast. Whether it was a new sign manipulation, a new combat skill, or hell even how he wields his sword. He started, I’d then follow and clean up.

“Ready Ina?” There was a soft pop and a cork fell onto the ground below us with a soft thud. His head fell back the liquid pouring down his throat. He grimaced slightly before turning to me, his eyes were black as night, now white to be seen. The veins on his neck, face, and hands were dark black and bulging. The potion was vital for witchers, giving them heightened senses, and skills. Allowing their powers to increase.

“So fucking ready,” I said, a smile gracing my lips. He returned the smile, his more sinister with the help of his eyes.

My sword was in hand. The silver catching the few rays of sun peeking through the clouds above. We both moved silently through the brush. Out feet feather-light against the snow. We moved fast, never keeping pressure on one spot too long to not break the crust of the snow. Druk made it to the clearing first. The Kikimore was alerted to us as soon as we reached its small nest.

Druk’s hand thrust out in front of himself, a huge ball of blue light smacked into the kikimore, throwing it back and hard into the tree. Druk sheathed his sword and ducked behind me. The kikimore shook its head before it made eye contact with me. I crouched lower to the ground, eyeing the beast. It slowly started to move to its left, so I mimicked it. We slowly began circling one another. The Kikimore’s large gray limbs stabbed into the ground with every step. Its gross snarly face, red beady eyes looking me over, studying my every move. The only issue was I knew where and how it would be.

The kikimore pounced, its legs kicking up dirt as it tore after me. The short distance between us was gone in no time. I lunged out of the way. Diving and rolling away from the clumsy beast. I was much smaller, giving me an advantage.

“My my what an ugly fucker you are.” I mocked. The beast turned to me again, and let out a low grumbly growl. I was moving closer to its nest. I could smell the rotting bodies even worse as I moved slowly. My eyes never leaving the kikimore.

It charged again. I slashed my sword through the air, spinning around, splicing my sword up in the air. The kikimore squealed and screamed as its leg fell from its body. Spinning on my heels my sword slashed through the air again, making contact with its neck. The sword slashed through the beast’s thick, fat neck like butter. The screams stopped, the kikimore’s body falling limp on the ground, blood-spewing, and pooling on the ground and around my boots. I sighed heavily, a smile gracing my lips again as I whipped the dark black blood from my blade before sliding back into its sheath on my back.

Clap, clap, clap. “Very well done princess!! A full-grown warrior kikimore down in two strikes, no potions or magic!” Druk had a smile ear to ear, his potion still in effect. Seeing a laughing, happy smiling witcher with pure black eyes was a sight to see.

“Only as good as my mentor my dear friend,” I said with a laugh. Crouching to the ground, my hand gathering the small tuft of hair atop the kikimore’s head and lifted it so it was eye level with me. Blood dripped from its mouth, nose, and eyes. Its dark purple tongue hung out of its mangled mouth.

“Add another one to my list.”

III

“Common hurry Druk!!” I yelled through the rain as we ran up the cobblestone road towards the castle. The kikimore’s head swung over my shoulder. “We are already late they will have my head!!” Druk ran from the stables after me, quickly catching up with me right as I neared the doors.

The two guards opened them for us as we walked through. I breathed heavily, my lips blue as my teeth chattered. Despite my many abnormal traits I still got just as cold as the average human. The rain had come out of nowhere. The two of us speed walk down the corridor, our muddy boots squeaking against the marble floors as we got closer to the royal library. A place I’d only ever been when I was being threatened by the crown’s court. The doors appeared ahead of us as we both halted before we could be close enough to be heard. The floor below us was wet as we dripped head to toe.

Glancing at Druk I gulped, now that I was about to walk into the room, I was more than terrified. The prospect of the trials was so much closer than they had ever been my entire life. Druks hand went to my shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

“You’ve got this.” He whispered, before giving me a soft push towards the door. I took a deep breath before shoving the door open, swallowing the fear and placing the stoic look of my mother back on my face.

The voices in the room stopped when I walked in. my boots stopping heavily on the floor. My eyes glanced around the room, everyone there were people I have known for many years. My mother stood in the center of the room by her throne, my sister who was not supposed to be here was next to her. They looked scared.

“Sorry, I’m late, had a prior arrangement.” I heaved the beast’s head over my shoulder and threw it on the floor. It flopped down and rolled a little its tongue falling out as its cold dead eyes stared up at Gadri, a member of the Crowns Court. His face scrunched in disgusts before he kicked it away from his shoes.

“You are nearly three hours late, Ina.” I rolled my eyes my attention going back to my mother and sister.

“What is she doing here?” I asked pointing to my sister.

“We think it’s important that the future queen gets to help make choices regarding her subjects.” Hazzez, a plump fat little man with a bald shiny head and large white mustache and beard said standing from his seat.

I huffed, the corner of my lip pulling into a sly smirk as I shook my head. Water falling on the floor.

“Yes, the future queen who passes her sister even tho her sister is the senior. Yes, and my sister needs to be in control of whether I will be subjected to the trials and if I’ll die or not.” Druks witcher attitude tended to rub off on me. Witchers are trained, to be honest, overly honest. Blunt and rude is what many present them as.

“Ina. enough.” my mother said sternly, her jaw tightening. I bite my tongue nodding my head. My fingers pulled at the buttons of my jacket, throwing it on the floor in a wet pile. The room was cold, making the wet clothes on my body send shivers down my spine.

I glanced around the room, eyeing the other members of the Crown’s Court. And then the other few people who were in the room. Tissaia, a mage from Aretuza smiled at me fondly as we made eye contact.

“Hello, princess, my how you’ve grown.” Her voice filled the empty room. I smiled back at her.

“Tissaia-” I bowed my head to her softly, “yes, it’s been a while hasn’t it? What 15 years?”

“17 years.” my mother chimed in behind me.

“Whos the mystery man next to you?” I asked her, she glanced over at the witcher who was perched next to her. Druk was seated next to him.

“Well get to that in a second. Please sit down.” Hazzez said, gesturing to a lone isolated chare in the middle of the room.

It was as if I was on trial, for simply being born.

IV

“Druk how has she been doing?” My mother asked, her eyes glaring daggers at the five men who were attempting to discredit the years of work and training I had done with Druk.

Durk rose from his seat next to the other witcher, a bored look on his face. “She is exceptional. Not only her physical talents in combat and swords but her book knowledge. I’ve trained three other witchers before her, and none of them come close to the skills she posses. She is a skilled alchemist, a skilled swordsman, she is skilled in nearly every talent she tries. I would trust her in a battle to have my back any day. It has been an honor training her for 15 years, your highness.” I smiled at him, a smirk covering his lips.

“With all due respect your highness we are not interested in what the witcher from a failed school has to say. The witcher to his right has been watching her and keeping track of her success. That’s who we care about.”

Before the witcher could address them, Tissaia stood up. “What is the problem here gentlemen. On her fifth birthday, you all made this a rule. You said her abnormalities would only ever benefit her if she was trained as an assassin or a witcher. She has been trained for 17 years by a witcher, as a witcher. She has proven time and time again she doesn’t need the trials and mutations to be as skilled as a witcher.”

“Thank you, Tissaia, but need I remind you that you are only here to as a stand-in for the mage in your court who can still perform the mutations. Please sit down and be quiet.” My mother shot Tissaia a look, making her shut her mouth and sit down. The witcher next to Druk stood up.

“I have been following her and her trainer. For months now. Even just today I followed them while they killed the stray Kikimore. She killed the Kikimore with two strikes something many of my boys have struggled with as fully mutated and trained witchers. She without a doubt has a talent and a heart of the witcher.” I heard my mother’s breath catch in her throat as she held my sister’s hand. My sister was stating at me, had been since I sat down. Her face was painfully still, her throat tight as she breathed heavily. She looked scared, so did my mother.

“Tissaia, you will take Ina to Kear Morhen. Along with the mages in your court. The mutations will be done by the end of the week.” My throat ran dry. Hazzez kept talking but my brain tuned him out. None of us thought they would go through with this. The chances of me surviving the trials and the mutations were nearly impossible. Less than 20% of the boys who face the trials died. And the mutations are designed for male genetics, not females. I was never supposed to be mutated, just trained.

“Hazzez you piece of shit!!” My mother screamed as she stood from her chair. Her hand reached for the dagger she kept strapped to her thigh.

Her hand came down quickly with the shinny dagger, flying towards Hazzez face. My hands quickly caught her arms and I pushed her back. Knowing if she killed one of her court members over me I would surely be sent away and killed, no chance of survival.

“Mother mother please stop it please,” I screamed into her red, tear-stained face as she attempted to fight me off. Her chest rose and fell heavily. She hissed through her gritted teeth, she was probably breaking teeth.

“Queen Calanthe-” Hazzez spoke. I turned to look at him, my back to my mother. Her dagger is in my hand. I threw it to the floor, kicking it away. “Do not forget the sympathy the crown, and your father gave you for your bastard daughter. She should have been killed out of the womb. But your father cared too much for you. Count your blessing that you got 20 years with her, and at least she will die with a little bit of dignity.” Hazzez stood up to leave, the four men ready to follow him, they gathered their belongings.

“Gentlemen.” My mother said, her voice harsh and cold like the wind outside. Her brows set in a low glair as she looked them up and down. “I am still your queen, you do not get to control everything. It’s clear you’ve made your choice, but when it happens. That is my choice. She is my daughter. I choose when she goes with the witcher. I do not know when that will be but it will be after her sister’s betrothal. If you have an issue with that, find a new court to control.” the five men looked at her, then each other before nodding and walking out of the room silently.

My mother’s hands held my arms as she dragged me into her chest. My sister came up to us both, her hands wrapping around both my mother and me I. her head resting on my shoulder. Wrapping one arm around her and one around my mother, I let my fear fall. My fear came out in silent sobs. My shoulders shook, my eyes clouding as I stared at the wall behind my sister. The tears pooled down my face.

My mother pulled back, one hand on each of my cheeks, her fingers brushing my tears away.

“You will be the first female witcher to ever be. You will make history.” my shoulders started to shake more violently as I cried more. The impending end of my life is on the horizon. My mother’s denial was just to help her cope, but we both knew how it would end.

“Mum...we both know what will happen to me...I won’t survive it.” my voice was broken as I spoke caving as I cried. Her fingers moved faster to wipe my tears as she shushed me. My sister’s hands are on my arms and back.

“Even if that’s the case, it won’t be for at least another month. Live your life for the next month the way you want to, no regrets,-”

“No hesitations.” I interrupted her, a small smile tugging at my lips. Her eyes softened at me. She leaned in placing a soft kiss on my forehead.

“You can do this Ina. You are the Lioness Cub. If anyone can do it, it’s you.”

[too-gay-for-marvel]

just this once pt.3

a/n: i know im technically a day late, but we stopped very late. but its here! and its gonna be a decent amount of parts, so be prepared, besties

Word Count: 2,439

Warnings: smut implications

Pairing: Natasha x Reader

(pt.1 pt.2 pt.3 pt.4 pt.5 pt.6.1 pt.6.2 pt.6.3 pt.7 pt.8)

Natasha had to admit, she hated how understanding Maria was. She had gone home and told Maria what you had said, expecting to become single almost as soon as she had finished talking. But no, Natasha had finished her rant, and Maria had taken a deep breath before saying “I’m sorry,” and dragging her into a hug.

She would’ve handled a “we’re over” much better.

But it helped ease some of the guilt that she was carrying around with her. It lifted some of the weight that had been keeping her head down and feet dragging. And with Maria being the most understanding person in the world, now she could live her life. Did she forgive herself? Fuck no, but at least she could move on with Maria.

It helped that you kept to what she had told you.

In the months after learning the truth, she never saw you. Her feet never took her to your suite, her thoughts never trailed to that night. Well. Not during the day. She… didn’t want to talk about the dreams.

Natasha was able to go a solid month without seeing you, and even though the back of her mind kept telling her to talk to you, she had stayed away. She had kept to her “honey do” list, went on her missions, and just lived her life.

Until Fury stuck his nose where it didn’t belong.

“You two have a mission.”

Natasha looked over to where you were standing, over in the corner as far away from her as you could be. Your eyes were down, only occasionally darting up to look at Fury when he was talking. She could see the fins on your arm flare out a bit before relaxing again, along with the slight twitch of your gills.

“Can this mission not be done with one person?” Natasha asked, her eyes still locked on you; you shifted your weight from one foot to the other.

“It requires stealth and…” Fury looked over at you and sighed. “Gills.”

“And here I thought you kept me around for my good looks,” you teased with an upturn of the corner of your mouth.

“When do you need us?” Natasha asked, and your half smile fell as quickly as it had appeared.

“You leave bright and early, 0400.”

With that, Fury left the room, leaving you and her alone. She took note of your fins staying flared, and took that as her sign to leave. Your feet shuffled, and she moved slower just in case, but you never reached out to her. That was all Natasha needed to head back to her room to prepare for tomorrow.

Tomorrow came far too soon, and it felt like only moments later that Natasha was standing in the hangar, watching you prep your gear.

Incorrectly.

“Your holster’s backwards,” Natasha pointed out.

“It is not, I’m testing something out,” you shot back without looking up.

“Whatever you put in there is going to fall out,” she continued.

You ignored her, but tried to turn it around without her noticing. She did. A silence fell over the both of you as you continued to get ready. Natasha had already gotten all of her stuff, but you continued to move around. You grabbed your belt and a harpoon, all of them quickly attached at your hips.

You maintained your relentless pace, her face pressed against the wall as you held your hand to the back of her neck. She felt you thrusting into her, most likely leaving a bruise on her ass and hips, but all she knew was that it felt so good she could only think of one thing-

Natasha turned her head away, a slight blush dusting her cheeks. If anyone noticed, they didn’t say. She refused to look at you until you stood up straight, geared up and ready to go. Your suit told her that there was going to be some sort of underwater aspect, and that gave her a bit of insight as to what was expected of the both of you.

The quinjet ride was awkward, to say the least. You stayed in the back while Natasha flew. She was thankful that you were keeping your distance. If you had been close, it was very possible that Natasha would have lost her damn mind.

Your suit always did do something to her.

You hadn't even bothered to take your pants off; just pulled them down far enough for you to get your strap out. Her fingers scrambled to grab purchase of something, anything, but your suit was still wet from the mission. Almost as wet as she was.

Natasha shook her head, trying to physically remove the memories. She was going to kill Nick when she got back.

She needed to focus on the mission. There was no need for it to be anything other than a mission. Get in, map out the building, get out. You would cover the lower levels, she would cover the upper, it shouldn't take more than an hour.

It was a slow descent to the checkpoint, but easy enough. You spent the last few minutes braiding your hair, keeping it out of the way and showing off the shaved part of your head. Natasha remembered teaching you how to tie those braids.

Once the quinjet was landed and you were both on solid ground, it was straight to business.

"Once you get back to solid ground, your pants and gear should be in a backpack marked on your locator," Natasha said.

"We'll meet up in the eastern stairwell," you continued, not even skipping a beat. It was like nothing had ever happened.

"Comms on?"

"Gonna miss me?" You asked, cocky as ever, but you turned the comm on anyway.

"Just get moving," Natasha huffed with a roll of her eyes. "The sooner we get in, the sooner we're done."

"See you in a minute," you winked and mock-saluted before jumping down into the hole that would be your entrance.

It's what she hated about you; how you could so easily act like nothing had ever happened.

Natasha closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Just one. Then it was time to get moving. She finished pulling her cap down, mostly covering the top half of her face before finishing the walk to the guarded entrance

She flashed a badge and they let her in without a word. One of her easier infiltrations, if she were being honest. Just went to prove that as long as she acted like she belonged, no one would question her. It was easier to blend in if you acted like there was no need for it.

Starting from the top, Natasha made her way down the building, mapping corridors, potential hidden rooms, rooms of interest. By the time she made it to your meeting point, she had marked more than enough information to assist in future missions.

All she needed was your half and she could go home.

The door to the stairwell was thrown open, slamming against the wall and causing Natasha to flinch ever so slightly. You were still soaking wet, trailing water behind you, and you didn't have your gear.  In fact, you didn't have anything.

"What happened?" Natasha asked. But the sound of an alarm being set off was answer enough.

"It wasn't me," you stated simply.

Yelling echoed in the corridor behind you, and you gave Natasha A Look. That was all she needed before you both took off running down the stairs, skipping three or four at a time. She heard a *squeak* and turned around just in time to see you fall flat on your ass with a loud grunt.

“Get up,” Natasha groaned.

She didn’t wait for you to get up on your own, instead decided to grab your arm and yank you up. Except for the fact that she had forgotten how wet you were, and how slippery your skin could get, and you ended up falling back onto your ass a second time.

“Some help you are,” you growled as you managed to push yourself back up onto your feet.

“If you weren’t such a freak, this wouldn’t even be a problem,” Natasha shot back.

You both continued running, finally reaching the bottom floor just in time to hear echoed footsteps a few floors above you. Natasha opened the door and pushed you in, quick to follow after. She shut the door and grabbed the extra harpoon bolt from your hip, shoving it between the door and the wall while you protested.

“Get going,” she said as she continued to push you forward, looking for a way out.

“We could always go through the sewers,” you suggested with a shrug when you both came to a halt in an intersection that you swore you hadn’t seen yet.

“I’m not escaping in a fucking sewer,”Natasha shot at you. “You were supposed to find us a way out.”

“It’s not my fault someone ratted us out! I don’t like being stuck with you either!” You shouted back.

“Oh sure, after all of that bullshit a few months ago, now you don’t want to get stuck with me?”

“Listen, I said I was-”

“They’re around the corner!” A voice shouted. You and Natasha shared a look, and Natasha managed to pull you into a closet just in time for footsteps to be heard coming in your direction.

“We should’ve taken the sewer,” you whisper-yelled as Natasha tried to ignore how close to you she was.

If you two had been any closer, you would’ve been inside each other, and not in the enjoyable way. Natasha’s arms were pinned in between the both of you, and she could feel your ribs under her fingers. Her ear was pressed to your body; she could hear your irregular, three-pump heartbeat loud and clear. There used to be a time she would have enjoyed being so close.

You were both silent as you waited for the footsteps and yelling to die down. Even when they had faded, you stayed still, hoping that they wouldn’t open the closet as a last resort. Your body heat was comforting, and Natasha almost found herself forgetting the danger that was just around the corner. But then you gave an awkward cough and shifted, and Natasha was brought back to the fact that this wasn’t supposed to be enjoyable.

“I think we’re safe,” Natasha mumbled.

“Let’s get out of here,” you agreed as you cleared your throat again, still incredibly uncomfortable.

You reached around her and opened the door, the both of you practically falling out of the closet. When Natasha stood up straight again, she brushed the nonexistent dirt from her suit and avoided your gaze at all costs. Only when she had regained her composure did she turn to you again.

“You mentioned a sewer?” Natasha asked, completely defeated.

You nodded and started running in the opposite direction of the yelling, leading her down corridors until you both reached a manhole cover. Natasha could smell the sewage without opening it, and she could only imagine how terrible it would be once she jumped in. But there didn’t really seem to be any other option, and you were already prying it open just enough for them to slip in.

“Ladies first,” you gestured.

“Gee, thanks,” Natasha groaned as she took her last breath of semi-pure air and jumped in.

The stench was worse than anything Natasha had ever smelled before. All the death and ruin she had witnessed, and she still believed that this was worse. She couldn’t even attempt to guess at what was causing the smell, but she didn’t think she wanted to know. Maybe it would be a little more tolerable if she just pretended it was nothing.

You jumped in after her and pulled the manhole back into place, and just like that, it was like neither of you had ever been there. You didn’t wait for her as you started making your way out of the building, and Natasha quickly followed suit. She didn’t understand how you could breathe the air like it was nothing, but maybe it was part of your physiology. Maybe you were just lucky.

It felt like an eternity before you both ran into a ladder that would take you out of the sewer. You yanked the manhole cover aside and Natasha went up first, gasping when she smelled the fresh air. It was like being reborn, she thought. Her cells felt rejuvenated and her skin felt cleaner.

As soon as you pulled the cover back on, you both ran back to the quinjet as fast as you could. The stench of sewage followed you, stuck to your clothes; they would probably be incinerated when you got back to the tower. But you were out, and you could head back with enough confidence to tell Nick that you had at least gotten half of the building mapped out.

“You fly, I think I’m drying out,” you groaned. Natasha didn’t argue.

She sat in the pilot’s seat and set a course for the tower, wanting nothing more than a hot shower and a good sleep. But she looked back in time to see you stripping your suit off, groaning as it literally peeled off. Inch by inch, she saw your shoulders, your spines, your back, those abs.

You were never one to let anyone see you undressed, but Natasha loved that she was allowed. The way you shifted and twitched when her fingers ran over your skin, when you whined if she kissed that spot on your back. Loved the feel of your abs flexing as you thrusted into her at an inhuman pace that had her moaning and cumming for hours and-

“Nat, pull up!”

Natasha felt your hands covering hers, yanking up, and the real world unfolded before her eyes. The ground was quickly approaching, and the sound of the air rushing past the quinjet was enough to make Natasha’s hands shake. Only when the jet was back up and on course did she start to settle.

“Are you trying to get us killed?” You shouted, but Natasha just turned back to the front, trying her hardest to ignore the stinging in her eyes.

You grumbled and walked off, and Natasha could feel the frustration radiating off of you. But she didn’t really care anymore. She had nearly gotten you both killed because she had been too busy remembering you railing her. Natasha couldn’t do this anymore, couldn’t be around you anymore.

Not if she wanted to stay alive.

[jangofctts]

Are You in Or Out?

Rated: Explicit 

Word count: 11.5K yall I am SORRY

Warnings: good lord y'all here we GO-- smut, explicit language, violence and mentions of blood and gore, injuries, unprotected sex (don't be a dick, wrap that stick!), oral (m&f receiving), blindfolding, vaginal and anal fingering, vaginal and anal sex, double penetration, spit is used as lube but for the love of GOD doNT DO THAT, there are some dom vibes on Paz’s end    

Summary: The job you’re on takes a turn for the worst--Paz comes to your rescue and you're brought to the Covert. There you meet Din Djarin. though during a good natured sparring session, you’re suddenly stuck between an age old rivalry that spirals out of hand. Hopefully an agreement can be met. 

a/n: hey...how y’all doin....SO lemme explain you smthn. I said helmets must be OfF--giv me them LIPS BABEY so this is a slight AU in which mandos can see other mandos’ faces. ya get me? I also tHot that it would be nice and fun to set the timeline 5-6 years BEFORE the plot of the Mandalorian so we gots a younger din here. anyway, as always enjoy and I hope you like!!

Mistakes, mistakes, mistakes—

Some as little as burning your finger on the nozzle of a smoking blaster or tripping over your own shoelaces. Simple things. Mindless things. 

Nothing that could ever compare to the catastrophic decision of picking up bounty hunting as a reliable source of income. 

The little ones were easy—tax evaders and deserters of the Empire—most who’d yield and gladly follow without complaint just at the sight of your blaster pointed between their eyes. And the gag of it is—most of the time you never bothered to load the damn thing. 

Reckless.

An invitation for disaster. 

But skirting that precarious edge, one little slip up away from plunging head first into inevitable trouble is better than Bracca. Stars—anything is better than Bracca. There’s no glory in bounty hunting but there’s even less in ship scrapping. Abysmal pay in exchange for risking your life on rain slicked metal with only the Ibdis Maw to break your fall.  

The guild you work for is considerate—scratch that. Greef Karga is considerate. Sure the flirting is a touch unbearable but it saves your ass in the long run. All easy money bounties set aside for you in exchange for a cheap drink, hollow laughs and sugar sweet smiles. 

It’s enough credits to get by—more than plenty to rent a room and charter a ship. 

But there’s only so many bounties to capture within the limits of the guild and oh so many people the empty blaster trick works on. And so the credits begin to thin; it gets too expensive to buy off a pilot and the debate over buying food or being able to pay for your room becomes more frequent than the scraprats that skitter inside the walls.  

It’s suicide to snag a higher paying bounty because....well—these bounties shoot back. 

Whatever.

 Might as well die trying. Who knows, maybe you could score big time if you manage to pull this off. 

Maybe. 

                                                       -=-=-=-

You’re not sure who’s more surprised—Karga when you asked for the bounty or yourself when he actually gave it to you. 

“Are you sure, kid? This could—“

“End in a fiery shitshow? Yeah—I figured that,” you sigh, swirling your drink with a little complimentary toothpick. “But I need the money.” 

“Hah! You’ve got guts, girl.” He flashes you a smile and smooths down his mustache with his thumb and forefinger. “Tell you what. The last assignment was just taken but I’m sure if you run you could catch him. Work somethin’ out.”

Jumping from your seat, you throw on your coat and toss a couple credits onto the table to cover the drink. “What’s he look like?” 

“Big fellow—Mandalorian. You’ll know when you see him.”

You shout your thanks over your shoulder and hightail outta there. The landing docks aren’t far, you can see them from here. It’s finding the guy that could pose a problem.

If he hasn’t already left, you bitterly think. 

However, it seems the universe is on your side today. Karga was right. He is big. Stands out like a sore thumb against his ship that glitters dully in the overcast sky. Kinda like an oversized blueberry. A yellow and blue blueberry….not important—

“Hey! Hey, you!” You’re so close, just a couple yards away. You swear and hurry up your pace as he steps onto the loading ramp. “Big guy! Large...blue man?”

You trip over your own feet as he turns his head. Fuck—

No way are you gonna be able to bargain with this guy. Built like a fucking AT-AT and probably just as stubborn. After all, no one would ever be dumb enough to come between a Mandalorian and their quarry. You grimace, and suck in a breath—

Before a word even leaves your mouth he interrupts with a steady, unwavering;

“No.”

Your brows furrow. “I didn’t even say anything!”

“I know what you were going to ask,” he huffs, crossing his arms over his broad chest. “I work alone.”

Ok, then. You didn’t want to resort to begging, but you’re kinda running out of options here. You take a steadying breath and plant yourself at the bottom of the ramp. “C’mon man. Look—I’ll let you take seventy percent of the cut and I can—“

“You’ll let me?” He repeats, the staticky tone of his voice dropping into an edge more cutting than broken transparisteel. The metal platting on the ramp vibrates from the weight of his step to move closer; Stars it takes every fucking inch of willpower to hold your ground. “You’re lucky if I let you leave with your life. Get lost.” 

Fuckfuckfuck—you should listen. You wanna fucking run for the hills and never look back in case he comes looking to purge your name from the kriffing galaxy. You clench your jaw and steel your nerves. Too bad—you’ve dug your heels so far into this empire of dirt and false bravado that your only way out is continuing to poke the sleeping bear until he snaps your spine or caves.

You have to crane your neck to glare into that dark strip of his vizor, seeing as he’s invited himself into your personal space. “No.”  

“No?” He mocks, now toe to toe with your scuffed up boots. 

Your teeth clench, a scalding flush burning through your cheeks and all the way down to your chest. He’s toying with you—finding amusement in your stubbornness and apparent lack of braincells for challenging him. “You don’t scare me.” 

The man hums, a deep purr that rumbles through his entire ribcage as he raises his gloved hand. You curse yourself for flinching because surely he’s about to crush your skull like a fucking grape, but no. All he does is fix your rumbled collar then pat your cheek.     

“I don’t need the extra baggage.”

“I’m not baggage,” you sneer, slapping his hand away. “I can handle myself.” 

“With an empty blaster?” He points out, tipping his head to the side. “Your parlor tricks won’t do you any good on this job.”

“I’m a good shot!” You sputter, placing your hands over you hips and mustering up your best glare. “W-when I have ammo…” 

“Right.”

Meeting Paz Vizsla, could have gone far better, to put it into the most simplest of words. Jagged and hard to settle into a routine around each other for the journey to Nar Shaddaa in a tiny, old, and cramped freighter ship. Most cycles you have to wedge yourself beside a cargo crate to sleep. In addition to that, how it’s able to break through the atmosphere let alone fly is beyond you—an entire mystery on its own.       

At least you’re able to sit in the spare seat inside the cockpit—one of the only places available to stretch your legs. The only problem is that it’s also where Paz Vizsla likes to lurk (well, not lurk—it’s his ship and it’s where he can comfortably fit but—to each their own). 

There’s a net of tension still woven between you—each interaction like tiptoeing over eggshells. Though, like all things, it becomes simpler. There’s not exactly any ongoing conversations—you don’t want to pry into a life you know nothing about—it’s not your business despite the cumulation of questions that linger in the back of your mind. You know when to take a hint—not every person is willing to indulge you about their livelihood, and surely not something as secretive and well guarded as the Mandalore.  

Familiarity is what you want to call it. Comfortable with each other’s presence with small talk speckled in throughout the never-ending vastness of hyperspace. Compared to the infinite turmoil in your life, slippery footholds and uncertainty—Paz Vizsla is steady. In a way— predictable and safe in the confines of this ship.       

You’d even go as far as to label him kind, a friend maybe—if you look past the grumpiness and rather poor taste in corny jokes. You know it’s stupid, no doubt stemming from the deep ache of loneliness that comes hand in hand with staking it out on your own in the galaxy; but you can’t help but wish that this could be a new normal. Not some once in a lifetime thing where you both part ways, fade into the recesses of memory and leave it at that. 

If things go well—and rarely do they on a job—maybe you’d pluck up enough courage to ask him if you could stay. There’s no harm in it…right?

                                                 -=-=-=-

Well—the cynical part of you was right.

It did end up in a fiery shit show. 

Turns out the stupid quarry you’d been tracking excelled in long range weaponry. A former marksman for the Empire to be exact. Guess that tidbit of information wasn’t pertinent. A need to know sorta thing, if you will. 

You feel the molten bolt of plasma connect with your side before your ears pick up the sound of a weapon firing, like a crack of lighting in the empty alleyway. And before your body even connects with the duracrete, Paz is returning fire. A brilliant neon red against the hazy blur of shadowy buildings.  

Kinda weird how knocking the back of your head hurts worse than the literal blaster wound burned into your side. Shock maybe. Or the heat from the plasma cauterized each veins and artery it tore through and ate away at flesh and nerves. Hm…          

You’re sprawled in a wet pool of something—either your own blood or a puddle of stagnant gutter water and damn—you’re wearing your favorite shirt.

It doesn’t matter at this point…

You’re choking on your own air from the big ass hole blasted into your diaphragm, so to say things are looking grim is an understatement.  

Nar Shaddaa isn’t your first choice to kick the can on, but hey—not everyone gets the luxury of dying on Naboo. And just as you’re ready to slip away into that sweet, sweet abyss, it seems your fellow armored friend has other plans. 

The beskar is freezing against your cheek after he deadlifts you off the duracrete—you remember that plain as day. That and the hushed rumble of Paz’s voice insisting you save your dwindling supply of air instead of apologizing to him—or ordering you to stay alive for kriff’s sake. It’s impossible to argue with Paz—like trying to bite through durasteel, and while those beckoning tendrils of eternal slumber are mighty tempting, you cling to your life with all the strength you have left. After all, inconveniencing someone with a corpse is such a party foul to the highest degree.    

The rest is muddled—like dredging up silt and clay in a murky river that just leaves you with a pounding headache between your eyes. It’s a terrible mess of pain and bouts of temporary consciousness, mistaken with fever dreams and yup—more pain. The only consistent is Paz—hovering nearby or settled beside you—through thick and thin as you heal. 

There’s no solid reason your brain can conjure as to why he brought you to the Covert—it’d have been easier to just dump you at the nearest hospital and be done with it. You’re not his responsibility and you’re too afraid to ask what it means. Too many possibilities—too many answers you aren’t in the mood to face or untwist.     

And so you leave it be, set aside for another time—which brings you to the present day…        

You’re splayed over your little makeshift cot, feet propped up on a spare pillow as you scour through a cheesy Coruscanti gossip magazine. It’s years old—the only piece of entertainment you could find other than a weapon in the Covert. And seeing as a massive hole had been blasted through your ribcage, picking up the clever art of throwing vibroblades or shooting targets to pass the time was out of the question.   

Even if you’d rather fall into a Sarlaac pit than stare at the wall for hours on end yet again—it hasn’t been all that bad. It’d taken weeks before you regained enough strength to sit up on your own, let alone walk—and walking is putting it lightly. It was more of a stiff legged shuffle better suited on a two hundred year old woman seconds from disintegrating into dust at the mere hint of a breeze.  

Not to mention—your right lung was all but shredded. Ripped apart from the plasma bolt and miraculously reconstructed by a more than questionable bacta tank, hopeful thoughts and well wishes. To this very day you still sound like a broken air filter. 

Eh.    

Could be worse. 

At least you aren’t dead. 

Just another setback that adds on the growing pile of reasons why never to leave the Covert. Free food, free board and mild entertainment to top it off. Paz had stayed at your bedside for the most part while you recovered—stuck with babysitting your sorry ass until you regained a bit of mobility. The times Paz hadn’t been at your side to stave off the boredom, it was up to you to find your own fun. 

Snooping is what Paz had labeled it—but you saw it more as an adventure. You met Din Djarin exploring (lost is what you actually were) in the dimly lit underbelly of Nevarro, after all. Yes, you may have scared the ever loving shit out of the poor guy and yes, he may have singed off your brows with a five foot jet of fucking fire—but hey. No one got hurt.        

And you made a new friend. Sorta…Din is difficult to read, subtler in his soft spoken words and quiet demeanor. A bit like a skittish loth-cat at the start, but nowadays it’s not uncommon to find him lounging in the same space as you or hovering over your shoulder, awfully curious in whatever it is you choose to do. Like Paz, Din isn’t overly fond of sharing much information about himself but he never complains after you regale tales of your own vastly fascinating past. He seems interested enough—tilts his head a tick to the right when you speak to indicate that yes, he’s listening despite the unforgiving dark line of his visor.      

There are others in the Covert too—some so elusive you have a hard time believing they exist. Shadows of what they once were before the rise of the Empire. And so, you count yourself lucky that you’d been introduced to two others—Aeris Fenn, a young man nearly as tall as a Wookie, and a woman named Ives Arrey; her armor a flashy green—damn near florescent in the light. 

They’re nice enough company. Aeris is a chatterbox, his wit sharper than a blade but lacking in any forethought before he speaks. Ives is the far opposite—rolls each sentence in her mouth before she voices it, but in no way is she angelic. Maker—you’d bet your entire left asscheek she’s behind each bad decision and silly shenanigans Aeris sticks his nose into. He never learns—not after a harsh chiding or cuff around the helmet from Paz or the Armorer could dampen is childlike enthusiasm or steer him away from repeating the same mistake over and over.  

Though if you read one more kriffing sentence of this garbage magazine you’re about to invite chaos himself to entertain you. Good thing too because just as you sit up to find the red armored Mandalorian—Paz rounds the corner and steps into your little broom closet that hardly passes for a room. 

“Paz!” You greet, tossing the magazine over your shoulder. “Please tell me we’ll be doing something interesting or else I might start ripping my hair out. Or maybe commit a heinous crime—haven't decided yet.”      

Paz grunts and shakes his head. “You’ll be doing neither. But today we’ll be sparing—hopefully that will curve your boredom.”

You scrunch up your face. “Sparring? Er, no thanks—I choose life.” 

“You breathe funny since your injury,” he says, jabbing a finger between your ribs. “And all you’ve been doing lately is laying around.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you sneer, tucking your arms over your chest. “Didn’t realize I was supposed to be running laps with half a lung.”

“It’s like stretching a muscle, you need to gain your strength back.” He retorts. “This will be good for you.” 

You groan and flop back into bed. “I don’t wanna. I was pretty much dead like three cycles ago—cut me some slack, man.”

There’s a brief silence as if he’s mulling over your words, but he’s stubborn. You crane your head to look at him as he says your name with a deep sigh attached to it.   

“Truthfully, I’m surprised you’ve survived this long.” He says it quietly, fragile even, like he’s still expecting you to tip over and die on the spot. You very well might.  

You huff. “Wow. Thanks, Paz.” 

You feel his heavy stare through the helmet. “What happened to you that night was a mistake. It wasn’t preventable but the least I can do is teach you basic selfdefense.”  

You gripe out your complaints but you know you’ve been beat—and well, a bit of your agreement is based on guilt. 

Damn it.  

                                                     -=-=-=-

It’s weird to see Paz without his heavy duty gear—like seeing him naked or a crab without a shell. The only piece he continues to wear is his helmet and padded gloves and under clothes, but it’s still weird. Strange enough that it shocks you tongue into remaining still instead of bitching about this. 

He leads you to a wing of the Covert you’ve yet to discover and ushers you through the doorway. The floor is padded, a bit smaller than you expected and already occupied by none other than Aeris Fenn. 

It’s a whole other kriffing shock to the head seeing him without the plates and layers of fabric and beskar too. The armor makes him bulkier—fuller and much more intimidating. Now, with only his black underclothes on, Aeris could be the spitting image of a sentient tree. Willowy limbs that stick out like branches as he stretches on the padded mat. He lazily swings his head around as you greet him, his face still covered by the black beskar painted with streaks of red. 

“So you choose sparring over knife throwing?” Aeris snorts. “And to think I thought of you as a friend.” 

“You think I chose to be here?” You say, grumpy and still upset at the choice of activity. Really, a brisk walk around the Covert would’ve been fine.

Aeris shrugs. “Ah, and I see you’ve roped in my favorite vod. Tch, he uses his fists instead of his words to teach. I wish you luck—you’ll need it.”      

You open your mouth to retort but Paz beats you to it. 

“Leave.” 

“I’ve just arrived, actually,” Aeris scoffs, folding his torso over his other leg to stretch. “Perhaps you could reschedule. After all—our guest is quite free most days.” 

Welp—you’re perfectly fine with that. Problem solved. 

You spin on your heel and make a break for it but Paz snatches your wrist and pulls you back to his side. “Aeris.”  

“Paz,” Aeris mocks, tipping his helmet to the side. 

Paz exhales, a long, tired sound and grovels out another plea in clipped Mando’a. Aeris languidly stands and brushes off imaginary dust from the front of his pants. “Sorry, what was that? I don’t understand your accent.” 

“Boy—“

“No, no, it’s alright.” Aeris sighs, waving his hand in a mopey display as if he were told that his birthday party were canceled for the fifth year in a row. “I’d have trouble speaking too if my enormously thick head were cooped up in that little bucket of yours all day.”  

You wince. 

In the time you’ve known Paz Vizsla, he’s never been one to launch into rash decisions fueled by anger—he lets it simmer and build like an oncoming storm over the ocean. Devastating once it reaches land.

Aeris bobs his head and inspects his black leather glove, picking at a loose thread on the inseam over the thumb. He clicks his tongue. “Or'dinii—you’re going to kill her.”  

Your offended scoff is ignored as Paz steps forward; jutting his chin up to even out the few inches Aeris holds over the man. “You still haven’t learned to shut your mouth, boy.” 

The tension surges and crackles like a volt of electricity through the air—unresolved and ready to ignite with the sparking embers of Paz’s growing irritation. It’s not a fight Aeris Fenn will win. He’s volatile and hotheaded—but his expertise is in long range weaponry. Precise, deadly and swift—not whatever this little pissing match is heading towards.    

Aeris clicks his tongue as Paz digs a fist into the black fabric of his shirt. Paz yanks him forward, the metallic clink of their helmets colliding an unpleasant scrape that pierces your eardrums. Aeris snarls out sharpened words in Mando’a as his willowy fingers shoot up to curl beneath the lip of Paz’s helmet. 

In the blink of an eye, Paz lifts Aeris up by his collar and launches him across the room like he weighs nothing more than a couple of down pillows. His helmet meets the wall with a resounding clank, chipping some of the red paint outlining the visor. Ouch. 

Like a kicked dog, Aeris clambers to his feet, still dazed and swaying and for a fearful second you think he’ll retaliate. But with whatever braincells he happens to possess today—he instead spits out a venomous curse that even yourself would hesitate to repeat. He leaves without another word, bristling with rage. 

Your flash Paz a questioning stare. “The hell was that about?” 

Paz waves it away with an irritated grunt. “His heart is in the right place but he is young. Aeris doesn’t understand his place in the Covert yet and I doubt he will for years to come.” 

You frown. “Poor guy…” 

Paz mutters something under his breath. “Enough distractions. We’ve wasted enough time already.”

“Y’know…I think that’s enough excitement for today. I think I’ll be going now—“ Your last ditch attempt at weaseling out of this is quickly thwarted the moment you turn your back.  

You wheeze as the heel of Paz’s palm shoves into your shoulder blade, the force of it sending you stumbling to the ground. “Paz—“

“Go on. Hit me,” he orders. You squeak, narrowly avoiding the well aimed kick that skims the top of your scalp. 

You scramble to your feet, skirting out of range of the oncoming right hook. “So you attack me instead?” 

“How do you expect to catch quarries who are bigger than you?” He presses. You hiss as the points of his knuckles dig into the meat of your shoulder. 

You dance out of reach and rub your arm, a dull throb flaring up in the muscle. “I dunno—electrocute them?”

“Not if they take you by surprise.” 

You screech as his knuckles skim your cheek. Adrenaline pierces you veins and you wildly throw a flaky punch that wouldn’t even impress a toddler. He catches your fist with ease, his entire hand dwarfing your clenched fingers. “You can do better than that.” 

You snarl and struggle to rip your hand back. “I’m a scrapper. I don’t fight.”

“No,” he retorts. You fall onto your ass as he abruptly lets go of your hand. “You’re a bounty hunter.” 

You roll your eyes. “Hardly—why can’t I just stay here?”

Although there’s nothing to see with that swatch of black covering his eyes, you can certainly feel the look he’s giving you. A deep sigh hisses through the vocoder. “You can stay here—“

A triumphant smile splits across your face—

“—but not without contributing where it’s due.”

You puff up your cheeks and let out a dismayed stream of air. “Booo—lame.”

He sighs again and helps you off the floor. “Even if you leave the Guild, what I’m teaching you is helpful.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you say. “I’ll give you a call after I use your invaluable skills to beat up some thug.”

Paz ignores your comment and turns on his heel. “Let’s go through it again. This time use your front two knuckles instead of your whole fist.”

As your eyes land over the stretch of tight fighting fabric over his back an idea pops into your head. It’s a petty move but getting a punch in is fruitless—like trying to beat up a brick wall. You don’t fancy a broken hand and your knuckles are already bruised and swollen to the point where it’s hard to bend them. 

And so, without any forethought and with a running head start, you launch yourself onto him, your arms coiling around his neck. It does the job—takes him by surprise and makes him tip to the right. 

Aha! Yes!

Your reign of victory is short lived, however—

He latches onto your forearms strung around his neck and yanks. And much in the same way he threw Aeris like a sack of potatoes—you’re no different. For a short stretch of time that feels kriffing endless; you soar through the air, your directional whereabouts violently ripped out beneath you and equally nauseating in the same breath. 

Why you ever agreed to this—you don’t know.   

Your shoulder blade connects with the mat first, leaving behind a dull sting as you roll and tumble with uncontrollable momentum. Oh, yeah—you’ll feel that in the morning. 

Groaning, you thank the Maker that your body eventually settles into a miserable little pile of limbs and pain. But, it seems whatever higher power that lingers in the edges of the galaxy hasn’t decided to put you out of your misery just yet. 

A bulky shadow blocks out the dim lighting overhead, and for a brief anxiety ridden moment you’re afraid it’s Paz. You roll onto your back with a pathetic groan, a beg for mercy on the tip of your tongue—but as your eyes flutter open they’re met with an entirely different man. 

Din Djarin looms over you, his head cocked to the side as you blink in dumbfounded bewilderment. Ah, hell— 

You swallow, a furious heat bitting at your cheeks. “Uh…fine weather we’re having…”

“We’re inside,” he states with a brief glance up to the ceiling. 

You purse your lips. “Huh.”

With a pensive hum he offers his hand, you sigh and roll over, accepting his gloved hand. He hoists you up easily and adjusts your rumpled collar. “You ok?”

“Pfft, yeah,” you groan, rubbing your throbbing shoulder. “Never better.”

The low grumble of your name is a cross between disbelief and irritation. Din jerks his head, his attention zeroing in on Paz. “Are you trying to kill her?” 

“She isn’t made of glass.” 

“She is still recovering—“

Normally you’d intervene, but their bickering is tiring and it gives you the excuse to lie down. By the time one of them caves you’ve counted exactly one hundred and twelve weird ceiling stains. They should get that checked out.  

“Very well,” Paz snarls, cutting through your wandering thoughts. “You teach her.” 

Din scoffs, his shoulders drawn tight as he stomps over to your splayed out self. “Get up.”

“Geez, fine,” you grumble, not in the mood to test his patience further. “Since you asked so nicely.”

Later he’ll no doubt apologize but right now? He has to prove a point. Din cuts right to it, moves in close to place your clenched fists in the right stance and nudges at your feet until they’re a bit wider than hip distance. 

“You have to get in close with a bigger opponent,” he says, stepping into your space until your fists are close enough to touch his chest. “We don’t have much range here—easier to break our guard too.” 

“Right. And how would you suggest I do that?”

“You’re always beating me at cards.” Din says, tipping his head to the side. “You have a clever mind. Use it.” 

“But I always cheat.” You point out, dropping your guard to swat at a stray hair.   

He catches your wrists and returns them to where they ought to be. “Quick enough to get away with it.” 

You make a noise of uncertainty but do as you're told. Din takes a couple steps back and with a rough order you begin. 

He’s faster than Paz—bats at your guard in quick bursts and steps away when you attempt to hit back. It’s a dance almost—somehow elegant in its brutality of bruises and flashes of pain as you move around one another. Compared to Din, Paz is almost clumsy but unpredictable. Din—despite the rapidness of his attacks and evasiveness, becomes predictable.

He steps to to left—you follow. He rocks onto his toes to jab his fist forward and that’s where you find a break. Punching Din’s helmet won’t do you any good but catching the juncture of his shoulder with your elbow is completely feasible. Too bad that you’re not the only one with a clever mind.        

Din uses the momentum of your attack to catapult you to the ground—his own body rolling with you in order to capture you in a headlock of sorts. This sucks. After this you’ll never be setting foot in this Maker forsaken room again. 

Din tightens his elbow that’s looped around your throat as you squirm and flail, trapped against his chest. He grunts as your elbow digs into his ribs but holds steady and snakes his free arm across your front, pinning your limbs to your body in an unbreakable vice. All mobility is cut off as his knee pushes between your thighs, locking your leg out into an uncomfortable and frankly quite awkward angle. 

Inhaling a shaky breath, you arch as the crown of his helmet skims along the curve of your throat; the bite of beskar frigid and startling against your flushed skin. You can see his visor out of the corner of your eye; glittering and dark like the polished obsidian on Black Spire and endless like the greedy maw of a black hole. 

Your breath hitches as he shifts and curls his head closer to your ear. His voice rumbles low and deep through his chest and vibrates against the delicate cartilage. “Yield.” 

However much your pride wrestles with the sensible part of your brain, it’s all for naught as you jerk your head in defeat.  

In retrospect you should’ve said something—used your voice or made some kinda sound because suddenly Din’s forearm digs alarmingly hard into your windpipe. He read the stuttered jerk of your head as another pitiful act of defiance but no. Nope. 

Here you are—asphyxiating.   

Not exactly what you had in mind, being strangled by a Mandalorian and all—but a chokehold where you could very well die was not it. 

Fuzzy darkness begins to shade the corners of your vision, lightheadedness and a curious warmth that prickles down your spine settling low in your belly. A raspy gasp manages to slip through your blocked off airway, and stars why does this feel good?   

“Din—”

Paz’s sharp bark is distant above the ringing in your ears and it all stops.

You gulp in air that burns your throat like refined fire whiskey—hunched over the mat as a large palm rubs soothing circles over your upper back. You cough and roll over, sounding like a dying animal run over by a speeder then hit with a spiked club to polish it off. 

You’re quickly herded into Paz’s arms and pulled into his lap. Still wheezing and attempting to recover lost oxygen, whatever Din is trying to say translates into an indiscernible hum against the ringing in your ears.  

“I’m fine,” you mutter, though neither of them care to listen. Like bristling wolves, snapping at each other’s heels.  

“Apologize to her,” there’s not so much as a centimeter of room to argue. “Now.”           

It’s nice of Paz you suppose—defending your honor and what not, but you’re not a vengeful person. It was an honest mistake and you want to explain that so Din quits looking like a kicked puppy, yet the sudden touch over your ankle stops you. All the times Din has initiated contact it’d been a friendly pat to your shoulder or ruffling you hair, and while touching your ankle isn’t exactly scandalous it’s certainly an odd place to put your hand on. 

Your fingers clutch Paz’s shirt as you eye the man lingering at the bottom of your feet, his gloved thumb unconsciously rubbing patterns into the exposed skin between your boot and your pant leg. “Cyare—I’m sorry.” 

You blink and lick your lips. Interesting. “I-I don’t know what that word means.”

His hand inches higher, resting on the swell of your calf. “Sweetheart…darling…loved one—“ 

There’s a shift—a dark undercurrent that none of you should be dipping your toes into. There’s a million and one things to say or do to sever this at the root, but are you going to? Nah. 

Din’s thumb now rests over your knee, goosebumps following in his wake. “Should I keep going?” 

It too hot—stuffy with both of their heavy stares locked on your flushed face. You squirm and glance up at Paz who only offers an impassive stare. Great.   

“I can make it up to you,” Din continues, his hand stationary—a warm weight even through the fabric of your pants. “If you let me.” 

Your mouth feels drier than the desert on Jakku. This…nothing good could come out of what Din is hinting at. This is uncharted territory—launching yourself into the great unknown without any idea of what’ll fester and grow if you agree. 

It’s not like it hasn’t crossed your mind—it’s just…it’s never been both of them at the same time. These men are short-tempered, an open flame to jet fuel with deeply seated ire woven into the very fabric of their beings. You’ve barely scratched the surface on the inner workings of their mutual hostility, but you’re bright enough to question if this will make it worse. Tinder and brittle twigs feeding and enabling the hungry flames of rivalry to spiral and consume with chaotic brilliance of a dying star—

But, oh—

Isn’t it worth taking the risk? 

You suck in a grounding breath and slowly extend your leg that Din touches, gingerly skimming the toe of your shoe along the inseam of his inner thigh. “H-how would you…make it up to me?”

Din preens at your answer and shuffles closer, lifting your legs so that they rest in his lap. Devotion drips off his words like a fine liquor as he toys with the laces on your boots. “Anything—say it and it’s yours.”    

Sparks of molten heat race down your spine and metastasize in your lower belly, spreading through each vein and artery like a some sort of invasive ivy. You spare a look up at Paz as he shifts.      

“Go ahead, girl,” Paz assures. “Answer him.” 

It’s an unspoken, buzzing sort of thing like the static air before a storm, crackling and surging with pent up energy. You all know the implications of what’s to come—but it’s your words, quiet and steady that irons that nail into your coffin.

“Take me like you mean it.” 

The next few moments pass in a dizzying blur, a mess of anticipation as your shoes are yanked off, your pants following soon after and tossed into some unknown corner of the room. Paz helps you out of your shirt, a shiver wracking through your body from the chill, leaving you bare save for your underthings. Yet the warmth that seeps through his shirt and his hands that linger over your ribcage do a lovely job at making up for the cold.

Din shuffles closer and brings his fingers up to cup the side of your face, lowering his head to rest the crown of his helmet on your forehead. “Wanna touch you.” 

Your breath hitches as Paz’s hands sweep up your torso, cupping and kneading your breasts. “Y-you already are touching me, Din." 

Paz snorts as the rough leather of his gloves scrape over your skin and unhook your bindings. You hardly hear Din over your own whine as Paz rolls your hardened nipples between a forefinger and thumb. 

“I want to feel you—without the gloves,” Din clarifies, fighting to keep your attention on him. “Will you let me?”  

Maker that shouldn’t even be a question. You moan out your approval, delighted that both of them decide to slip off the padded fabric. Din touches your bare thigh the same moment Paz returns his hands to your tits and it’s exhilarating. The rasp of their bare palms against your flesh is addicting—something so foreign and warm compared to their usual armor and thick layered clothing. 

You arch into Paz’s hand as it curls around the base of your throat, a tentative pressure but still heavy. “You’d let us do anything, wouldn’t you? Needy little thing.”

“Yes,” you croak, already debauched and falling apart at the seams. “Anything.”

You’re all too happy to fade away in the embrace of the larger man but the other participant is far from letting that slide. Din grabs your hand, guiding it towards the front of his trousers, the drawstrings already loose and easy to pull aside. He groans and twitches as your fingertips flirt along his navel, then curl over the waistband, tugging his pants the rest of the way down to pool around his knees. 

You reach for the already impressive outline of his cock pressing against his boxers, but Paz cupping your cunt through your underwear just before you touch Din is distracting. You gasp and arch as Paz digs the heel of his palm against your clit, electrifying ecstasy zipping down your spine with each touch. 

There’s a twinge of guilt after Din huffs and drags your limp wrist back to his cock, this time encouraging you to palm him by guiding your actions with his own hand until you lazily oblige. Din’s quiet grunts, gravely against the vocoder do nothing but throw more jet fuel to the fire inside your belly. The growing urge to actually touch him gnaws and corrodes the forefront of your brain. With a firm yank his boxers are quick to join his trousers and Maker—

Fuck—

Will he even fit?

Din is thick, rosy brown and flushed at the tip and beginning to curl towards his bellybutton. A bead of liquid shines at the tip, dribbling down the underside as he wraps his fist around the base of his length. He gives himself a languid stroke before he, once again, reminds your hand of what it’s supposed to be doing. Din is searing in your palm, molten and stiffening to hardened steel in your grip.   

“You look so fuckin’ pretty like this,” Din hisses as his head rolls back onto his shoulders. “S-so pretty holding my cock.”

Your desperation tears at your insides, insatiable and Maker— you wanna taste him. You want to hear every little stuttered moan and feel each twitch of his hips as he claims your mouth as his own.    

But before you’re able to ask Din if he’d be willing to fuck your throat, Paz grips your knee and slings your leg over his thigh, murmuring praise as he peels off your underwear. Paz’s hand snakes down to your pussy and runs two thick fingers through your already slick cunt, then delicately parts your folds. 

It’s like a fucking bomb going off as his thumb grazes over your swollen clit. His forearm locks tight around your waist, keeping you in place as you arch and tremble. Paz is feather light and teasing, as he strokes over the little bundle of nerves in a painstakingly slow rhythm. 

“Paz—“ 

He nudges your cheek with his helmet and chuckles. “You’re so sensitive, vaar’ika. Such lovely noises too.”  

Paz trades in his light touches for using his two fingers instead. They form a relaxed ‘v’ shape, trapping your clit in between the digits as he massages in a steady up and down motion. You cry out, every nerve shocked and flooded with saccharine pleasure, shoving you so treacherously close to that precarious edge of release.      

You have no fucking chance as a different set of fingers, leaner in length but just as bulky, carefully prod at your entrance. Din’s pointer finger slides into your cunt, quickly adding a second as your core clenches and stretches for him. The dual sensations over your clit and Din’s fingers steadily pumping and curling inside you send you hurling into that dazzling white-hot pleasure.     

Throwing your head back, you cry out—a jumbled mess of their names or just nonsense— pleasure crackling out from your core and all the way down your legs. Your cunt tightens like a vice around Din’s digits, your legs twitching as your high dips into prickly overstimulation. You whine, and swat at Paz’s hand, Din pulling out his own fingers a moment later and wiping your wetness on the inside of your thigh. 

Your head rests in the crook of Paz’s shoulder as your breath fans across the side of his helmet, fogging up the metal where the blue paint is chipped and scraped away. The shirt he wears smells a bit like sweat but the underlying scent of him is comforting—worn leather and something crisp, like fresh laundry. You don’t mean for the words to slip out—

You know better than that, but everything feels muddled and silly and, and, and—

“I wish I could kiss you.”  

It’s like dousing ice cold water on a pile of smoldering coals. A silence, petrifying and like the inhale before jumping off a cliff and into a rocky sea, ensues. Stupid, stupid, stupid—  

Paz shatters the fragile suspense with a rich laugh that burns away all the icy worry making itself a home in your ribcage. He moves his arm up, his fingers gripping your jaw to fix your gaze onto the other Mandalorian. “You want his mouth on you too?”  

You whimper and nod, but it isn’t enough. 

“Use your voice vaar’ika,” Paz hums, pressing the crown of his helmet against your cheek. “Tell us want you want.” 

“I-fuck—” Paz’s fingertips sneak up your torso, rough callous catching deliciously on your skin. “I wan’t your mouth on me. B-both of you.” 

Paz chuckles and releases his hold on your chin. “You’ll have to be blindfolded, sweet girl.”

Din scoffs, a harsh crackle through the vocoder. “Like she’d want to see your face anyway.”

“Please,” you mewl, turning your head to curl into Paz’s neck. It’s not ideal, but it’s a sacrifice you’re willing to make. “I don’t care. I need—“

“Patience, little one,” Paz purrs, rubbing up and down your bare sides in a soothing manner. All it does is stoke the flames. “You’ll get what you want.” 

Paz shifts, reaching for your abandoned shirt and stars—

You can feel his cock, firmer then tempered durasteel and poking into your lower back. Oh, hell—these men are going to ruin you. 

You’re nudged forward, your vision going dark once your shirt is securely tied around your head. The knot traps a few hairs that pull sharp against your scalp but the measly pain is worth it. Oh so worth it.  

“Is it too tight?” You hear Din ask, concern lacing his gravely vocals. 

You wave your hand in dismissal. “S’fine.”

“Cant see anything either, right?” 

You squirm, your patience spreading thin. “Din, please.”

“Fine.” There’s no bite to his tone and under different circumstances you’d have more composure. Acknowledge that they’re putting their religion, their whole being into your hands—a fragile trust that could so easily be shattered. 

Your ears pick up their subtle movements, their helmets landing onto the thin mat with soft thunks. With bated breath you wait for them to jump into action, seize every spare moment to taste your skin and breathe the same air. But—

“You need a haircut, vod.”

“And you need to shave.” Retorts Din with bitter indignation. 

“It’s hardly even stubble.” He chortles. You giggle and twist away as he scrapes his prickly cheek up and down your neck. “Besides—she likes it.” 

There’s another lull, and with the blindfold everything is amplified—the quick and quiet breathing of Din on your right and the slide of fabric against skin as Paz shifts. Your attention is captured by Din’s bare palm, warm and calloused like weathered leather left out in the afternoon sun. He caresses the outside of your thigh in smooth, longing strokes, enraptured by the softness of your skin. You whimper and let your leg fall open, exposing more of your thigh for his curious exploration. 

The sudden touch on your cheek is jarring. You know Paz is there—it’s not an easy thing to forget the solid chest you’re leaning against but it’s hard to focus. Difficult to settle on one thought before it slips away like grains of sand between a clenched fist. Paz’s touch is heavier than Din’s, ambitious and greedy but…mindful. Even as his fingers spread along your jaw and drag you into a deep, mouthwatering kiss. It’s…stars—   

There’s nothing that can describe this. No word that could ever hold a candle up to the way his lips, plush and soft, move against yours. His nose brushes against your cheek as he tilts his head and deepens the kiss, his warm tongue sliding against the seam of your bottom lip. 

You whine and bury your hand into his hair as Paz groans, a low rumble in his throat. You wonder what color it is, but carding your fingers through the curls atop his head suffices for now.

Your curiosity is abruptly ended as Din’s hand snakes around your forearm. You’re forcibly yanked away, only to be met with another pair of lips. Din murmurs an apology at the sting of his teeth bumping into your upper lip, but the pain is hardly the first thing on your mind. 

Din’s kiss is devouring—  

Scalding and bright—the galaxy, a thousand suns, all there ever will be and all that ever was. The way his lips move against yours is a devastatingly sharp contrast to the steady, syrupy sweet kiss Paz offers. Desperate and eager to surround you in his own arms—steal away any lingering thought and replace it with him. Din Djarin—  

You gasp as Din’s teeth nibble and pull on your bottom lip, only a moment before he surges closer, wrapping his hand around your jaw to hold it open as he licks deep into your mouth. Breaking for air, Din tangles his fingers into your hair at the base of your neck and yanks, baring the column of your throat. His travels down, the tender kisses morphing into teasing nips and lingering sucks that’ll turn into tender bruises in the morning. 

Din hovers over your breasts, his heated breath and cooling saliva the catalyst to the goosebumps that rush over your skin. He lightly tugs on your nipple using his teeth, then plants a sweet kiss over your sternum.   

“Can I taste you?” Din murmurs, his lips ghosting over your flesh. “Maker—wanna put my mouth on you.” 

“Din—“ A different set of lips latching onto the juncture of your neck and hijacks your train of thought. Wipes your mind clean until Paz is the sole thing you can consciously focus on. 

Paz laves his tongue over the shell of your ear and urges you to lean back against him once more. Your nose scrapes against his stubble as you tuck your head into the crook of his neck, his hips lazily rolling his hardened cock into your backside. 

“Or…” Paz rumbles, capturing your hand and interlacing your fingers with his. You marvel at the sheer size of his palm—astounded still when he leads his and your hands to palm his cock. “I could give you this. Fuck your pretty little cunt until you’re screaming for me.”

It’s a punch to the gut. Why the fuck do you have to choose? You squirm as Din points his tongue over your nipple then sucks it into his mouth. 

Working through the fog in your head, the answer is clearer than fucking crystal. Because who in their right mind would turn down a Mandalorian’s request to eat you out? Not you, that’s for sure. “Din—want your mouth.”

Din huffs in triumph and slips between your legs that part to accommodate his broad shoulders, leaving no patch of bare skin untouched and worshiped. You shiver as his tongue circles around your bellybutton then retreats. Din settles his head beside your knee and mouths a kiss there.  

You whine his name and buck your hips, heart beating wildly in your ears. The teasing is unbearable and, stars—if he doesn’t start now— 

He nibbles on the inside of your thigh, laving his warm tongue over each mark he leaves behind, buffering the sting of his teeth. Din snake his hands under your ass, hooking your knees over his shoulders as he heaves your cunt closer to his mouth. Din’s thumbs part your soaking pussy, his breath hot fanning over your cunt. His tongue his scalding—like liquid velvet as he dips the tip of his tongue from the base of your slit all the way up to your clit. 

Din sucks on the little bundle of nerves, rolling his tongue until you’re crying out, molten pleasure zipping through you. He grunts as your fingers tangle into his hair—fuck. Fuck, you need more.   

Arching into his mouth, all thoughts are obliterated; nothing but the warmth of his tongue, and his lips, devouring you as if he were a man seconds from death and you’re his saving grace. That frenzied desperation lingers on the edges of his movements like he’s afraid you’ll fade into smoke—but you’re not going anywhere. Not even a million credits could convince you to push Din’s head away. 

He sinks two fingers into your clenching hole and curls his fingers, stroking and curling his fingertips to make you sing. Zeros in on that little spot that causes the involuntary twitches of your leg and wrenches embarrassing, high pitched mewls that fill the room. You’re careening towards your high, the sensitivity of your last orgasm amping up the influx of pleasure. 

“Shit—Din. Close—I’m so close,” you gasp, pulling his hair tight enough that you know it must hurt. He makes no sign that it does, just groans and buries his tongue into your dripping hole, licking alongside his fingers that shovel more of your wetness into his mouth. 

Your release unfurls through your body like sticky molasses—smoldering embers that seep into each limb until they’re heavier than lead. Fuck—it’s so hard to think and at this rate your brain is as good as gone.   

You pay only a fraction of attention to Din as he kisses his way back up your body and lands a final one over your lips. His thumb grazes over your chin, his gravelly words of praise cutting through some of that foggy haze, how good you were, how fucking delicious you tasted when you came on his tongue. You taste your own arousal on his mouth as he noses your cheek and captures your lips in another kiss.           

“Are you done?” Paz asks dryly, much too barbed to be thrown your way. You groan when Paz jostles your limp body as he hoists you back into his lap.

“Just starting, actually,” Din quips. “Why don’t you hand her back over? I’ve got some more things I wanna try.” 

Paz scoffs and secures a heavy arm around your middle. “Greed will get you nowhere.” 

“Neither will your arrogance.” 

“Shut up—both of you,” you interrupt. Your voice is raw and choppy but it does the job. “Just fuck me already.”

For now their little spat is sidelined—it’s not worth ripping off that bandage of a temporary truce. There’s a chaste moment of quiet, like they’re considering tearing into each other’s throats instead, but with a touch to Paz’s thigh the standoff fizzles out. 

“We need to work on your manners,” Paz suggests, curling his large, calloused hand around your neck in a loose hold. “I believe it’s please fuck me.” 

Maybe if you weren’t practically a pile of brainless goo, you’d argue. See how far you can push—though this time you fold. “Please fuck me. P-please—I need it.” 

Seemingly satisfied with your answer; Paz wedges a hand between your bodies to grip his cock and run the tip through your folds, soaked from you own wetness and Din’s saliva. The head of his member nudges at your entrance, and wether it’s his size or the fact you can’t see anything—you panic. 

Your hand shoots out, nails harpooning into the meat of his forearm. “W-wait—you’re too b-big.”  

Paz freezes and moves you up his lap and presses a kiss over you hairline. “We can stop. Just say—“

“N-no, I’m fine,” you assure, planting an apologetic peck on his stubbled jaw. Stopping is the last thing you want to do—it was just…overwhelming. A sensory overload testing the very fringes of your being. “Go slow?”

You feel his head bob in compliance as he moves you back to where you’re hovering over his cock. You relax this time, not as many alarm bells clanging through your head as your cunt flutters around the fat tip and then that glorious, first thick inch. Paz’s thumb bumps over your throbbing clit, coaxing your pussy to take him further. 

“Yeah, that’s it vaar’ika,” he grunts, his breath fanning over your neck in quick pants. “Taking my cock so fucking well. So nice and pretty.”

Your pussy flutters, fresh waves of arousal hot and burning.You nearly keel over when Paz starts shallowly rocking his hips, easing your body the rest of the way down his length until the back of your thighs touch his. Maker—how the hell is he all the way inside? You can feel him in your fucking guts—         

“See?” Paz purrs. He sucks a bruise into the meat of your shoulder and pushes his palm against your lower stomach, making the fit even tighter. “Fits fucking perfect.”

The noise your cunt makes pulling out and the debauched moan that filters through his vocal chords is obscene. If anyone where to walk by, well—it’s certainly not training that’s going on, for the better lack of words. 

Paz holds true to his word—keeps his pace limited to deep, languid thrusts that brush up against something that makes your whole body shake—like strumming a golden chord molded to a musician’s fingers. Fuck—he’s doing all the work too. Lifting you by the swell of your hips and pulling you down onto his cock with a rough buck of his hips. 

Abruptly, he slows to a gentle rocking—quick to lock you in place as you thrash and roll your hips. “Paz—n-no. Keep going. You n-need to—“

Paz silences your please with a wet, open mouthed kiss. “Our friend looks lonely. Why don’t you use that pretty mouth and suck his cock?” 

Din. 

You hear the man curse in Mando’a, probably some stab at Paz—

But with a pat to your outer thigh, you don’t need any more prompting—you’d give up your left hand to get a chance to suck him off. With the help of Paz, you’re eased onto your hands and knees, shocks of white-hot pleasure zipping through your core at the change of angle. Like this Paz is seated deeper inside, stabbing into each spot that makes you sing.    

Fuck—your arms are shaking—only able to hold yourself up for half a click and then you’re sinking face first into the floor, ass in the air as he fucks into you. Paz clicks his tongue and wraps his arm around your front, pulling you back up from your slumped position. 

“I told you to suck his cock, girl. Not take a nap.” Paz accentuates his words with heavy, well measured thrusts—the kind of force you know will leave your whole lower half throbbing and sore in the aftermath. 

You whine as Paz grabs a hold of your jaw, digging into the tender joints until your mouth falls open. “Good. Keep it like that.” 

Paz’s hand falls away, replaced by a softer touch. The pads of Din’s fingers hook under your chin, guiding and tempting you nearer to what rests between his legs, hot and heavy and large.       

You feel the tip of his cock, flushed and pulsing, rest on your bottom lip. You lap up the beads of sticky precum with kitten licks that morph into suckling the entire head. Din grunts out your name and tangles his hand into your hair as you tongue at the ridged frenulum. He never forces you to swallow down more of him—lets you cradle the first few inches in the wet warmth of your mouth and languidly roll the pad of your tongue around him. 

You want to take him deeper, let Din fuck your throat raw, but your jaw already aches. Your lips are pulled tight around his shaft, drool dribbling down your chin and landing on the mat below. You’re not sure if you could take more of him without the danger of your teeth catching or dislocating your jaw. So you manage like this—hollowing out your cheeks and and using the momentum of Paz’s thrusts to pleasure Din.          

It’s frustrating—it must be each time you let his cock slip out of your mouth to breathe or the fact Din isn’t able to fucking fit his cock into your mouth. Annoying that you aren’t able to think properly to help him out a bit ore when that said brain is being fucked straight outta you, put through the wringer and then body slammed onto duracrete. 

Din cups your cheek, strokes over your skin with his thumb and maneuvers himself out of your mouth. You whine and lean into his palm, his touch addictive like smoldering coals in the dead of winter.    

“You want me there instead of him?” Din purrs, using the tips of his index and middle fingers to tilt your chin and drag you into an open mouthed kiss. “Fuck you like you deserve.” 

The profane imagery of Din between your legs instead makes you clench tight. It only takes a couple seconds and a few more feverish kisses before you’re nodding to his request. Paz mutters a swear, hesitates, and reluctantly pulls out, leaving your cunt empty and aching with need. 

Din, however, is speedy—quick to hoard you to himself and yank your legs over his hips so that you’re draped on his lap. He jumps straight to the point, no fancy maneuver or drawn out teasing—just grabs the base of his cock, slides the flushed tip between your folds and sinks into your cunt. Even after your pussy had been stretched and molded around Paz’s length, you struggle to take Din’s entire cock into your aching center. It’s easier than Paz but, Maker—not by much. 

You whine, harpooning your fingernails into his shoulder once he bottoms out. Din snarls a curse and latches his teeth onto the juncture between your neck and shoulder, prickly pain shooting directly to your belly. “Fucking tight. H-how—fuck.”

There’s no time to adjust before Din sets a pace, harsh and desperate—his hands digging into the flesh of your ass for better leverage. Each roll of his hips borders erratic, taking his pleasure without thought—intent on reaching his own end before it could be yanked out from under him. Din’s staggered exhales below your ear are interlaced with subdued moans that start low in his ribcage then dip into a higher, airy pitch. A delicate sound you’ll guard closer to your chest than any secret you possess for the rest of your life—precious and yours. 

Din turns his head to steal a kiss. “You feel fuck—fucking good. Wanna feel you cum around me. S-squeezed so fucking hard around my fingers—“

You choke out a groan and feel your arousal begin to drip down your thighs—hear the thrusts of his cock into your cunt become shamefully wetter. Heat sizzles down each vertebrae in your spine, burning up each and every cell with the brilliance of a wildfire. Stars, this is gonna destroy you.      

Din’s hand sneaks between your bodies and rubs tight, little circles over you swollen clit. There’s no build up to your orgasm—just a blinding surge of blistering warmth that knocks you off your feet and steals away all the air left in your lungs. Your nails dig into Din’s back as you shake and grapple for a foothold in your own consciousness—the steady warmth of his body a much needed anchor for the madness that threatens to drown you.  

“Good girl,” Din praises, pace faltering from just how tight your pussy squeezes and flutters around his cock. “S-such a fucking good girl for me.”     

Regaining some semblance of control, you realize he’s still fucking going—still rock solid and throbbing, fucking you through the aftershocks of your release. Your arousal turns sharp, like rough cotton over a fresh sunburn as it dips into overstimulation. It’s not unpleasant but Din has to slow his hips to a delicate roll for you to recover.            

In the time it takes to inhale, a different calloused hand kneads into your lower back then smoothes up your spine. A second later you feel the scrape of Paz’s stubble prick along your exposed shoulder as his tongue drags along your sweat dampened skin—all the way up the curve of your neck and ending at the shell of your ear. 

You’re not sure if it’s intentional, but as Paz crowds closer the tip of his cock pokes at your other hole. With a surprised mewl, you tense and shy away—but he follows, molds his chest against your back to sandwhich you in. The hand gripping your bicep jumps to your neck and pulls your head against his shoulder. 

Two of Paz’s fingers dip down the curve of your ass and brush along the puckered skin—far less jarring this time. “Do you want to be fucked here too?” 

Maker—

You’re gonna fucking explode.  

Stuffed to the brim already, it’s hard to imagine Paz cramming himself in along with Din. A little red light blares in some corner of your mind but it’s quickly soothed as Paz plants soft kisses over your cheek and jaw. You trust him—there’s no reason to think he’ll hurt you or push you to the point of pain.

You catch his mouth with a kiss and rock your hips back. “Y-yeah, ok. I trust you.” 

You feel his smile curl against your cheek. “Don’t worry vaar’ika—I’ll take care of you.”

Paz strokes your bottom lip with his thumb and kisses the crown of your hairline as you sink into him. With his ring and middle finger, he pushes past the seam of your lips. “Suck.”

You obey, sealing your lips around his two digits and coating them in your saliva. Paz pulls them out with a pop and moves them between your legs, and with the added wetness dripping from your cunt, the first finger is easy enough. The second and third have you gasping as he scissors them and stretches your tight hole wider. You claw your nails into Din’s shirt—and he’s no better—Din’s own hands are clamping around your hips, struggling to keep still and biting back moans each time your cunt constricts. 

Your hips begins to meet the thrusts of Paz’s fingers as your body familiarizes the feel of him there. It’s a deep thrill that rushes up through your spinal cord—much different from anything you’ve felt before. 

“You like this, don’t you?” Paz goads, chuckling when you whine as he extracts his fingers. “I think you’re ready to take my cock, yeah?”

You shudder and nod, your voice no more than a squeak as it pilfers out. Paz strokes the top of your head and tips you forward into Din’s eager arms as Paz slicks up his length in a mix of precum and your dripping arousal. He touches the swell of you ass in warning, lines himself up with your hole and wedges the tip of his cock inside of you.     

Involuntary tears dampen your makeshift blindfold as Paz buries himself deeper, his rumbling tone urging you to relax—relax even though your mind is drowning in an ocean of arousal and swirling emotions you have no hope to pin down and analyze. It’s for the best—thankful as Paz bottoms out that it wrenches you back to a feasible reality you’re able to manage.

“Shit—I-I’m gonna die—“ You sob, writhing at just how full you are. But there’s nowhere to fucking go—     

“Easy,” Din breathes, and you wonder if he’s said it to keep his own head on his shoulders. “Easy.”

Din’s gravelly rasp cuts through the fog in your head, and stars—you sound like you’re fucking dying. Your wheezy breaths and lightheadedness would certainly suggest that—but no…no, you’re fine. Better than fine.     

A rush so acute and devastating launches up your spine as Din’s patience cracks. He experimentally rolls his hips and that’s the end of it. You’re swallowed up in that riptide you fought so hard to avoid—fuck. You won’t be the same after this. How can you?  

You can feel them both, separated by a thin wall as they sprint towards their own highs. You’re never once left empty—Din reaches the end of you as Paz pulls out and while there’s not exactly any finesse involves it’s the best fucking thing you’ve felt in your entire life. There’s no bickering—no teasing and you’re struck with an idea that makes you clench tight around both of them. You wouldn’t mind if this was the way they decided to settle scores or finally see eye to eye.   

This time you can’t discern your high—just a constant overflow of ecstasy and dazzling arousal like an imploding supernova. You cry their names—sob and shake in their hold with such fervor that Paz traps you tighter between them to keep you still.  

“Fuck—you get so fucking tight,” Paz growls, blunt nails digging into your hips. “And so fucking wet.”

His fingers touch the inside of your thigh and stars—he’s right. “I get to fuck your cunt next time—see how much you’ll drip for me.” 

Even if the blindfold were off—there’d be nothing to see but a white wash of nothing. Blinded by pleasure and bursting at the seems. 

Jealous, Din steals your breath away with a kiss, licking and nipping at your swollen lips until you whine his name. His jagged pants fan across your chin—chapped lips and patchy facial hair tickling across your bottom lip as you breath the same air. 

Din whispers your name like a prayer, his fingers clutching tight around your thighs as his pace starts to flounder to choppy jerks. “Shit. I-I’m close—“

Your fingers twist into his hair. “Yeah—ok baby. Let go.”

Din’s teeth sink into the base of your throat and cums. His seed coats your insides—hot and copious and fucking shit—if there’s a next time you want him to cum in your mouth.      

You don’t get time to relish Din’s stuttered gasps of your name, laced with praise and a show of a tender and bleeding heart before Paz is gathering up your hair in a tight fist and jerking your head up. “You—you want me to cum too? Say it.” 

Without a breath of hesitation you beg for it, cry and arch into him. It does the trick—

Paz is loud—shouts a thunderous roar and buries his cock deep into your hole. Din is still recovering from the aftershocks of his release when Paz pulls out after what seems like ages pumping you full. His cock no longer there to plug you up, his cum begins to dribble out and mix with the mess between your legs. Your legs shake and you wobble--crying out as Din slips out, your body dreadfully empty and aching.     

You're lowered to the mat by Din and if you weren't still trying to formulate words, you'd thank them. Lips dart over your cheeks and hairline, and for once nothing needs to be said. It’s nice...the radiating warmth from their bodies and the simmering flush through you body is something you could get used to. But you’re no stranger to the shifting tides of the future. 

You shrug it off.    

Your eyes are heavy and with one of them stroking your hair and the other your thigh, you drift to sleep. Later—later all unspoken things and disastrous words can be dealt with tomorrow. You must be dreaming when it’s said--careless and bold, but the words nestle into your heart and sprouts with fear. 

“You love her, don't you?” 

translation:

vaar’ika--pipsqueak 

or’dinni--dumbass idiot 

vod--brother/comrade 

tag list: 

@bobafctts​ @djxrxn​ @teaofpeach​ @corrupt-fvcker​ @nelba​ @datmando​ @ben-is-a-hoe​ @dreams-like-clockwork​ @aerynwrites​ @auty-ren​ @huliabitch​ @anxiety-riddled-mando​ @phoenixhalliwell​ @trippedmetaldetector​ 

[prfctethereal]

just another horror movie. | james potter

pairing: james potter x reader

chapter: one 

warnings: NSFW, smut, oral (male receiving), exhibitionism, talk of dead bodies, actual dead body, blood, vomiting

word count: 3.7k

read the prologue here or on ao3 here

summary: you and james take a quick detour through the woods, to have a bit of morning fun, but find something gruesome.

Three weeks earlier…

The quiet town of Hogwarts had never been quieter. It was typical though; towns that resided in the countryside of Scotland were often described as “quiet”, unbeknownst to most that it was anything but. Except, Hogwarts lived up to the stereotype. Peaceful, tame, quiet.

Quiet.

God, you needed some quiet.

Exam season was narrowing in, which meant endless nights of caffeine and random studying music that you found on spotify, its main purpose to help you concentrate. It was unfortunate, with the school year coming to a close, but you were determined to leave the year proud and satisfied with your work. Everything was going perfectly so far. Nothing could screw it up.

This is what you told yourself as you began your walk to school this morning. Leaving your house at seven in the morning on the dot had become the regular for you. Now that Summer was finally coming in, the walks were warm, without chilling breezes. You could feel comfortable with the wind in your hair and a light shirt on your back.

Something felt tranquil about this morning in particular. You didn’t feel held up or anxious. You didn’t even feel stressed as you busily organised your school bag this morning. You didn’t even blink an eye when you dropped your chemistry textbook on your foot. You were in a good mood. You were glowing.

Maybe it was because you had been getting some amazing sex from your amazing boyfriend lately.

Maybe.

But today wasn’t for what ifs. Today, you had one thing on your mind. A conversation needed to be had between you and your guidance counsellor, as the prospects of colleges were starting to roll around. Applications were beginning to close and your aspirations for life after high school were beginning to get clearer and clearer. You no longer wanted to be tied down in a small town, where the most important job you could get was at the Mayor’s office, sitting at a desk, listening to the complaints of highly egotistical citizens.

Wasn’t for you.

Your mind drifted off to your could-be life, and before you knew it, your legs had walked to your boyfriend’s house without you even realising. It was something unconscious and natural, something you were completely used to. The sight of the grand, three-story mansion that your lover lived in brought unprecedented comfort.

The spiralling pillars covered in the greenest of vines was something from a fairytale. A pale cerulean was painted across the panelling, giving a dream-like feel. Right above the front door housed a giant window, one that opened up into James’ bedroom.

Right. James.

Walking up the path, you felt comforted by the familiar sound of gravel beneath your feet. It reminded you of all the nights you had snuck up this very path to climb into James’ bedroom via the window. Nostalgic really.

Now you were here in broad daylight, ready to walk hand in hand with your boyfriend to school. Knocking on the front door, you were excited to see a nearly immediate opening of the door, with a very joyous boy standing there. His signature dopey smile glistened even brighter, as his eyes lingered over your clothed body a little longer than expected. His tongue shot out very quickly over the pink cushions of his lips, something you could’ve missed in a blink of an eye, but you didn’t. Laughing, he pushed his glasses up the nose of his bridge, before running his fingers through his unruly hair.

“Should we go then?” It sounded as though it was the first time James had spoken this morning, a fact that you didn’t mind, as your brain thought unholy things when listening to his gravely morning voice.

“Soon.” You mumbled, your voice trailing off slightly, as you stepped towards James, swinging your arms around the back of his neck. Taking a breath of his scent, you leaned forward, placing a delicate kiss upon his lips. They were slightly chapped, but you didn’t care.

It may have been a Summer day, but that wasn’t the only reason you were feeling hot.

Stopping yourself before you went too far, you pulled backwards, not before suggestively running your hands down James’ chest, smirking against his lips. “Come on, let's go.” You remarked playfully, smacking your hand lightly against James’ firm butt, which elicited a short laugh from the bubbly man.

So, hand in hand, you and James darted down his footpath, back into the street. Even more birds had woken up by now, with a choir of chirping serenading your descent into the bustling streets of Hogwarts.

Everything now seemed a little more public than you initially thought. Neighbours were waking up and going to work now too, giving no shorter than five second glances at you and James’ hand intertwined. You know what they would say; old people gossiped too much for your liking. It made you especially nervous, knowing that your parents didn’t know about your illicit relationship. Maybe it should stay that way. Well, before any neighbours get a little too gossipy in the weekly book club meetings.

“Are you listening to me?” James asked, snapping you out of your thoughtful haze. Blinking twice, you returned your attention to James, who’s eyes were laced with concern as he looked you over once again, eyebrows furrowed. “You seem out of it.”

“Oh, sorry.” Your voice came out almost silently as you looked away, flushed and embarrassed. “What were you talking about?”

“How I was going to fuck you so hard later today that you are going to struggle to walk.” James followed his statement with a dash of laughter, something that you mimicked like a pirate’s parrot.

“Well, I hope that’s not a joke, my dear.” You flashed a sly smile, looking James up and down. You both stopped walking, with James now admiring the way you were biting your lip, as if you were a siren trying to entrap him. Surely, you guys wouldn’t quickly dash away into the bush and go for a quickie right now, right?

James thought about it too, eyeing up someone’s poor hydrangea bush. Unfortunately, there would be too many witnesses, and exhibitionism wasn’t something you had both openly discussed before, although it wasn’t completely off the table.

“Lunch period.” James finally said, stopping his momentary halt, and marching forward.

“Lunch period?”

James leaned over, pressing his lips so close to your ear. His hot breath sent shivers down your spine, ones that ended in your core. “Meet me in the hallway between the chemistry and physics lab. I think there’s a new cupboard we could Christen.”

Giggling in excitement, you rubbed your fingers up the length of James’ arm, tugging him down the footpath, continuing your conversation about whatever. You learnt that he had a History test today, all about women earning the right to vote. You sighed as you listened to him talk about what he was passionate about, his stressed vowel sounds turning you on more than you would’ve thought.

Then came a predicament. An actual, real life crossroad. Right in front of you was where the footpath curved to the left, following along the road onto the main road through town. It was the way you went every day, with the road taking you directly to school when you walked along it, arriving perfectly at seven twenty-five every day. It was ideal.

This morning, though, you were feeling cheeky. From this footpath curve was another opportunity. The footpath also opened into a dirt path, something that twisted into the woods, or, as the conspiracy theorists of the town called it, the Forbidden Forest. It was hardly forbidden though; they literally took Scouts classes there, and those have kids as young as seven in them.

Feeling devilish, you paused James for a moment, the cogs turning over in your brain. You might arrive at school a little later than you first thought, but at least you would have some distance between the prying eyes of the Hogwarts neighbourhood. And maybe, you could have a little bit of fun too.

“James,” you smirked, tugging at the edge of his shirt, capturing his attention, something that wasn’t actually that hard to do, “shall we go for a detour this morning?”

Your eyes flashed over the forest and onto the quiet stillness of it. You could feel James’ heart rate speed up, but it wasn’t because he was scared. He was just as excited as you. It was like a switch had flicked on in his brain, although he was still hesitant, his feet still planted firmly on the ground.

“Are you sure?” James questioned. “How late is this going to make us?”

“Not that late at all.” You justified, mocking offence. “Oh, we should get there at maybe, quarter to eight? And besides, it’s fresh air, it’ll be good for us, and our lungs. Think of it as reversing the side effects of being around Sirius and Remus when they smoke all the time. Your lungs will thank us.”

“I’m not sure that’s how it works.” James laughed.

“How would you be so sure?”

“I’m the one that takes biology out of the two of us.”

You had to try another tactic, so, you jutted your bottom lip out of your mouth, putting on your best doe eyes, hoping you could flutter your eyelashes enough for him to give into temptation. “Please?”

A sigh escaped James lips as he seemed to give in. His reluctant look of worry was quickly replaced by an eager spark. Knitting his fingers in with yours, you two walked hand and hand together down the dirt path. The change of feeling beneath your feet was almost instantly recognisable, the normal, smooth, concrete path replaced by the rough dirt, and slight mud, even though it hadn't rained in days.

As you continued to wander down the path, you were suddenly covered in a canopy of shade, as the trees of the forest soon covered your heads. The route got a tad darker, the path no longer illuminated with the light of the sun, not that you minded though. You could still easily see where you were going.

You felt a little colder without the extra heat from the sun. You didn’t like the way goosebumps rose on your skin or the way you had to rub your hands along your arm to keep yourself warm. You felt out of control, a feeling of which you loathed. You didn’t want your perfect morning to be ruined by a little chill.

When you reached a tall, winding tree, you stopped James from his walk, pulling him off the path. Luckily, you had spotted a small dip in the earth, perfect to stay in, somewhere where regular bystanders wouldn’t find you. Happy with your discovery, you looked back at James, who had a puzzled look across his face.

“What’s going on?”

“Can I kiss you?” You asked breathlessly, your hands already getting fidgety. You wanted to be connected with James again, intertwined if you will. You needed to feel his skin, even if it was barely quarter past seven in the morning.

“Yes, love.” James breathed out, his voice quiet and shallow. WIth the consent, you leaned upwards, connecting your lips at last. It felt right to be pressed up against each other once again, even if it had been only yesterday when you had last felt such passion.

You deepened the kiss, feeling urgent to make the most of the short time you had together. Your mouths melded together almost perfectly, your lips pushing against each other like a playful pillow fight, one which you were determined to win.

Feeling mischievous, you reached to James’ hair, tugging lightly on his roots, an action you knew he liked. This action got the response you wanted from him, a needy moan, in which you took the opportunity to slip your tongue into his mouth, battling it out with his own, regaining confidence and dominance.

You pulled away, your cheeks flushed from the lack of oxygen. James looked disheveled but pleased, wanting to continue your little make out session, but unfortunately, you had limited time.

“Can I suck you off?” You whispered against his mouth innocently, looking up at his hazel eyes, brushing his hair off of his forehead. You could hear him gulp with nervousness, before nodding quickly, his hands making their way to his slacks.

You knew James was slipping into a mindset clouded by arousal, so you sank to your knees slowly in front of him, still looking up at him through your long lashes. On your journey downwards, you carefully unzipped the zipper on his pants, pulling them down to ankles, until he was clad in only his boxers.

Lifting yourself up slightly onto the balls of your feet, you kissed him lightly on the outside of his boxers, feathering gentle kisses. You knew you were being a tease, but you needed him nice and hard. As you felt his bulge setting like cement under your lips, you lifted your hands up, joining your lips so you could palm him, stroking the material.

When James started moaning, - “oh please, stop teasing, I beg you,” - you released him from the cage of his underwear, dragging the clothing down the apex of his things, watching the muscles twitch in excitement. There, James’ half hard cock laid against his thighs, the tip a gentle rouge colour.

Your fingers grazed over his prick, lightly tracing a prominent vein of the underside of the sex muscle. James groaned in pleasure, the teasing getting too much for him to handle. Feeling benevolent, you dribbled saliva over the tip of the cock, before wrapping your entire hand around it. You started stroking harder and faster, making sure James could feel all of you in a way you hand. He was starting to fall apart above you, but it wasn;t enough.

“So- so good.” James murmured, his eyes gently shutting as he became lost in the feeling. “Don’t stop, please don’t stop. I love your hands, so perfect, so precise. Perfect for me, precise for me.”

“It was like you were made for me.” You agreed with the raven haired boy, before bringing your lips down to the tip of his penis. This action shocked James, but the whimper out of his mouth made you know he was enjoying it. Living from the excitement of the exhibisionist route, you swiveled your tongue across the tip, reaching down the length of the cock, savouring his taste.

“Right there.” James moane, as you brung the rest of your mouth down over his now fully hard cock, reveling in the flavour of the salty precum that was leaking from his angry tip. With a smooth rhythm, you bobbed your head up and down on James’ cock, the sound of his moans itching you on.

You knew you were running out of time, and you still wanted him to cum, so you sped up your movements on James’ cock, stroking the base of his cock, which could not fit in your mouth. Adding to the pleasure, you let your hands move downwards a bit more, so they played gently with James’ hanging balls.

This applied pressure was becoming too much for James, as his breath became laboured and a tingling feeling was nearly bursting at his cock. “I’m gonna cum, please, I’m going to do it.”

You lifted your mouth off of James’ cock, just to murmur, “let go.” James, with your permission, spurted his cum across your hands. Eager to savour him, you opened your mouth, catching as much of the milking substance as possible, not wanting to waste any of it. Jacking James off through the entire thing, you watched as his orgasm crashed over him entirely, the way his face contorted in pleasure almost being the most beautiful portrait to you.

Licking the rest of his cum off of your fingers, you stood up, wiping your knees off, as the dirt sticking to you was becoming slightly uncomfortable. While you stood up, you reached from the top of James’ pants, pulling them upwards as you went.

“Thanks.” James almost laughed, except he still sounded out of breath, which was very reasonable though. You did just suck the life out of him. His fingers worked quickly, rearranging his pants, and cock, so that you both could continue on your way to school.

As you waited for James to finish cleaning himself up, your nose turned upwards. There was a strange smell coming from the area, one you didn’t notice before when you were on your knees in front of James. It was a smell that you were relatively unfamiliar with, but all you knew was that it stank like rotten meat.

“Can you smell that?” You asked James, looking off into the little ditch you were beside. Wherever you were, it seemed that it had been recently disturbed. Broken twigs snapped into pieces laid amongst crunched up leaves. If you squinted, you were sure you could even make out that faintest of footprints on the ground. It was odd, but nothing you haven't seen before in the woods. The smell on the other hand…

“Smells like thrown out vegetables.” James readjusted his glasses before holding out his hand, inviting you to close your fingers in with his. “I bet some old granny thought it would be a good idea to throw out their compost in the woods. If the council found out, they would have a fit. You know all about their weirdly tight rules on littering? It’s not even bad for the environment.”

You had stopped listening a while ago. Something didn’t feel right, but it was nothing you could sort out now. You weren’t satisfied but you turned back towards James anyway, knowing that you needed to head off to school or you would be running a little bit behind schedule. As you turned around, you noticed James’ face morph from a cheeky grin to a concerned frown.

“What is it?” You pondered, stepping towards James, matching his pear-shaped frown with one of your own.

“Did you cut yourself when you were on your knees?”

“Huh?”

“Look.” James bent down to look at your knees and you turned your head down too. What you thought had just been a bit of dirt must’ve been something else. Your knees were covered in a browny-red, maybe a maroon colour. It looked as though your entire knee had been cut open, as blood was still dripping from your skin, but that couldn’t be right. You felt no pain on your knee. You hadn’t cut yourself.

Swiping your fingers across your knee, you gathered some of the drying blood on your fingers. This was the first time you had looked at your hands since you wiped off your knees before and you saw that you had smudged blood stains all across your palm. You nearly barfed on the spot. You felt incredibly uneasy, like a stormy ocean filled your stomach.

You lifted your fingers up to your nose, a theory hypothesising into your head, and you were right. The smell of the blood matched the rotten meat smell you could smell before. As if you were a dog, the odor latched onto your nose and expanded, its putrid smell being the only thing in your senses.

“I'm going to be sick.” You doubled over a rock. Resting your hand against a boulder, you hovered downwards over a patch of leaves, letting your breakfast out. Your head was reeling as you could still smell the retching odor of the old blood. You couldn’t get it out of your mind, so you leaned over again, round two of the hurling intervention.

James rushed over to you, placing his warm hands on your back, rubbing soothing circles. He wished he could say that his main focus was to make you feel better, but it wasn’t. Over in the deepest part of the dish, he noticed something strange. It was almost like a small lump in the ground, something unnatural. It seemed to be covered very messily by old leaves and sticks, and an entire tree branch, as if it would make it any less inconspicuous. It even had that opposite of the desired effect, seemingly sticking out like a sore thumb.

“Darling,” James waited until you lifted your head back up, regaining your breath once again, “what do you think that is?”

James’ hand pointed into the direction of the ditch, in which you followed his eyesight and body movements. You could see it too; just a lump in the ground. Your mind was racing of what it could be. A dead animal? A pile of rotten food? Maybe a…

“Holy shit!” You had only just realised that James had already walked over there, except his body was covering your eye line, and you couldn’t actually see what James had found. Although, he told you immediately. “Quick, call the police. It’s a body.”

A dead body in Hogwarts? Making sure you didn’t lose any more of your stomach through puking, you rushed onto the path in the woods, grabbing your phone out of your pocket, hoping you could get service all the way out here in the woods. Fumbling to turn your phone on, you nearly groaned out in annoyance when you saw that you were getting no bars of service.

Running back to James, you couldn’t stop at the moment. You called out to him, your words a blurred mess, trying to convey to him that you were going to find someone to help. Unsure if he had even heard you, you ran back down the path, your feet carrying you to where you needed to go, unable to bring yourself to a cohesive thought.

When you exited the forest, you flicked your head around, trying to find someone, anyone, that could help in the moment. The first person you saw was your calculus teacher, Mr Slughorn, to which you promptly called out to.

“Mr Slughorn!” You cupped your hands around your mouth to project your words across louder. Mr Slughorn snapped his head around and gave a friendly wave. Annoyed, you shook your head. “Call the police!”

“What?” He called back, walking towards you now. You groaned, trying again.

“There's a dead body in the forest. Call the police!”

***

lmao. anyway this has become a series whoops.

[aelingalathyniusrailme]

Gwyn appreciation week-day 7

free day

read on ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3163402

gwynriel first kiss one shot

Close, she was so damn close. He needed to get a grip, she was not just some random lover who he enjoyed from time to time, this was Gwyn and they were busy.

She lay sprawled on the couch with her feet in his lap and a book in her hand. He had one in his own and together they were researching the history of narben and other powerful swords embedded with magic. Azriel’s eyes were glued to the page but he couldn’t seem to manage more than a few words before a new unwanted thought plagued his mind like a parasite he could not rid himself of. I want to kiss her.

Internally he scolded himself, Gwyn was not his nor would she ever be. He had been present on the worst day of her life, the rage he felt then was unlike the cold ice that ran beneath his skin, ever-present, but a burning fiery hatred fueled by a need he did not understand. He was a living reminder of the trauma that burdened her. Azriel could not blame her if she never wanted to be around another man again, she had been violated in a way that he would not wish on his worst enemies. She likes being around you. The whispers crept up his skin like a cool breeze, the feeling had long since lost its shock, but Azriel still felt the urge to shiver. He watched as a lone shadow darted out and entwined itself in Gwyn’s hair, the smokey blackness contrasting her metallic red hair. Gwyn put her book down, and the broad smile that bloomed on her face stole the air from his lungs. She tipped her head back, letting her pin-straight locks fall across her shoulders, and laughed. Her laugh was a contagious, lovely sound, and Azriel couldn’t help letting out a soft chuckle of his own.

“I like you when you laugh,” Gwyn announced, looking up at him.

“You always like me,” He responded with a quirked brow.

“Yeah well,” she conceded “I like you more when you’re not brooding your ass off.” He feigned mock hurt, putting his hands to his chest like he’d been stabbed. Gwyn rolled her eyes, but he could see her trying to hide her smile. “Drama queen,” she muttered, shaking her head. Not bothering to respond to the rude comment, he pulled the pillow out from underneath him and threw it at her. Gwyn’s eyes widened as it hit her smack in the face, mouth dropping in shock, and he knew immediately he was going to pay for it. That didn’t stop him from grinning at her.

“Come on berdera, better get to reading,” he winked at her, knowing she would see red.

“Okay shadowsinger,” She drawled, “Although,” her silence intentional, “I wouldn’t want you trying to pick a fight you couldn’t win.” The innocence in her tone a stark contrast to the vengeance in her teal eyes.

“Is that a threat, priestess.”

“Oh you’re big boy, I think you can figure it out.” Her smirk was wicked as she picked up the book and began to read. Shit, he wanted to kiss her even more now. Pathetic he was absolutely pathetic. Realizing it was too late to respond, Azriel picked up his own book and began to read. Alright, he thought, point Berdara.

They continued to read, tearing through the pages, a silent challenge in the air. Who would finish first? Every so often, Azriel looked up to see Gwyn immersed in her reading, her determination almost enough to make him forget he was a sitting target, almost. Her legs moved from his lap, and immediately he felt like he was missing something, their weight and warmth gone. Her gaze caught his, and they stayed in silence for a moment, taking each other in.

Finally, Gwyn broke “What?” She tilted her head, looking at him curiously. Point az.

“You’re cute when you read” Azriel wished he could say he didn’t enjoy the blush that flooded Gwyn’s cheeks but he absolutely delighted in it. Point az.

“Flattery will get you nowhere.” Her nose scrunching.

“Oh, I disagree, it’s worked so far.”

“yeah,” Gwyn replied with an amused look. “On who.”

“Well, we both know you’re in love with me so I would assume you.” Fuck, why did he say that? Azriel’s heart was a drum in his chest, his palms began to sweat. This damn girl, 500 years, and this is the girl that has him tripping over his words. It felt like minutes before she answered again even if it had only been seconds.

“Yes, I’m just so damn in love with you.” He could hear the sarcasm dripping in her voice, he could see the way she rolled her eyes, smiling, and yet he couldn’t help the way his breath hitched, or the heat he felt on his neck. “You know I love researching long-lost magical swords as much as the next person,” She put her book down and stretched her arms out behind her. “But I’m getting kind of tire-.” A yawn cut Gwyn off proving her point.

“Well we can’t have that,” He stood up, an idea taking root. He held out a hand to her. With a curious look, she slipped her hand into his, an electric shock ran through them where skin met skin. He shivered, the moment felt so much more intimate than it should have been, an easiness between them. Yet Azriel felt only heat as their gazes met. Gwyn bit her lip.

“Are we going somewhere,” She whispered, not daring to look away.

“I always find that a little adventure is a perfect way to wake yourself up,” forcing himself to keep his voice steady. Their hands still locked together. Gwyn took a step closer, so they were almost touching. He swallowed as her eyes burned into his own. Slowly, ever so slowly he brought his hand to her cheek, and with a whisper of a touch, he tilted her head and brushed away a small piece of dirt. She shuddered and leaned in. Both of their breathing heavy, he should move, this was wrong. But then why did it feel so right? His thoughts vanished, as her eyes lowered to his lips. A quick glance, there and then gone. Everything else forgotten except the feel of her.

At that moment a small thud caused both of them to flinch. Gwyn looked away and Az followed her gaze to the book that had fallen. He dropped his hand and immediately wished he hadn’t. With the noise came a wave washing over them, cooling the heat. Good, he thought, good now he can’t do something he would regret. Azriel just wished he believed himself. Gwyn turned back to him, but her eyes would not meet his. Dammit, he fucking made her uncomfortable. Shit shit shit. His shadows began to whisper, don’t freak out just talk to her. Just talk to her, just talk to her. He could do that, just talk to her. He plastered a teasing grin to his face, “well If I know Gwyneth Berdera, and I do, she is not one to pass up an adventure so, shall we?”

She gave him an awkward smile. He could see the relief in the way her features relaxed, but from what, he wasn’t exactly sure. She took a breath, regaining her composure. “Oh you know I love a good time, but I tend to like to know where I’m going.” Thank the cauldron, Azriel thought, right back into their banter. He didn’t think he could live with himself if she never spoke to him again, and the thought was terrifying.

“It’s a surprise.” Her brows rose as if to say really? “Do you trust me?” the words were out before he realized what he was saying, he wished he could take them back. He desperately needed to know the answer. And shit he still wanted to kiss her.

Without hesitation, Gwyn said “Yes,” Something broke in Azriel, and something else, without meaning to, began to mend.

“Good, then trust that you will love it.”

Gwyn thought it over before deciding “well it must be better than reading about ancient swords.”

“Oh, it will be.” He started to walk towards the door and she followed him, Azriel made sure to keep at least a foot away, but he couldn’t shake the pull, begging him to get closer. Once they were outside, he turned to her and held out his arms.

“So this is a flying trip?”

“I mean unless you would like to winnow, but this is typically my way of transportation.” She rolled her eyes at him but didn’t respond as she wrapped her hands around his neck and he picked her up. So together they flew into the night.

About half an hour later they had reached their destination. Outside of Velaris, but still within the night court, Azriel had brought them to one of the tallest towers he’d ever seen. It was kind of in the middle of nowhere, hidden by lush greenery, framed by mountains and lakes. He had found it a few centuries ago and never shared the information with any of his friends. He loved them dearly, but this always felt like a spot he could go if he needed to leave, to be alone. It also helped that the view was beautiful. But he was looking at Gwyn and saw the exact moment she realized where they were, her eyes lit up, and he could see the challenge in her grasp, one she couldn’t stop until she bested it. “Is this-” Her voice could barely contain her excitement and he loved that he could give her that. He knew in his gut there was no limit to what he would do to make her smile.

“It is,” he confirmed. The library was a myth, a legend said to rival the ones in the day court. Of course, it was more ruins now, but still a sight to behold. “And while I know that you are freaking out, and I am happy to take you back so you can explore the inside, we are here for the roof.” Gwyn gave him a questioning glance but he just winked and shot up the length of the tower to the top. She gave a yelp of surprise, and then a cry of excitement.

Azriel set them down on the roof and looked around. Every time he came back, the memory could not ever compare to the real thing. But he was watching Gwyn as she took it all in. The beauty of it rivaled only by the female in front of him. The land was vast. “Look up,” he said softly, and then she saw the true view. Somehow the stars seemed to hang lower in the sky, they were bigger and brighter. The moon, so close it appeared as if you could reach out to touch it. Colors of purple, blue, and green swirling in an array that stole the breath with no intention of ever giving it back. Azriel didn’t know why you could only see it from the tower but he didn’t care. Gwyn took everything in with a greedy desire like it would disappear if she didn’t. The irony was not lost on him, she looked at the open world the way he knew he looked at her.

Gwyn’s metallic hair lit up against the moon as if it was on fire. “It’s beautiful” Yeah she was. “No, that does not nearly begin to describe it,” she tried to find the words and he waited patiently. “There is this entire world that I have not seen, that I have not experienced. And every little taste I get of it makes me greedy for more, and I am terrified,” she paused, “I am terrified that my past and my own fear will prevent me from seeing everything. I want it all but I do not know if I am brave enough to take the next step”

They stood side by side, both clutching the railing. He gently grabbed her hand and stroked his thumb over their shared tattoo before he spoke.”no challenge has ever been too great for you, because where others give up Gwyneth Berdera, with her stubborn determination has never known when stop.” and that’s what I love about you, he wanted to add, but instead he said “And whether it be tomorrow, a few months, or centuries when you are ready, I will make sure you experience every joy this world has to offer.”

They stood in silence for a couple of moments before she gave him a small smile. “Az?”

“Yeah?”

“Why did you bring me here?” why did he bring her here? You know why his shadows answered.

“Because,” He took a deep breath, “Because this place has always been a sanctuary for me, the only place I could go where my head would quiet, where the voices would stop for not even they could mar the beauty of this place.” He swallowed. “I was in love, or what I thought was love, with a female for 500 years, and not even she gave me the ease that being here provided. Not once did I wish to share this place with anyone, the one thing that was mine and only mine.” He turned to Gwyn, “that is until I met you and I didn’t understand it, why being near you made me feel more peace then I have ever felt in 5 centuries. Why the cold icy rage that has always been there only began to thaw in your presence.” He let out a little laugh, “and because there is nothing I wouldn’t do to see you smile.” Gwyn flashed him her broad smile. “That’s the one.” He murmured.

She took a step closer, bridging the gap between them. The view forgotten, there was only Gwyn and Azriel, two souls finding each other in the midst of darkness. He took a step too, meeting her halfway, so close he could feel her breath. Gwyn looked up at him, her gaze full of hope and something else he couldn’t detect. They took each other in, devouring the sight of one another. One moment, one step could change everything.

Moments passed, their breathing heavy before Gwyn said “Az?”

“Yeah?”

“Why won’t you kiss me?”

“Because,” he whispered, “I can’t bear the thought of losing you-” and the look she gave him as if he was the dumbest person in the world.

“Azriel?”

“Yeah?”

“Shut up,” and she took that final step, braved the distance, and pulled his face towards her. Their lips met in a blaze, a kiss that should have been soft and sweet, instead an explosion of heat and passion. Fireworks formed everywhere they touched, her hands lost in his hair, and his own gripped around her waist. She was everything he dreamed and more, a kiss unlike one he’s ever known. Azriel softly bit her lip and the sound she made was enough to make him want to rip apart the world to hear it again. Together, they were unbreakable, a rightness in the air that could not be imagined. Her lips claimed his, with a ferocity of need. Electricity thundered beneath his skin, her kiss igniting something in him he never knew was there. She was his, and he was hers. Mine.

Gwyn finally took a step back, “wow” she whispered and he knew she felt it too. Her skin was flush with a subtle glow and the realization hit him. The thought engraved itself in his brain and heart and soul, and he never knew how he hadn’t seen it before. Mate.

may or may not be continued where gwyn gets revenge

[nocluewhatsupg]

Slashers’ reactions to you living in their vents

one of the mods got a very rare disease don’t google it you won’t get answers but if he doesn’t see some fresh slasher tiddie in the upcoming collector film he’s gonna fucking die

Michael Myers

Crouched near the cold vent opening, you peer up at the tall man. Michael paused the violent daydreaming he was doing to tilt his head slightly down, and stare right back at you. This continues for a good while, as the sunlit common room bustled with life around the two of you.

He’s chill about it. Probably because he simply believed Loomis got his medication confused and he was tripping balls or something. Had quietly entertained the idea of escaping through your impressive vents, but he’d never fit. It was much funner to smash heads into doors than stealthing around anyway.

Pins a blanket over the vent opening in his cell just in case. Hypocrite.

Since he couldn’t get to you, and snap you in half, he begrudgingly allowed you to exist in his presence. You found him such a curious inmate, and since he hadn’t tried to tear your spine from your body, you hung around. Any conversation you had was one sided, and he didn’t play along with your suggestion of “blink twice for yes, three times for no”. He accepted any gifts you’d give him, especially candy your nimble hands took from the cafeteria. They were gifts, even if he’d violently kick your vent until you handed them over.

Michael would simply wait until your excitement died down and you realize he wasn’t anything more interesting than a cardboard box. Nothing you said got a reaction out of him, no matter how hard you tried. Even when you dramatically proclaimed your love to him through his cell’s vent, on a beautiful night, he did nothing but pin a blanket over the opening and returned to sleeping with gentle moonlight pouring over him.

When he stages his escape, you stayed in your vents, and you were forced to retreat deep inside the building as he tore open the cover and stuck his arm inside. Looks like all the time you’d spent together never mattered to him, and he didn’t even bother to ensure your death. You’d be waiting for him when he came back, and you finally remembered how cold the damn vents really were.

Jason Voorhees

He is baffled you found a vent in the middle of the woods in the first place.

It was discarded, fallen from a construction van that had driven through the area, and wasn’t missed. From there, nature took its course, short brown mushrooms and elegant green moss covering the artificial silver. Insects burrowed underneath, and lizards enjoyed both the heat and the shade it provided.

Jason doesn’t break a sweat dislodging the vent (and you) from the ground and hoisting it high above his head. The sharp scent of fresh dirt was the last thing you smelled before he violently chucked you directly into the lake <3.

Brahms Heelshire

He got a new nanny, stared at their attractive appearance for one glorious day, then watched them vanish overnight.

With panic, he tore the house upside down searching for them, calling with every voice he could produce, but he found no one but rats.

Dust had clawed at your throat when you stepped into the hollow walls. It became apparent fast someone lived in them, newspaper clippings and disturbing little notes scattered throughout the passages. Through the carved out eyes of paintings hung on the wall, you followed a tall, masked man around the mansion. World’s most bizzare tour.

The longer you watched, the more your terrified expression melted to a mild understanding. The child’s calls drew for you a perfect picture; he was lonely. He must’ve stared from these very walls at other folks for years, dreaming of being out there with them, laughing and dancing. He was outcasted, and what could’ve been an extravagant, luxurious life became one of solitary and strain. Something unjustly tore that life from him, and he was forced to stomach the repercussions alone.

On the other hand, his brown hair was long and greasy. His clothes had holes. He was a visibly grown man making a child’s voice. What the fuck are you doing get out of there he’s going to fucking kill you and if he gains popularity he’s going to be turned into an even shittier bootleg Annabell movie.

Out of sheer luck, you managed to live along side him. He too walks in the walls as you do, but you were careful to keep yourself away from him. The way you got away with what you did was probably because he wasn’t actively looking for you, as even the smallest effort would lead him to spot you. You ate as he did, slept as he did, went through all sorts of noise producing actions as he did. You noticed how he lived, and mimicked it.

Of course, you didn’t really want to live like this. It was bizzare, but you felt as if you’d dug yourself into a hole too deep. If you showed yourself, you feared the worst. Or maybe you enjoyed this strange lifestyle, to each their own.

When Malcom came with supplies, he didn’t seem to mind the empty house. He lingered in the mansion occasionally, until the burn of both your gaze and Brahms’ gaze made him leave with the hairs on his neck standing up. You knew Brahms watched from the opposite wall that you were in, as you knew where the holes were, and you could occasionally see a flash of his white mask.

Brahms left the walls occasionally, and you eventually realised he followed a schedule, each step posted on the insides of the walls. His excursions were very brief, only when he had to make something happen outside, like eating or setting music. Then he retreated to the walls.

The more you watched, the more hesitant you became to outing yourself to him. You learned a lot about him, and the top thing that you noticed was that he was a grade A nutcase. Everything he did, even the simple things, were alien to a normal person’s train of thought. So you watched, and waited, gathering information to produce the best possible answer. Embrace the odd life, confront him, or quietly run?

As he often did, Brahms ate the last of the food during breakfast. He had no reason to spare, but you knew he ate more that usual on these days. It would take him a while to exit the kitchen, as you knew he liked to loiter and watch the rain splatter on the kitchen windows. This, along with the fact that Malcom would be arrving around noon, made today the best possible day to put your plan into action. You knew the kitchen door was unlocked, and the garden had a thick maze you could hide in. Not even once did it cross your mind how odd it was that you knew so much from watching a man, and if you had thought of that, you’d worry for your sanity.

Instead of the trap door Brahms took, which was settled on the ceiling of the kitchen, you took a slightly longer route. Your route, through a lose piece of wall in the living room, allowed for good stealth. As you reached your exit, you anxiously wondered how he’d react. You wondered if it would be odd that you’d stayed for so long. The lavish living room had the lingering smell of a put out fire, and the tap of raindrops masked your footsteps as you tiptoed to the kitchen.

Old habits died hard, and you paused at the arched opening leading to the kitchen, peeking your head out to watch him. It was then, as Brahms dug through a cabnet, that you realised that one thing slipped by your infinite wisdom. You hadn’t thought of the best way to confront him. What to say, where to be, what to do. You fought to settle your nervous breath from growing in volume, gripped the wooden pillar you hid behind, and gave a quick prayer.

He didn’t notice you step out into the opening, as your hands twisted your shirt anxiously. It was only when you set your foot on a loose floorboard, and the creak echoed loud, did he snap his head up. It was difficult to tell if he recognized you through the dust that settled on your face, and you had no idea what emotion was painted on his. Brahms stood quiet as you decided the best thing to do was introduce yourself, and shakily, you did.

After the shock of learning of your existance settled, he did something all your watching could never have prepared you for. He skipped right over why, or how you were living here all these months. What brought you to the Heelshire mansion bored him. No, he instead scolded you. He snapped at how irresponsible you were, hiding from him, neglecting your duty.

Then he did something you predicted. He grew angry. Brahms slammed his fist on the table, and shouted for your explanation. He mocked you as you stumbled for an answer. When what you did say didn’t satisfy him, he pulled a knife from the fat block sitting on the counter. Nothing you could’ve said would’ve worked for him, and even if something did, he would pretend that it didn’t.

It was a little past mid day, a frightened glance to the clock told you. He slept in, and so did you. The clock wasn’t your priority at the moment, as Brahms didn’t care for the fear in your eyes and decided to advance. With adrenaline making your heart go twice as fast, and the thought of your blood gushing on the tiled floor making your mind go blank, the first words that came from your mouth you didn’t even think through.

Giving him a taste of his own medicine, you scolded him right back. It was past noon, and the schedule stated that he had things to do that he neglected. To your amazement, he froze, and you drew more strength into your words. There were things that still had to be done, how dare he neglect that too. You kept your head as high as you could, turning your terrified expression into a disappointed glare, and he stopped. To your command, he dropped the knife, and it clattered to the floor. When you told him to, he shuffled back around and continued eating, occasionally glancing over his shoulder. If he had a tail, it’d be curled weakly between his legs.

You felt like you were going to pass out. You thanked whatever higher being you believed in for that stroke of intelligence. Of course, Brahms didn’t offer you any of his meal, but you didn’t care. You had him under control, at least for now. Patiently, you waited for him to finish, keeping your guard and your confidence way high. The schedule would be followed, and you’d see just what you could get away with. This bizzare predicament could actually work out in your favor.

Billy Lenz

Hey, he thought of doing it first! Dirty copycat. What are you going to do now, get a buddy and start calling people and playing jeopardy with them before you murder them?? Turn this serious and deep genre of film into meta satire???

He’s as surprised as you to see you crawling around in the attic. You might even get a chance to explain yourself before he murders you.

You better start explaining, especially since he’d seen you downstairs, chatting with the other members of the house naturally.

With the charm that got you into that house in the first place, you carefully explain how you didn’t really technically live in the house. How you never technically joined the college, and never technically applied to be part of the house.

Okay, neat. So basically what he’s doing, minus the socialization. Wow. Aren’t you so creative. When he began to give you a strange look, you gave him a quirky little salute, and evacuated the attic as fast as you could.

He lingered in your mind as you ate dinner that didn’t belong to you, visible fear in your expression. You stared at the cracks in the ceiling, and swore you could see the whites of his eyes gleaming in the black darkness. It horrified you, how he was you, but incredibly mentally unstable.

To prove how upset he was at your existence, he strangled your roommate that night, as they slept only feet away from you. You awoke to a cold, clammy corpse, that you stared at in horror.

With guilt fresh on your expression, you abandoned the body quietly. You pried the window in the room open, then threw the pillows and blankets from your bed to mimic a fight. When another housemate discovered the corpse, their alarmed shouts warned you to seek refuge in the attic. It was there that you mulled over the pickle you’d found yourself in, an irrational, impulsive decision leaving your future grim.

Billy wasn’t content with finding you in the attic again. Between fighting his clawing hands, you desperately tried to convey how your lives are now entwined, whether he likes it or not. If you were caught, you explained through gritted teeth, you’d bring him down with you. Of course, he could simply kill you and dodge the more difficult option, so you’d better keep talking sweet if you wanted to live. He had nothing to gain from befriending you, but you had everything to lose.

In the end, you had to give up more than you were comfortable giving a psychotic, attic dwelling stranger. You promised yourself you’d get worse in jail. Maybe he didn’t care about what you feverishly promised. Maybe he just wanted you out of his face, and you probably guessed right, as the second you stopped talking he slid down the opening of the wall and desended to watch the house’s residents flutter with panic.

To your bewildered surprise, it worked. You were classified as a missing victim, and no one ever came to the dusty attic. The payment for this shakey freedom was anything but nice. Often he’d push you from the attic, forcing you to scale down the exterior brick wall with cold wind blowing on your back. There was little warning, and you never knew how long you had to wait in the snow while he did whatever he did. Sometimes he’d scream at you until you left to procure an item for him; usually food. How you got it, he didn’t care, you wouldn’t be allowed back in without it. He saw quickly he could make you do whatever he wanted, and he shamelessly took advantage of that. It almost seemed like your life was his game, which at this point, it might as well be.

Billy rarely slept soundly for long, awakening after two or three hours of rest with a panicked scream. Then, like nothing ever happened, he’d casually go to do something else. He slid noisily down the wall to observe everyone else sleeping. He tore into one of the boxes that surrounded the both of you and explored its contents. On the worst occasions, he’d come bother you, shaking you awake for no good reason. You never snapped at him, because this was better than jail...Right?

Then he began to kill the other residents, returning in the morning with blood splattered on his clothes. He went put of his way to touch you, mumbling the late resident’s name as he painted you red. The first few times made you gag. By the time careful surveillance was set on the house, you didn’t care anymore. You slept during the day, to stay wide awake at night incase he got caught and you needed to bolt. Billy returned from his excursions in the morning as well, and would crawl in your already warm mattress and mumble until he passed out.

When there was no one left in the house, you thought fast. You coaxed him from the attic. Hand in hand, you led him through the shadowy forest, and to the attic of a new, unexpecting house. He smiled at you that day, a real, genuine smile not clouded by madness. The cycle began again, as he slid down the walls and carved new peeping holes. You were so numb. Your blood was black with guilt. You watched the new residents going about their business through the attic’s window, and you found your stomach so twisted you couldn’t eat. The only breath of fresh air you got was daydreaming, of what your life could’ve been if you’d just chosen any other house so long ago.

The oddest thing occured in the new house. He, for once, comforted you. You felt as if you looked into a mirror, as he even said the same things that you’d say to him. But he couldn’t shake the coldness in your core, and with a frostbitten body you were forced to assure him you were fine. Billy shrugged, ate the food you didn’t, and slid back down the walls. Through the dark window, where a small candle allowed you to see your distraught appearance, you knew this would be your life. You’d drag him from house to house, untill he’d killed everyone in the world, and the last person for him to kill was the only one that really deserved it.

Asa Emory

He notices you missing from the collection fast. Escapes weren’t uncommon, but he wasn’t too bothered by it.

He expected to see your mangled, shredded corpse cooling on one of his highly advanced traps. There was nothing to worry about.

When you didn’t show up gutted and gored within a few days, he began to worry. The though of your bewildered face appearing before the police, a wide, fearful expression before reporters made him nervous. If you’d ran out of hell, you’d know how to run back in.

The news interview that would shock the generation never came, and the ouchie he got on his ego healed. That left the obvious final option that you had, or eventually would, expire and waste away alone in a dark corner. That filled him with a good feeling, that you’d suffer a cold death for running from him.

So when he was met with your wild, smirking face in a vent, he felt some sort of way. Mostly anger. You’d not only killed his ego, but spat on it too.

You’d scrambled away before he could grab your boney ankle and strangle you, leaving him to smash his bathroom mirror in rage.

Unfortunately, Asa worked as an exterminator, and you were nothing more than another pest. He wondered if you too would still scramble if he cut your head off. Murder was off the menu that night, and he let you gloat your near death experience for only one final time.

The next day, he patiently set bait. An empty, blood splattered room would do. In the middle sat an empty trunk, and an unsupervised meal. It seemed as if someone lived there, and had been pulled away from a mouth watering dish. Or, a very obvious trap.

If your hunger got the best of you, you slid through the rather snug vent along the floor, quietly moving the grate from its place. A click echoed, just barely loud enough to be heard over the dogs howling.

He watched your heart drop. He watched it shatter as you turned to your sneakly little vent, and find that it was locked shut. A thick metal plate had slid from the wall and trapped you. Not too far after the realization settled frigid in your stomach, did a soft hiss of escaping wind begin to grow.

The exterminator’s poison was clear, but it was not painless. Whether you cried and begged, or you silently glared in defeat, he wouldn’t let you out. You accept the hotel’s damp, rotten air, or you choke on it.

[fair-fae]

FFxivWrite Entry #13: Oneirophrenia

FFxivWrite 2021 Prompt #13: Oneirophrenia The Void was an endless, empty abyss of darkness, bereft of any aether and any life beyond the warped creatures aimlessly skittering around the ravaged ruins of a civilization that once was. The fearsome beasts of the thirteenth shard were seldom bothered to waste any precious energy fighting among themselves, but one never knew when a Voidsent might find itself starved and deranged enough to attack its kin for the promise of even the smallest spark of aether. The weak did not survive. Fortunately, Shadiyah could hold her own against most foes.

She had never particularly resented her time spent in the Void before. What difference did it make to be wasting away in misery in the Void or upon any other shard? The only downsides were the gnawing hunger and the absolute boredom, but compared to having to deal with people and all their pretenses and all the noise and trouble they brought, was that really so bad? The Voidsent made better neighbors, all things considered.

But things were different now. Now she had a reason to be upon the Source and not trapped in this hellish wasteland. Every moment spent stuck in the Void was another fleeting moment or more lost on the Source, the clock ticking against her. She had no way of knowing how time was flowing between the two shards, much as she had no exit until a rift might appear and she would find herself fighting against all the other ravenous monsters of the Void vying to escape. And so, like them, she wandered directionlessly, stumbling over the wreckage. She couldn’t remember the last ray of light she’d seen, or more importantly, the last morsel of aether she’d consumed. It was a ravenous hunger that consumed every part of her, mind and body, until she struggled to think of anything else. Starved and alone in the empty hellscape of blackness, it was difficult to keep a grip on reality. How many Voidsent had she fended off? How far had she roamed, searching for a glimpse of light? She had no idea how much time had passed since her arrival. She wondered how much more she must endure before she might find a way out. It was then she saw something in the nothingness that made her stop in her tracks, a familiar silhouette in the nothingness, tall and dark, black hair cascading to his shoulder, violet eyes cutting through the shadows. “Master,” she gasped, sinking down to her knees upon the dirt. He strode toward her, bending down to grasp her chin in his hand as the Miqo’te peered up at him. “So you were pathetic enough not only to be struck down, but to get yourself trapped here. Then again, I suppose it is where you belong,” came the familiar voice, coloring the words all the more cruel. She winced, smacking his hand away from her face. “No! I belong with you!” “With me? What makes you think that I want you by my side? That you deserve to be there?” he asked, arching one eyebrow as he gazed down at her. “Did you think I want you back? That I came here to rescue you?” “But… but I thought--” she stammered, feline ears drooping. “Thought what? That you were something more to me than a tool to further my ends? More than a lab experiment I found some, mm… extra uses for?” “Yes!” Shade growled, pushing herself to her feet. “You know that I am more than that!” “Yes, perhaps you’re right. A leech on my aether. A thorn in my side. A tax on my time and patience. Does that sound better?” he asked, glowering down at her. “Master!” she hissed, reaching forward to grasp his sleeve, but he shook her off and knocked her away back onto the dirt. “You believe I am in love with you because I fucked you? Haven’t you learned by now? Did you really think it would be different this time? That I wouldn’t get bored of you just like all the others?” he began to pace a circle around the woman as he interrogated her. “You prrromised!” she snarled. “This is not real! You are not real!” “I am as real as can be, my dearheart. Did you truly believe you could keep my attention?” his deep voice carried a mocking note of pity. “Who could ever care for you? You are nothing.” “Stop it! Go away!” her ears folded, palms pressing over them, flattening them to her skull. “You don’t belong in my world. You don’t belong anywhere,” his words somehow rang clear despite her attempts to muffle them, his face void of any emotion save for the disgust and disdain he felt for her. “We would all be better off if you ceased to exist, don’t you think so, my dearest?” Shadiyah squeezed her eyes shut, shaking her head, anything to block him out. “You are not him! You are not real! Leave me!” She gave up her vain efforts to silence his words, her hands slipping down instead to wrap her arms around herself, fingers digging into her shoulders, tearing the skin. “There is nothing I have wanted more, my Mistress.” When her eyes snapped open, there was no trace of the man left behind, and she scrambled to where he had once stood, grabbing only a handful of sand. “Melifce… do not leave me here,” her whimpering plea went unheard.

@shadiyah-ffxiv, @of-darkness-and-dreams​

[merryfortune]

Fluttered like a panicked bird

Written for the 100ships Challenge on Dreamwidth

Prompt #49 Electric

Ship: Blackbirdshipping | Crow/Shun

Fandom: Yu-Gi-Oh! Arc V

Word Count: 2,833

Rating: M

Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Violence (?)

Tags: Post Canon, Canon Divergent, Whump, Hurt/Comfort, PTSD, Night Terrors, Non-Consensual Body Modification, Facial Trauma, Swearing, Police Brutality

   Electricity crackled in front of Shun. White-hot and jolting. 

   He was held down against a flat board tilted up so that the device that was staring him down, crackling at its nozzle with all that menacing electricity, could get a good look at him. It was all he could see in the dim. The only source of light. Everything else was murky and shadowy; Shun could see the outline of the prison guard who had brought him into this torture closet but couldn’t see any distinct features like his ugly mug.

   Shun struggled against the flat board. His ankles and wrists were pinned down by iron bands and bolts. He grit his teeth.

   “What is this place?” Shun snarled. “What’re you going to do to me?” His building fury was just as white-hot as the electricity that emanated off that device; it looked like a gun, it looked like a security camera; it looked like nothing Shun had ever seen in his home of Heartland.

   The Security Sector laughed, “Don’t play ignorant, Commons scum, you know what this old girl does.” He patted the side of the device’s chassis, towards the back of it where it was suspended by some kind of pole, Shun assumed. Definitely where it was safe to touch, at the very least.

   “I’m not fucking from Commons!” Shun growled. 

   He didn’t even know where or what Commons was. He was abandoned by that prick Akaba Reiji and left to fend for himself in the middle of yet another world ruled by card games but they played a style that Shun could never have dreamed of: on the back of motorcycles, of all things, and with a summoning style that was tubular and tumultuous, just like hitting the pedals on a motorcycle, he supposed.

   And it didn’t take long for trouble to find Shun - and the others - when they were split up, abandoned, whatever went wrong when one minute they were Reiji’s glorious team of Lancers and the next… they were this. Commons scum. Whatever that meant. Shun hardly cared. He was XYZ scum through and through; damn proud of it. He’d spat in the face of that insult time and time again and he would do the same here if he knew what here meant.

   All Shun knew was that here meant trouble and he was really good at finding trouble. Or having trouble find him. Didn’t matter either way. What dirt was dished out to him, he flung back and then some. He’d always been the type to choose fight over flight. Even if it got him arrested and hauled out like any other thug with the same lack of impulse control.

   The prison system here was brutal. Cops hated everyone and everyone hated the cops as well as each other. It was truly a dog eat dog world inside this concrete confinement. Even worse in solitary. Shun had gotten thrown there twice before the others had arrived by suppressive serendipity. And in here was even worse.

   Shun kept struggling, “I’m serious, I’m not from Commons, I’m from a place called Heartland-”

   “Yeah, yeah, whatever.” the Security Sector scolded him, Shun could practically hear him roll his eyes in disbelief.

   “I’m serious!” Shun yelled. “I’m a proud user of XYZ summoning from the city of Heartland!”

   “Aw man, you’re real feisty, huh.” the Security Sector mocked him. “Let’s give you something real good, since you reckon you're such a free bird.” 

   He began to do something with the machine that had been hovering. Something that Shun, dramatically, did not like since it made the device sputter and crackle some more. Internal changes were undoubtedly taking place. 

   Shun grit his teeth. There was nothing he could possibly say to convince this man in front of him that he was not of this world. At least he wasn’t a member of the Obelisk Force, though, Shun gravely thought. The members of the Obelisk Force were fully faceless and they hunted through for fun and thoroughly. They thought they were noble. At least these monsters knew they were monsters and saw such an equitable force in the very eyes of the folk, the innocent and the guilty, they abused. It was an odd comfort but a comfort that Shun decided to hold on, nonetheless. 

   Finally, after such cruel teasing, the Security Sector let loose that machine on Shun and he screamed. He thrashed as hard as he could against that board he was pinned to like a dead bird prepared for taxidermy. The device drilled into him, like a laser, the skin cauterised in an instant but it left more than a print in its wake. The electricity was ferocious and yet utterly precise as it left a unique brand upon the side of Shun’s face.

   He screamed and he screamed, from the bottom of his lungs until he passed out. The Security Sector cooing that this wild animal had finally shut up long enough to stay still enough for the Criminal Mark Gun to work.

   When Shun woke up, his heart hammered as he ripped himself upwards. Again, fight was his perpetual instinct over flight or freezing. He was all nerves, ironically electric like a live wire. In his room, it was dark but it wasn’t hard. It was soft. He was on the outside. He wasn’t stuck in that Synchro Dimension anymore; it didn’t exist anymore, nor did the XYZ Dimension or the Fusion Dimension. They had all merged into one again.

   The recollection sickened him to his stomach with homesickness. Things could never be the way they were before yet he had to carry those memories: both good and bad. That was his burden to bear as he made sense of what pieces had remained in the return to whole from that split. 

   Shun placed his hand - it trembled - on the left side of his face. It was still there. Of course, it was still there. There weren’t many ways of getting that searing tattoo lifted and removed. The scars would still remain, no matter how faint.

   Shun had never considered himself a vain person as a face was a face. Ideally one of a kind but… he knew deeply now of how untrue uniqueness was. With that abomination of a Mark on him, at least was truly an individual. A number in a system they didn’t - couldn’t - use anymore; tracked down to a place he never lived and in a sense, somewhere else that may as well have never existed at all given the shambled ruins. 

   Even though that Mark was on his face, out of sight on the curve of his cheek, Shun had memorised its design all the same as he knew the colour of his eyes or the shape of his nose. It was situated in the middle of his face; had its flicked ends both at the lower quarter of his cheek and part way up on his temple. It was feathered and streaky and part of it extended outwards, under his eye and curled. Or maybe hooked was a more apt description, either like the connecting bone of a wing or like the beak of a raptor. He had fluttered like a panicked bird in a cage inside of that containment room, where people were reduced to stigma and number, and for it, he got mocked in a way he considered suitably avian considering his deck.

   Shun forced himself to get up. Checking the time on the clock on his bedside table, it wasn’t that early even if it still seemed pitch black outside. He was thirsty so he figured he would get a drink. That felt more productive to him than merely dwelling on the past in darkness, just letting all those feelings screw up and stew inside of him.

   He hobbled out of the guest room that Crow and Shinji had holed him up in. He tried not to be too loud but he felt klutzy after his nightmare. Groggy. At least he didn’t drop the glass, murky with cheap soap, that he used and filled with unfiltered tap water.

   Taking a sip, Shun realised that he really missed the taste of filtered water. He sat down in the kitchen table, lukewarm glass still in hand and just stared at all the damage this table had taken over the years. He studied all the dents and chips taken out of it and forced himself to think about over anything else.

   Until the light turned on.

   Shun flinched. He hadn’t been expecting that and he turned his head to see over his shoulder. In his day clothes - surprisingly - Crow sauntered over. He sat down on one of the other rickety chairs adjacent to Shun and propped his head up whilst Shun kept his down.

   “Looks like I’m not the only one up with the morning choir today.” Crow quipped.

   Shun stayed quiet. He couldn’t even hear the sound of birds. Just the bittersweet silence of a tightly-knit household that hadn’t woken up yet. A household now, more than ever, he felt like he was intruding on.

   “You okay?” Crow asked in a quieter voice than before.

   “No.” Shun found himself able to admit, the word slipping past his lips thoughtlessly.

   “You wanna talk about it?” Crow asked. “I’ve got deliveries but I’ve got time to hear a tale or two. I haven’t even had breakfast yet. Have you? Maybe we could have some toast together.”

   “That sounds fine.” Shun murmured.

   Crow got up and he put some sliced bread in the toaster that never popped quite in tune regardless of how the timer was set. He also got out some butter in preparation. There wasn’t much else to be had but Shun didn’t mind. Once this meagre preparation was done, Crow sat down again, keeping an eye on the toaster, just in case it started smoking.

   Shun took a breath, he wasn’t ready to talk about his problems. Not openly at least but he wondered if he could get Crow to open up about his. Or maybe they weren’t problems to him at all given how he was a Synchro native.

   “Do your Marks ever bother you?” Shun asked.

   “Like… do I ever get hit with waves of remembering how painful getting these little bastards are?” Crow clarified.

   “Er, yeah…” Shun shyly replied.

   “Yeah, all the time but I’ve learned to live with it.” Crow shrugged. “Like, these buggers have always been a part of my world. I wear mine as badges of pride, as far as I care, I’ve never done a crime in my life: it was all survival, or for the sake of someone else.”

   “That’s very noble of you.” Shun praised him, thinking of all the Robin Hood stories that Crow had told him before, about the other kids he had helped out and older folk, too. He was a real bleeding heart but that’s what Shun liked a lot about Crow. His kindness and how tough and gritty it was.

   “I struggle to get in your shoes about these things, you know.” Crow mused, continuing, not necessarily disavowing the compliment but not acknowledging it outright because it made him bashful, Shun could tell in the glint of his grey eyes. “I saw ‘em all the time, they were normal to me. I knew their purpose, I knew what you had to do to piss someone in Security off enough to get you one. All that. But I imagine, for an outsider, being thrust into that regimen, no information, barely a clue of where you are at all… it’d be a whole lot harder to forget.”

   “Yeah.” Shun agreed.

   And the toast popped unceremoniously and they both became all too aware of the smell of burnt toast. It almost made Shun laugh and watching Crow clamour for their breakfast did, even if it sounded like a cough or a tickle in his throat. He watched as Crow pulled out the slices of toast from inside the machine, trying not to burn his fingertips and failing, all whilst smearing what butter he could on them from the tub. The hospitality was more than just appreciated.

   Shun took the toast that he was given and took a bite out of it. Burnt and buttery on cheap, white bread, it was weirdly one of the better breakfasts that he had in a while. Maybe it was because Crow was keeping him company. Crow, meanwhile, perched up on the table next to Shun, taking a few, mindless bites of his own toast too.

   “It hurts more than usual today. My Mark.” Shun rambled.

   “I’m sorry to hear that then.” Crow said.

   “I dreamt of when it happened.” Shun cracked a wry smile there. “My brain has too much variety of what to torment me with, clearly. But I appreciate when it picks out something less awful than other things but still.”

   “The voltage of the gun is a bitch.” Crow finished his thought for him.

   Shun let out another puff of his dry, wispy laughter, “Too true.” He spoke on the edge of his mouth, right in the crook of it.

   Crow smiled, crumbs on his lips. He reached out and he patted Shun’s shoulder. Shun didn’t mind, even when Crow gave him something of a rambunctious rub.

   “If you ever need to talk, I promise, I’m here for you.” Crow said. 

   “Thanks.” Shun said.

   “And if you ever need something to do to get your mind off things, there’s plenty of work to be done.” Crow added. His smile turned sympathetic. “But right now, my suggestion is, try and get some more sleep. You look a wreck.”

   “Thanks.” Shun grunted, unamused.

   Crow took his hand off Shun’s shoulder but not off him completely, he thumbed over the yellow mark that was on Shun’s face and Shun winced.

   “And if you ever decide you wanna be rid of this thing, I’m sure I know someone or can track down someone who’ll do it real nice.” Crow said as he poked and prodded Shun’s Mark as lovingly as a rough and tumble guy like him could.

   “I think it’ll be fine,” Shun murmured, “I like your perspective. I never did a thing to deserve it and anything I did do, I did for my sister and my best friend. Maybe I can find some pride in it.”

   Crow smiled. He wanted to say something but he was too flattered to say anything so he broke into laughter. It was loud and raucous, fit to wake up the whole house but it didn’t. He ran his fingers through the back of Shun’s head, mussing up his hair in jest, annoying Shun but making him incredibly fond all the same.

   “Jus’ go back to bed, you.” Crow amusedly told him, teeth gritted through a grin.

   “Yeah, I promise, just let me finish my drink and toast first.” Shun told him.

   With that, Crow let up on his teasing. He put his hand on his hip and his grin turned into just a smile.

   “Don’t take too long then.” Crow replied. “Anyways, I’ve got some rounds I need to make. Construction starts eight sharp, after all, and there’s a lotta people in a lotta places who need a lotta things to help rebuild this Heartland place I’ve totally never heard of.”

   “Thanks.” Shun said, rolling his eyes.

   “Well, catch ya.” Crow gave him a goodbye salute and was out the front door as quietly as he could.

   Shun gave a meagre wave back, one Crow likely didn’t even see with his back turned but done having the gesture meant more than just sitting. To Shun at least. It felt like some feeble return of the invaluable bond that he and Crow had. They’d always had something more than a compatible respect, he felt, and this conversation just cemented that for him. He truly felt a burden had been lifted; the tingling sensations on his face, phantom pain from when he had been carved up by that device was no more from the second Crow had caressed him.

   Even though Shun felt like an outsider to this place of Crow’s, he felt like more of a pariah in his other options. He was told by Yuzu and her father that their offer to board him would never expire but the situation there was worse. Too uncanny and with grief he couldn’t begin to unpack because Ruri was there, more a spectre than anything else. So, it was better here than anywhere else, if only because he chose it of his own volition, unfettered by forced bonds.

   Shun got up and he put his cup on the sink. He took a breath and he had a thought that was peculiarly clear to him: he didn’t think it was going to be necessary to have Crow find someone who specialised in the removal of Criminal Marks but he was going to need to be thanked all the same.

[ererokii]

Repudium || Shouto Todoroki & Katsuki Bakugou

Pro Hero Shouto Todoroki x Fem! Reader x Pro Hero Katuski Bakugou

Repudium means rejection in Latin.

Warnings: angst, cursing, Todoroki is a douchebag once again, mwah katsuki is a king

Word Count: 10,734

Synopsis: Shouto leaves your heart in pieces and expects you to come back to him, but doesn’t realize someone is mending it back together. 

Taglist (message to be added): @shoutodoki @shoutosteakettle @miinaashido @saltie @fryingpanitachi @kingtamakimurder @sugacookiies @pixxiesdust @sacro---sainte

➺: Note: This is for @bnhabookclub​‘s bingo event! The prompt is Pain Comfort. You asked, so now you shall receive, this is part two of Once More. I suggest you read that first before reading this. Thank you Zeze, Mar, and Gabs for betaing <3

Bingo Masterlist

“I thought you were changing. You don’t care about anyone. You rather see those around you to die than save them. How can you call yourself a hero if you can’t even feel for the public? You are the worst hero ever.” 

Those words replayed like a song worth listening, over and over again. Your mouth that could sing dozens of symphonies sang a song that could curse a man for the rest of his life. Words of hatred and malice drowned Shouto to the pits of the earth, each syllable leaving your mouth another pierce to his heart. The twinkle in your eyes that could outshine any of the stars in the night sky were dimmed to the lowest as a waterfall of tears cascaded down your face. 

The look on your face could have brought anyone to their knees to beg for forgiveness, stuttering nonsense that was coherent only in their head. He could see it in your expressions. The way your bottom lip quivered as you listened to the poison of his words. Your smaller hands clenched and unclenched by your sides, your body shaking with each blow. Your head shook with nothing but denial as you tried to shrug his words off. You couldn’t. 

The grip you held his shirt with was full of pure disappointment, hurt, and dishonesty. He heard nothing in the moment, his cerulean and grey irises staring at the movement of your mouth, watching it open and close with each sentence you spoke. Your lips were curved down as you continued to yell at him. He suddenly felt light in your grasp. You had every right to tell him how you felt. He deserved your words. 

He felt even lower than dirt. The steel door blocking him from your life grew thicker and thicker, leaving him vulnerable and isolated. He used to be untouchable. He would stand on his throne, watching as everyone slowly sank lower and lower. A surge of pride and power would fill his body as he watched those struggle to get to his point in life. Until you came, and sent one kick to his throne, making him fall right through as he desperately tried to sit on top once again. 

You were a tide that kept washing him away. You caught him by surprise. Your twisted ways made him open up in ways he didn’t realize until it was too late. 

The moon illuminated a path of soft light through the curtains in the pitch-black room. The modernized clock resting on Shouto’s bedside table read 5:37 AM. His orbs trained on the time, watching every second change with him. The red digitized numbers are slow to switch.

“Get the fuck away from me.”

His long fingers ran through his hair slowly, lowering his head to look down in his lap as his fingers scratched the back of his head, nails adding a slight sting. A small sigh of distress left him as he stretched his arms above his head, feeling the joints of his elbows crack with the movement. 

It’s only been three weeks since his pride took over his brain. Whenever he tried to close his eyes, all he could see was you. 

Every day, he would be bombarded with news headlines about how amazing and heroic he was the night before. It was almost as if it was mocking him, reminding him of how much of a horrible person he was. Yet, he couldn’t wipe away that smirk that made its way onto his face when he noticed more people speaking about him. 

Big news broadcasting stations constantly asked for him to make an appearance on their shows, to which he happily obliged. Nothing made him more satisfied than being on the big screen for everyone to see. The shining star of the show making an entry. It pleased him. 

He mindlessly scrolled through his twitter, noticing some merchandise links and useless tweets from his PR Team. Dozens of notifications flooded his timeline, fans pinging him for meetups, random DMs from his followers or getting nasty tweets—which he didn’t appreciate, but it was the internet, after all. 

A red dot caught his attention from his DMs. Curiosity got the best of him as he clicked it, noticing none other than Ground Zero’s profile at the top. 

Bakugou: So are we on for that stupid patrol or what? You never responded back asshole. 

Oh, that. 

Shouto groaned softly, completely forgetting that he had a patrol with Bakugou later today. He clicked the message, fingers immediately typing a response out. 

Shouto: Yeah sure. Just meet at my agency at 2 PM.

Bakugou: Don’t tell me what to do bastard. 

“Well that settles that,” he muttered, tossing his phone somewhere on his bed, not really caring where it landed. His back collided with the silk sheets, his body relaxing upon contact. His hand reached out to the spot beside him, slowly running his hand up and down on the empty space as if he was looking for something, or maybe someone. 

His fingers curled around the material of his sheets, an iron grip at hand. He glanced over, expecting to be met with a pair of eyes or a back turned to him. Instead, he found nothing but the soft light produced by the moon. It peeked through his curtains, a small patch of light resting beside his relaxed body as if it was mocking him for his actions. His eyes gazed on the spot, noticing it was the area where you once laid. He growled quietly, grabbing one of his pillows, chucking it towards the curtains in anger. 

Shouto watched the pillow collide and fall on the floor. His lips parted slightly as small puffs of air left his mouth. “Stupid, stupid, stupid,” he muttered, running his hands over his face as he kept repeating the word. His hands hit his thighs with a slap, his nails digging into the skin and leaving crescent shape indents. “What the fuck am I even doing?” he questioned aloud. 

“Here I am, in the middle of the night, letting my emotions get the best of me. What kind of crap is that?” He got off his bed, walking over to his dresser. He opened the top two drawers and pulled extra clothes out, deciding that a shower was the best course of action. 

When he got in the shower, he closed his eyes as the beads of warm water hit his face and streamed down his body to the drain. His tufts of hair were plastered onto his face like glue. The water jet seemed to be on its best setting for his needs as he stood there, collecting his thoughts. 

He placed his hands against the tiled walls of the shower, back muscles flexing as he lowered his head to look downward at the shower drain, watching the water gather around and go down the hole. His long hair at the top covered his eyes, the water trailing down his nose as the droplets hit the bottom of the tub. 

“Fuck. What the hell is wrong with me?” he groaned, standing up straight as he slicked his hair back. 

☽✧ ✦ ✧☾

You hated it. You hated how weak you became in an instant. In a snap, everything went downhill. You weren’t able to smile as bright as you did before. You hated how he was able to get under your skin and become the only thing you could think about. He was a parasite to you. You despised him, yet he somehow came back to annoy the hell out of you. 

“Oh? Is it not? How much longer are you going to deny it? When are you going to learn Y/N? I’m Shouto! One or if not the greatest hero out there! I always get what I want. You were nothing but a stepping stool.”

Your eyes widened as you misplaced your foot, tripping over the ledge of your car. You quickly grabbed a hold of the handle, keeping yourself upright. You felt your cheeks swell in embarrassment as you quickly regained your composure, clearing your throat. Shutting the car door shut, you looked up to the powerful building that was the viewpoint in all of Japan. 

Shouto’s Agency. 

Just the mere thought of seeing him made you grit your teeth in anger. Your blood boiled at the fact that you had to step a single foot into that forsaken place, and even had to share the same air as him. 

The soles of your shoes hit against the cement as you walked around your car, opening the other side to stare at the brown box full of objects that had no use to you. This box was filled with Shouto’s things that he left at your place and the daycare. You didn’t feel like burning them, so giving them back would suffice. Holding the object in your arms weighed more than it had to. 

You bumped your hip against the door to shut it, and felt no use in locking it. A small sigh left your lips as you walked to the entryway. Each step felt heavy, like the earth could swallow you whole. Your pulse was beating like crazy, at any moment you wouldn’t be surprised if your heart jumped out from your mouth. 

You stopped your movements in front of the doors, watching them slide open before continuing inside. Upon entering, you were hit with the smell of new furniture—which was just the recently cleaned objects and cold air from the ceiling fans. The room was dimly lit, relying on the light from the outside. The main foyer had couches and small tables laid out, covering the area. Men and women filled the furniture, reading a book, or talking amongst themselves. 

You noticed that some of the workers were actually some of Shouto’s sidekicks or new interns he once told you about. Even just looking at them made you sick to your stomach.

Clearing your throat, you walked over to the main desk and dropped the box on the counter, watching the employee jump in surprise.

“Uh- Hi yeah, I’m here to drop off some things for Todoroki.”

“For Shouto?” the lady asked and looked up at you. “Hey aren’t you that girl he-”

“Yeah that’s me,” you interrupted her. “I just wanted to give his things back.”

She fixed her glasses and nodded, chewing on her gum as she typed something on her computer. “Alright, I’ll let Todoroki know.”

“Let me know what?”

You froze at the voice, your body stiffening up. Your blood ran cold as you heard footsteps get closer to you from behind until the presence of a body was close. The hairs on the back of your neck stood up as a deep laugh filled your eyes. 

“I didn’t expect to see you so soon. Miss me already?”

You growled quietly as you took a step to the side, refusing to face him. Don’t give him the pleasure of seeing you. He doesn’t deserve another glance. He doesn’t deserve anything from you. 

“I know you can hear me sweetheart. Come on, let’s talk.” His voice sent chills through your body. His hand rested on your shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. 

You swiveled around, raising your hand as your palm collided with his cheek. Your vision was blurry as you let out a choked sob, your hand still raised in the air. Your heart was beating out of your chest. The sound caught everyone's attention as they all stared at the commotion. Shouto moved his jaw slightly and rubbed his cheek, wincing slightly. There was now a red imprint on the swollen skin. “Damn, you really know how to slap someone huh?”

“I thought I made my point clear,” you sneered, lowering your hand to rest by your side. “I said I never wanted to talk to you again. I don’t want to see your face again.”

“Well, you came by didn’t you? Must have needed something from me if you decided to show up.”

“I came,” you started, ignoring the lingering stares from the bystanders, “To drop off your things. I could have burned them, but instead I decided to bring them back to you. Trash belongs with other types of trash, doesn’t it?”

The man in front of you laughed softly, shaking his head. Why was he laughing in a moment like this?

“Feisty, huh? Guess that was one of the things I love about you.”

Shouto had the audacity to say that he loved you? Even after all the shit he pulled?

“Oh no you don’t. Don’t you dare fucking say that word.” You wiped your nose with the sleeve of your jacket. “You don’t fucking love anything. No one but yourself. You’re a selfish bastard, how many times do I have to tell you? You are the worst in all of Japan.”

Even hearing those words for the second time in his life, he couldn’t shake the feeling off. Was he hurting? Was he turning upset? 

Deciding enough was enough, you nodded in self-reassurance and turned around, only to collide face-first into a muscular chest. “Hey!”

“Hey? That’s what you say when you bump into someone? Some manners you got.”

You automatically recognized the voice and pulled away as if he had the plague.

Standing in the flesh, Ground Zero stared down at you with his intense vermillion eyes, his arms crossed over his torso, wearing that famous scowl of his. 

“Some manners I got?” you growled and looked up at him. “Why do I have to move for you? You saw me here, didn’t you? Oh just because you’re in the top five, that gives you authority to act like that?”

His eyes widened slightly in shock. “Hey that’s not-”

“You know what? If all heroes are like him,” you yelled, pointing a finger at the bi-colored male behind you. “Then you guys need to stop being heroes! There’s no point in being out there if you don’t care for those in need! What kind of fakes are you guys?!”

Not giving him a chance to respond, you brushed past him, purposely bumping his shoulder with yours. He stumbled slightly, placing his hand on the counter to regain his balance. “What the fuck was that?” he whispered, watching you exit the main foyer.

Shouto sighed dramatically and shook his head, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “She’s always been like that.”

“Who the fuck is that?”

Shouto quirked an eyebrow and crossed his arms over his torso. “Why do you ask, Ground Zero?”

“I asked because she’s hot. I asked because I’m fucking curious, you bastard!”

The bi-colored male tilted his head slightly in confusion before shrugging, running his fingers through his hair. “That’s Y/L/N Y/N. She works at the local daycare about 20 minutes from here.”

“And how do you know her? What the hell was this shit show that just happened.”

“Oh, that? Don’t worry about it too much. She’ll come back soon.” 

A laugh rumbled in the depths of Shouto’s throat as his finger traced the sensitive skin of his cheek. Bakugou stared at him, unamused. 

“She rocked your shit and you’re saying don’t worry about it? What kind of bullshit answer is that?”

“Sounds to me like someone is scared to be seen with the number one pro hero, but that would be silly huh?” Shouto asked, completely dodging Bakugou’s questions as he checked his hand, front and back.

“Hah?! What did you say?! I’m not afraid of anything! Especially you!! Now quit talking and start fucking moving!” Bakugou shoved a gloved finger in Shouto’s direction before swiveling around. The ash-blond’s footsteps boomed with each step he took. He clenched and unclenched his fingers, his gauntlet hitting his hips as he walked. 

“What kind of bullshit answer is that?” he grumbled, tapping his foot against the cement sidewalk as he waited for the number one hero to come outside. For someone who wanted to patrol, he was sure taking his sweet time. 

“Shall we?” Shouto called from behind, walking past him. His chest was puffed out, his chin raised proudly in the air. A sly smirk was displayed on his face as he glanced at Bakugou from the corner of his eye. “Better get a move on. I would hate for you to fall behind.”

Bakugou gritted his teeth as he followed Shouto from behind. Many people on the streets gasped in astonishment at two of the top five heroes walking together. Children pointed at them from across the street, a toothy grin and shining sparkling eyes trained on them. 

“Look, papa! It’s Ground Zero and Shouto! I want their autograph!”

Shouto’s head perked up at the sound of his name and looked over to the small boy, who was bouncing up and down. Amused by his antics, Shouto walked over to the boy and crouched down to his height. 

A small smile was plastered onto his features as he patted him gently on top of the little boy’s head. “You wanted an autograph?”

The boy’s eyes widened as he nodded furiously, clenching his fists in front of his body. “Y-Yeah! Can you sign my backpack?!”

“Turn around, bud.”

He did as told, almost too fast as he stumbled over his own two feet. The pro hero took the sharpie from his smaller hands. Taking the cap off with his teeth, he kept it enclosed between the pearly whites as he quickly signed the backpack. 

“There. Now it looks even more amazing.”

“T-Thank you, Shouto! G-Ground Zero, can you sign mine?!” he gasped and approached rather quickly, holding the sharpie in his head. 

Bakugou wasn’t one for signings out of the blue, but this was an exception. 

The blonde nodded and took the marker away from him, turning the boy around as he signed near Shouto’s signature, making it a tad bit bigger on purpose. 

“Thank you!” he exclaimed and ran back to his dad, who wasn’t that far away. Both heroes could hear the excitement in his tone as he shoved the backpack into his father’s arms. 

“I thought you never do signings like this. Has the Ground Zero gotten soft?”

Bakugou clicked his tongue in annoyance, refusing to be part of Shouto’s games. “Whatever, idiot. Just keep on walking.”

“Oh, is someone upset?”

“Shut up and stop talking!!”

☽✧ ✦ ✧☾

The patrol was nothing out of the ordinary. The two heroes made their roundabouts, no trouble seemed to bother them. The only thing that annoyed Bakugou more than anything was the fact that Shouto couldn’t keep his mouth shut. And paperwork was the worst of all. Shouto kept asking small insignificant questions that drove Katsuki up the wall. 

Finally getting away from the devil himself, Katuski found himself standing in front of his car, his eyes hard and intense as he had his toned arms crossed over his torso. His eyes trained over a building, taking in the colorful delicate patterns of butterflies and kids smiling on the walls. The paint wasn’t chipping off. Instead it looked like it was fresh, maybe too fresh. The newly trimmed hedges that outline the building bloomed with budding roses. The flowers in the white pots loomed over the ground, each dancing tauntingly with the wind that sent small shivers through his hoodie and caused his hair to sway with each breeze. 

Katuski analyzed the area once more before placing his hands behind him on the hood of the car and pushed off, walking towards the door. 

Unlike Shouto Todoroki, Katsuki Bakugou arrived with a calm and open mind. Upon reaching the door, he noticed a hanging pot filled with yellow carnations. The bright color of the petals fluttered as if they were welcoming him. He stared, mesmerized by the color before shaking his head quickly, bringing his hand up to the door. His knuckles met with the door once, twice, and finally a third time before lowering it again. 

Shuffling could be heard from the other side of the door as the knob turned, the wooden surface opening up. 

Katsuki took sight of you, eyeing you up and down before meeting your eyes.

“G-Ground Zero?! W-What are you doing here?! This is so unexpected wow! I’m such a mess, god I’m so sorry! If only I knew you would come I would have at least cleaned myself up!”

“Can you stop rambling and actually let me talk?”

You stopped mid-sentence and shut your mouth, before opening it again. “Yeah uh… why are you here?”

“I wanted to talk to you.”

“T-To me?” You looked over your shoulder to make sure no one was behind you. No one was; you just couldn’t believe what you were hearing.

“Well yeah, who else am I gonna be talking to?”

“I- just you know after I went off on you there… I just didn’t expect you to ya know, come visit. Just caught me by surprise.”

“That’s actually what I wanted to talk about.”

“Oh. Well, we can talk then.”

“Out here? Please,” he scoffed and made his way inside, causing you to press up against the door as he walked past you. In those three seconds, you could smell his natural scent of ash and caramel with a hint of smoky wood. It pleased you. 

You automatically shut the door and followed him. He was sitting down on the couch with his hands behind his head, but with his legs bent, no manspreading. His attitude was drastically different from Shouto’s.

“Well,” you started, sitting across from him as you rubbed your sweaty palms on your thighs. “What did you want to talk about?”

“What happened between you guys.”

“Between who?”

“You and Icy-Hot. I saw you hit him and tried prying answers out of him. Better to get it from the other side than from someone whose head is up their fucking ass.”

“Oh,” you whispered and sunk your teeth on your lower lip, looking away. “That’s personal. Whatever happened between me and him, will stay between me and him. Besides, it wasn’t a big deal anyway.”

“Big deal?! You smack his face and say it’s not a big deal? Damn, what kind of shit answers are those?”

“Realistic answers!” you choked out, feeling your voice crack mid speaking. “They are realistic answers.”

“Real huh?” he whispered before leaning forward, clasping his hands in his lap. “Fine. Let’s be real, okay? You guys slept together huh? And he decided he didn’t want you anymore. Is that what happened? That’s the type of guy he is after all.”

Hearing his words made you realize how shitty you’ve been feeling. He was only in your presence for five minutes or less and he already cracked your mid-life crisis. The quiver in your lip was his answer. 

“So that’s what happened then,” he whispered.

“And what if it did?! It doesn’t matter, like I said! I was his stepping stool! He didn’t care! I was his doormat and I let him walk over me because I was too gullible to notice before! He’s a fucking heartless asshole!” you cried out, hiccuping as you covered your face from him, shielding the somewhat dignity you had left. Your nose was getting stuffed up by the second as you sniffled, letting out another pained sob, the first of many that day. Each day would end like this, you going into a state of confusion and would cry yourself to sleep. It was a continuous cycle of pain that you wanted to end. 

“Everyone thinks of him as this high and mighty person that cares for others, but he doesn’t!” You looked into the hero’s eyes, your own filled with nothing but defeat and pain, the whites of your eyes now turning red from the onslaught of crying. “I hate him! I fucking hate him!” each word had a powerful meaning behind it. “He ruined me! He had me wrapped around his finger and played me like a fiddle!”

Bakugou felt bad for you. You went from someone who told him off hours earlier, to sobbing up a storm and ranting about your feelings. He felt awkward sitting there as you poured out to your heart’s content. His body was tense as he fiddled with the pocket of his black hoodie. Seeing you there hopeless made his heart sting with pain, and he felt like he had to save you, even though he didn’t know you.

To be your hero. The hero you deserve, not Shouto Todoroki. 

He contemplated something before standing up and walked over to you. The couch creaked at the new addition of weight that was put on top. “Look,” he started as his mind went blank. What was he going to say? Hey, it's okay, forget him. He's legit shit anyway. How do you comfort someone when their relationship was a total lie?

Your sobs filled his ears as he sighed softly, rubbing his temple in growing annoyance. “First of all stop crying already!”

The sudden change of tone surprised you as you stared at him with innocent wide eyes. “W-What?”

“I said stop fucking crying. It doesn’t look good on you.”

You let out a hiccup as you wiped your eyes with the pad of your fingers. For some reason, Katsuki thought you looked like the most beautiful person on the planet. Here you were, in raw emotion for some idiot who wasn’t worth your time, yet at the same time you decided to show Katsuki and no one else. It filled him with a sense of peace that you trusted him enough, despite barely knowing him. 

The ceiling fan shined artificial light upon you, somehow making you look ethereal as your tears glistened. Your lips formed in a pout as your bottom lip kept quivering, no matter how many times you tried to control it. The tips of your ears were red, your cheeks joining in on the rosy color. Your makeup was nowhere perfect anymore. Mascara dribbled down your face as it mixed with your tears, black staining your cheeks. 

“Are you done crying yet?”

There was a moment of silence before another whimper left your throat as you shook your head. “N-No!”

Yet again another round of painful sobs wracked through your body. Your head was starting to hurt at the attack to your body. Bakugou inhaled deeply as he wrapped an arm around your shoulder, bringing you closer to his chest. He could feel your shaking form as you threw your arms around him, burying your head into the crook of his neck. 

“H-He-”

“Shut up,” he grumbled, his voice rough around the edges, but wasn’t his normal tone. His calloused hand pressed against your back, his fingers slowly running up and down as his thumbs rubbed small circles to calm you down. “He’s a shit person. I get it. But you aren’t going to sit here and cry about him forever, are you?”

The silence was a sign to continue on. 

“He played you. He’s an asshole, but I didn’t know he was this big of a dick. Everyone plays him as Mr. Nice Guy or Mr. Hero. I didn’t know he was this bad,” he muttered, bringing a hand to cradle the back of your head, stroking the skin behind your neck in a soothing manner. “Honestly, fuck him. He doesn’t deserve your time and certainly doesn’t deserve your stupid fucking tears. He still thinks you’re going to go back to him. Why don’t you show him who the bigger person is, hah?”

“He thinks I’m going back to him?” you whispered, your words coming out muffled due to hiding your head from him.

“Yeah. He does. His head is so clouded with stupidity that he thinks he’ll always get what he wants.”

“...he is pretty stupid.”

The rumbling in his chest indicated he found it funny, but true. He pushed you away from his chest, placed his hands on your shoulders, and stared into your tear-filled eyes. “So. What are you going to then, Princess?”

You licked your lips and looked down at your lap, staring at the palms of your hands. “I’m going to... Stop crying over him, m-move on and be the bigger person?”

“Are you asking me? Or are you telling me?”

“I-I’m telling you!”

His lips curved upward slightly as he wrapped his arm around you, bringing you to his chest once more. “Guys like him expect everyone to spoon feed him because of his reputation. And everyone says I’m the worst out of the top five,” he grumbled to himself, running his hand up and down your back. “I’ll take care of you. I promise you that.”

☽✧ ✦ ✧☾

A man of his word, Bakugou did as he promised. Since that day he visited you the first time, you stayed in contact. You were wary of course, looking for any red flags that history could possibly repeat itself. 

Unlike Shouto, Katsuki couldn’t come around as much. As he told you before, his hero work was the most important since where his agency was stationed, there was a lot of crime. You respected that, of course. It made you feel happy when he would talk to you on the phone about the amount of citizens he saved and how many villains he took down by himself. The kids, they went wild.

When one of the girls took notice of a gauntlet laying around the room, she screamed in happiness saying that Ground Zero was here, or that you bought a knock-off from online. Of course from the screaming, the pro hero ran inside at top speed, looking for any sign of danger.

“Where is it?!”

“It’s Ground Zero!!”

A flock of children surrounded him as they screamed incoherent words of happiness, jumping up and down as if he was their idol; which he was. 

“How hot can your explosions get?!”

“Do you burn yourself?!”

“Can you fly?!”

“Do you sneeze and they go off?!”

“Hah?!” he yelled and crossed his arms over his torso, looking away. “What kind of fucking questions are those?!”

“Bakugou!” you snapped, walking into view with a bag of something inside. “We talked about using that language in here!”

“What does ‘fucking’ mean?” a little girl asked, tugging on the material of his pants, looking up at him with child innocent eyes. 

His mouth parted but no answer came out. His cream-colored cheeks soon became a soft rosy red as he looked away quickly. “I-”

“I bought mochi!” you said quickly, lifting the bag up and shaking it slightly to grab their attention. At the mention of treats, they all scrambled away from him and stood in front of you with happy grins and eyes. 

“Get in a line. Bakugou, come help me please.”

The ash-blond groaned but walked to you anyway, taking the small bowl from you that held the dough filled with sweet ice cream. He eyes them warily before crouching down to their level and stuck the bowl out for their awaiting grabbing hands. 

“Only one,” he said to a little boy who laughed joyously and placed it back before running to his friend, comparing the flavors they had. 

“And one for me,” you teased, taking one from him. Bakugou clicked his tongue in annoyance and placed the bowl back on the small table. “I don’t know how you can eat those. They seem too sweet. Spicy is where it’s at.”

“Well I’m not going to burn a bunch of six-year-olds’ tongues either, Bakugou!” you huffed and took a bite out of the dough, the taste of the sweet ice cream filled your tastebuds. “Come on try some!” you lifted the sweet to his mouth, urging him to bite it. 

“Hah?! That’s bad for you!”

“Come on, Katsuki. Are you afraid of a little sweet? Never took you for the scared type.” You grinned. His heart fluttered at the sound of his name leaving your lips. He growled and snatched the green treat from you.

“‘M’not scared!” he yelled and eyed the delicious treat before taking a bite out of it. His eyes widened slightly from their original state and chewed slowly. He looked away from you and swallowed. “Not bad, still tastes like shit.”

A happy smile graced your features at his change of heart over something as small as this. “So will you eat the rest of it with me?”

“I guess. Only if you wipe that stupid dopey smile off your face.”

A cry of pain distracted you from your reverie as you turned quickly to find the source of pain. 

A group of kids was surrounding one young girl who had a hand covering her eye. 

“Himarie, sweetie what happened?” You asked the small girl, kneeling beside her as your hand hesitantly reached for hers that shielded her eye. 

“Fire!”

“Fire? Honey let me see.”

“I’ll hurt you!”

“No you won’t. Come on, let me see.” you encouraged her softly, wrapping your hand around her smaller wrist and lowered it slowly. 

Fire shot out from her eye as soon as her hand was lowered. She cried in pain and covered it again, whimpering softly. 

The rug caught on fire as you shrieked, moving the kids out of the way. “K-Katsuki!”

“Got it,” the male voiced out, immediately putting out the fire with the fire extinguisher, his tongue peeking out in concentration. He let out a huff and lowered the hose. “Looks like someone got their quirk. That’s a nice one if I do say so myself.” He put the red canister down and walked over to where you and Himarie stood. 

“Is she going to be okay Miss Y/N?!” 

“Yes, she’s going to be okay. She’s a strong girl, aren’t you honey?” you whispered softly and stroked her brown hair. 

“Let me see,” Bakugou whispered, nudging you away from her gently. “Look at me.”

She shook her head, afraid of hurting him as well. “I’ll burn you!”

“I burn myself on a daily basis, Himarie. I’m used to it. Now let me see.”

The brunette shakily lowered her head, her bottom lip quivering in fear. 

Bakugou analyzed her before bringing a hand to her face, rubbing her cheek softly with his thumb. “You’re scared huh? I remember when I first got my quirk. I was scared. I thought I would blow myself up at one point. But there’s nothing to be afraid of. You’ll learn how to control it soon,” he said to her, his voice soft yet rough at the same time. Each word seemed to roll off his tongue with ease, as if he was made for moments like this. His larger hand patted her head gently.

Himarie continued to stare at him with uncertainty before launching herself onto him, her small arms encircling his neck. “T-Thank you Ground Zero!”

He tensed up before hesitantly wrapping an arm around her, patting her back with a gentle touch. “Of course. That’s what we’re here for anyway, to make sure kids like you are out of harm’s way. Just don’t do anything stupid with that, got it?”

You watched a few steps away, your heart softening at the moment in front of you. In all of his fame, his unruly behavior was something that everyone saw. This moment was intoxicating to you. You wanted to see more of him like this. If only the public knew this was how Bakugou Katsuki was, everyone would be throwing themselves at him. The only difference between him and Shouto, was that Bakugou cares. He did it to save those in need, to be a protector, not for the fame and the money. 

His vermillion orbs met yours as the corner of his lips curled into a smirk, sending a small wink your way. A wave of heat flooded your cheeks as you gave him a small wave in return. The light’s reflection illuminated his eyes, the different colors of his irises shining. It was amazing to see him here. You only wished for one thing: that he was here before Shouto Todoroki. 

☽✧ ✦ ✧☾

As time went by, the hot atmosphere turned chilly, and the trees turned to orange and red. Fall approached faster than anything. Months upon months passed by without a second thought. 

The cold air of the autumn wind descends upon you, each needle of the breeze poking through any open outlet through your clothes. You buried your nose in your burgundy scarf, begging for any type of warmth to relieve your shaking body. The vibrant assortments of oranges and red were pleasing to the eye, but getting harder to appreciate as each second passed by. 

Your hands were stuffed in the pocket of your jackets as you kept your head down to shield your eyes from any upcoming harsh wind. The annual fall festival arrived and that was something you wanted to see, with a special someone of course.

“Are you that fucking cold?”

You peered up through your lashes, glancing at the blond who walked beside you with ease. He seemed to be content with just his jacket and scarf. His hands were stuffed in his pockets, his fingers curling and uncurling from the inside.

“Y-y-yes I’m cold!” you spoke through your chattering teeth, bringing your hands up and placing them underneath your armpits, relishing in the warmth from your jacket. Your eyes trained over the different stands full of crafts, food, and beverages. 

“That’s too bad.” you could hear the smugness in his tone as you continued to walk the brick pathway through the festival. “Your teeth look like they could fall out any minute now due to your stupid chattering.”

“Well not everyone is a walking heater, Katsuki,” you chirped, your voice muffled by the fabric of your scarf warming your neck. “If I was, I’d be looking like you.”

“Like me?! What’s that supposed to mean, hah?!”

“Meaning I could wear a jacket and a skirt and not worry about the cold! I said what I said!”

Bakugou growled and tugged you closer by your elbow, no ill intent in his hold. His hand reached under your elbow, his fingers digging into your skin. It was a simple yet meaningful gesture. 

A small smile graces your features as your eyes watch the leaves fall from their respected trees, trails of orange and red filling your vision. The sky was a pink layout with splotches of blue and orange that complimented each other. The clouds floating through the sky effortlessly, the sun saying its slow goodbye before sleeping for the night until the next morning.

“I wish they had more festivals like this.”

“Well if they did, stupid villains would be surrounding this shit place anyway.”

You rolled your eyes in annoyance, leaning your head on his bicep as your fingers curled around his arm. “Uh-huh, sure. Way to be optimistic about it.”

“Just being realistic. Something you should be.”

“Hey!” you pouted, feigning hurt. “I can be realistic!”

Bakugou gave you a side glance before shaking his head. “Don’t fool both of us dumbass.”

You whined and stood on your tiptoes, placing a quick kiss to his cold cheek. “The only one I can fool is you after all.”

A pleased hum left his throat as he laced your fingers together, the warmth radiating from his palm automatically making you fuzzy inside. 

Ever since Shouto left, you felt confused, lost and most importantly, empty. The void in your heart felt that it would never be filled again. Shouto left and took your happiness with him, deciding to leave you a wreck for this own personal pleasure. He was everywhere you looked, paper news, broadcasting, twitter. It was like you couldn’t escape him. Each time you saw a photo of him, he always had the same expression. A smug smirk would grace his features, it was taunting you and you knew it. 

When Bakugou entered your life, it made you realize that you didn’t have to worry about someone like Shouto ruining you again. Bakugou slowly filled the void in your heart, and you were beyond thankful. At first, you didn’t trust him at all. He was in fact in the top five heroes, and was known as the mean one in the public eye. You couldn’t tell if his actions were genuine or just for show to lure you in like a predator. 

“Hey.”

“Huh?” You shook your head, kicking you out of your daze as you looked up at the male. 

“Y-yeah?”

“Why do you look like that?” he asked, but more in a demanding tone.

“This is my face?”

“No, you idiot. You look lost. What’s wrong?”

“Just thinking about before is all, ya know, Shouto,” you muttered the last part, your head lowering in shame.

“Well stop thinking of that icy-hot bastard. I hate the way you get over some stupid guy like him,” he growled, his finger curling under your chin to make you look up at him. “Cause Princess, he’s an idiot for letting someone as beautiful as you go.”

He leaned closer, pressing his lips against yours tenderly. Your hand reached up and cradled his cheek, rubbing the swell with your thumb gently. His arm wrapped around your waist tightens, bringing you closer to his chest. In your moment of love, unbeknownst to you, the sound of a camera went off. 

☽✧ ✦ ✧☾

He couldn’t believe what he was seeing. His grey and cerulean orbs filled with anger, staring down at the photo that was displayed on his phone, a new headline for the news. 

Ground Zero getting comfy at the Autumn Festival!

Shouto’s fingers curled around his phone, his hand unintentionally getting colder by the minute. He was seething in anger. His shoulders moved with his erratic breathing as he threw his phone across his desk, ignoring the noise of his device hitting the ground. 

A small flame emitted from his hand. He abruptly stood up, gripping the edge of his desk with a vice-like grip, his fingers slowly turning white from the pressure. His fingernails dug into the hardwood, ignoring the pain shooting through his arms. He sunk his teeth into his lower lip as his hands let go of the edges before reaching under and threw his arms up, flipping the wooden desk over in anger. 

The furniture broke on impact as he groaned out in annoyance. Not only were things not going his way, but he also needed to buy a new desk.  

“Just who in the hell does he think he is?” he whispered angrily, running his hand through his hair as he paced back and forth in his office, his footsteps hard against the rug. “Just walking in her life and thinking he can do that? He’s far from right.”

Shouto was no idiot. He was intelligent and knew what happened on the sidelines. Bakugou stayed with you to help out with the daycare. He did the same exact thing as Shouto did, and oh did it piss him off more than anything. In Shouto’s eyes, you were going to come back to him. You might just be acting up, but you’ll return to him.

He quickly glanced at the clock on the wall. It read 4:46 PM. From what he remembered, the daycare should be closing at 5 PM. If he left now, he could probably stop you before you headed home. 

The chiming of his phone knocked him from his cloud of thoughts as he walked over to the shattered screen, the light illuminating on his face.

Midoriya 

“Fuck,” he groaned and reached above his head, his joints cracking with the movement. His finger tapped the green circle as he brought his phone to his ear, sighing softly. “Hello?”

“Hi Todoroki! I just wanted to make sure you knew about tomorrow still!”

“...what’s tomorrow?”

“You forgot already? Figures if you’re so busy! It’s the meet and greet we have with Kacchan tomorrow!”

He choked on his spit as he coughed into his hand in shock. “T-that’s tomorrow?!”

“Yeah! Your PR team didn’t tell you?”

“Uh...” he trailed off, glancing at the mess of his room. Pens and papers were scattered all over the place. “I’m sure they did. Whatever, what time was it at?”

“11 AM!”

“Do I have to go?”

“Of course you have to Todoroki-kun! You’re number one! And number one has to be there, remember?!”

Number one. 

Hearing those words made butterflies flutter in his stomach as his head filled with conceited thoughts. He smirked faintly as he hung his head back, staring at the ceiling. “Yeah. You’re right. I am number one, and I always get what I want.”

“What was that? You cut out at the end.”

“Huh? Nothing, don’t worry about it. I’ll see you in the morning with...him.”

“Oh speaking about Kacchan, did you see the photos? Turns out he was with that girl you were seeing before you broke up!”

He growled into the microphone, his noise being caught by Midoriya’s ears. “I saw. They look terrible together.”

“You think so? I think they look cute together! I’m glad he found someone.”

“Yeah well I’m not,” he snapped and began to pace around the room. “I know she’s playing hard to get. She came to visit me again even after saying to fuck off. That obviously means something. I mean, why wouldn’t she want me? I’m rich, successful and the highest out of everyone. Why would she settle for him?” he spat, his voice dripping with malice and hatred for the blond. 

“Uh, Todoroki? Do you hear how you’re sounding right now?”

“Course I do.”

“Then don’t you think you’re being a bit too...over the top?”

“I’m not. I sound perfectly fine. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have business to take care of.”

“Ahh okay! See you tomorrow Todoroki-kun!”

Without saying goodbye, Shouto hit the red circle and turned his phone off, shoving it into his front pocket. “I guess some things I have to keep working for,” he whispered and walked past the mess he made prior to the phone call, to the door. His hand wrapped around the knob and twisted it, pulling it to open the door. 

“I’m Shouto. I’ll win her back. She’ll realize I’m the one for her, and he’s complete utter shit. I’ll get her back. I’m the best after all.”

An amusing chuckled rumbled through his chest as he made his way down the corridor, on his way to take back what was his first. 

☽✧ ✦ ✧☾

Shouto Todoroki would have never thought about this situation in a million years. Yet again, here he was. Arriving at the daycare with a frown upon his face, he exited the vehicle with a gentle push of the driver’s door, the car not moving from the gentle force. He took one glance at the daycare and sighed softly. “It’ll be easy,” he whispered to himself, letting one foot lead in front of the other. As he walked to the entrance, he took notice of the new and improved details. The once peeling paint was newly refurbished, each drawing looking amazing as ever. The hedges surrounded the center like a barrier, protecting them from him. The flowers he ordered were no longer there, which he assumed they died over time or you tossed them out, Instead, they were replaced with lilies and roses, each color displaying just for him. The color orange only reminded him of Katsuki Bakugou, a newfound hatred for him. Each flower moved with the wind as they greeted him.

He walked to the front door with his hands shoved deep into his pockets. Upon reaching it, he slowly lifted a hand that seemed to weigh more than anything in the world. He let out a shaky sigh and let his knuckles hit the door twice. Shouto brought his hand to his mouth and wiped it, his lips dry from nervousness. 

He felt as if years passed by as he stood there, waiting for you or someone to answer. He hoped it was only you, but by the looks of it, another car was parked beside yours, and it definitely wasn’t one of the employees. 

The sweet melody of laughter filled his ears as he stared at the knob moving to open the door. The hinges squeaked and it was pulled open, Shouto keeping his eyes trained forward. 

You opened the door with a laugh, Bakugou bringing up an old memory from his high school years. 

Your smile faltered as it was automatically wiped with your face, a scowl replacing it instead. “What do you want?”

“I want to talk to you.”

“I don’t,” you snapped and went to close the door in his face but he stuck his foot out last second, the only thing keeping you from shutting him out forever. 

“Please. I just want to talk.”

You said nothing in return, slowly opening the door again. You stood in front of the frame, your arms crossed over your torso. “Outside.”

“Princess? Who is at the door?”

Shouto’s ears perked at the sound of Bakugou’s voice as he tried looking over your shoulder before you moved in front of his line of sight. “No one Katsuki! Give me five!” you yelled back, pressing a hand against Shouto’s chest and you pushed him slightly, shutting the door behind you. 

“Princess? He’s here too? So you’re fucking him now?”

“And what if I am? What’s it matter to you, Todoroki? Why do you care now? We aren’t together. You made that quite clear a year ago.”

“I know but, him? Out of all people you went for him?”

“Yeah, I did. Is that a problem for you? Oh wait, I guess it is if we are even having this conversation. Plus I thought you wanted to talk. Not pick on the things you think are wrong with my life.” 

Shouto’s hands twitched by his side, itching to feel your body against his once more. “I-“

“Or is the problem is that you can’t even hold a real conversation without making it about you, huh?”

“That’s not true.”

“Oh, it’s not?” You tilted your head to the side. “Prove it then, right now. What the hell is so important that you have to bug me?” you demanded. You hated how he could just waltz up in here and act like nothing happened. One of the many things you hated about him.

“I’m sorry.”

You choked on air as you stared at him, shocked. “You— you’re what?”

“I said I’m sorry.”

“Y-You’re sorry?”

He nodded quietly, a look of sadness in his eyes. You didn’t believe him one bit. You couldn’t. If he was actually sorry, why did he wait so long? Did he expect you to make the first move? 

“If you are, why did you wait so long?” you whispered softly, the ground becoming your main interest as you kicked at it gently with the tip of your shoe. “Why a year? Why not when I saw you again?”

“...I don’t know. I thought you would have come back to me after what I said. I didn’t think it would get this out of hand. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean anything I said back then.”

“I don’t believe you Shouto. I’m sorry but I can’t. You caused me so much fucking pain that I—“ you cut yourself off, letting out a shaky breath. “— I couldn’t even trust him. It took me so long to finally trust Katsuki because of you. You ripped my heart and took it with you until you didn’t need me anymore for your selfish desires. You don’t care for me Shouto, you never have.”

“Y/N,” he whispered and took a step forward, halting when he saw you take a step away from him. “Please. I still love you.”

“No you don’t!” you yelled suddenly, clenching your fists as you looked into his eyes. Your vision became glossy with tears, the glistening substance trailing down your face. “You don’t! Stop lying to me! When will you stop lying to people Shouto?! Don’t you see?! We have feelings! We get hurt!” you cried out, pointing a finger in his way. “We aren’t for your personal pleasures!! You used me! You threw me out! And now that I’m finally happy, you want me back?!”

Your bottom lip quivered in pain as you let out a choked sob, bringing a hand to shield it from him. “You aren’t the only human on this planet! Stop pretending that you are! You can’t even see the real message in front of you, can you?!”

Shouto stood there in shock. His mind was moving a thousand miles per hour but nothing left his lips. His body refused to move any closer to your, afraid of a future he didn’t want. He loves you. After all this time, he’s in love with you. He misses your small kisses, your beautiful laugh, your smile that was only for him. He misses seeing you beside him in the awakening morning, your messy hair or tired displays of love. Yet in his own foolishness, he lost you. 

“I always thought I might be bad, now I’m sure that it’s true,” he started off with a whisper, letting his body move on its own. “Cause I think you’re so good, and I’m nothing like you, Y/N.”

“Stop coming towards me.”

He didn’t listen, only advancing forward to you. You sunk your teeth into your lower lip as you placed a hand behind you, feeling the door that was behind you. He bent one leg slightly, looming over you. You lifted a hand up, bringing it down to slap him but he caught it last second, holding both of your wrists in his hand. 

“Look at you go, I just adore you,” he whispered softly, his voice sending chills through your body. His own orbs glossed with tears, sniffling as he rested his forehead against yours. His eyes squeezed shut as his tears cascaded down his face, the substance hitting against your hands. 

“I wish that I knew what makes you think I’m so special,” you whispered meekly, your voice cracking with each word that left your mouth. The wavering in your vocal cords made you upset with yourself. His fingers tighten around your smaller hands, bringing them to his chest. You could feel the steady beat of his heart. 

“I learned how to love like you… and in my own stupidity, I ruined it. Please, all I ask is for one more chance. I’m better than him, ” he opened his eyes, his heterochromia ones staring into your own. His tears flowed effortlessly. 

Here was the man that once said he didn’t need anyone at the top. That he was the one looking over everyone with no one by his side, that no one was worthy of him. The one who couldn’t believe in trust. The one who was the best at everything. The one who got what he always wanted. Here was the man that you fell head over heels for, but got your heart crushed in the process. Leaving you for the dust, you were left. Until someone else came in, slowly picking up the pieces of your broken heart and piecing them back together until you were ready to hand your heart off to him. 

You squirmed in Shouto’s grip until your hands broke free from his grip. “Get off!!” you yelled, pushing him off of you with full force, watching him stumble back and fall on his ass, landing on the soft grass. 

“What part don’t you get anymore?! I said I never wanted to see you again and you want to talk and pull that crap?!”

“That’s not—“

“That’s not what?!” you yelled, your tears of sadness turning into fresh hot tears of anger. “You think you can come walking in here and say ‘Hey I’m super sorry I didn’t mean it! Can we get back together again?!’ Did you honestly think that would work, Shouto?! I don’t love you anymore!! I don’t want you anymore!!”

“Hey, what’s going on?!”

You swiveled around quickly, a sense of relief filing your body at the entrance of an ash blond. Bakugou walked up to you and noticed Shouto on the floor, his fingers digging into the earth. “What the hell is happening?”

“Katsuki,” you whispered and threw yourself at him, burying your head into his chest as your arms encircled his torso. His arms immediately wrapped around your body, bringing you closer into his protection. 

“Why are you here, Icy-Hot?!”

Shouto got up quickly, wiping the dirt from his backside. “I came to talk to Y/N.”

“I don’t want to talk to you anymore!” you yelled, turning around slightly to face him. Your fingers dug into Bakugou’s side, not hard enough to cause any pain. “I want you gone!!”

“I’m not done talking with you yet!”

“She said she doesn’t want you here. Now leave!! I know you’re a fucking asshole but I didn’t know you can’t listen!!” Bakugou yelled, his face slowly turning into a rosy red as his anger levels rose. His grip on your body tightens, his knuckles turning white. 

You cracked Bakugou’s jaw in your face, forcing him to look down at you. Yet, he couldn’t look at you, keeping his eyes trained on the hero in front of him. “Katsuki,” you whispered, gently patting his cheek. “Please look at me.”

The ash-blond reluctantly looked down at you, his nostrils flaring in anger. “I love you,” you said softly, your hand reaching up and brushing some hair out of his face. 

His face softens at your words, feeling his anger slowly fade away. “I love you too.”

You nodded and pulled away from him, inhaling deeply as you walked up to Shouto, your head held high. He stared down at you with nothing but eyes full of defeat and sorrow. A small smile of sadness curved at your lips as you cupped his cheek. He closed his eyes as he leaned into your touch, begging for more of it. 

“Shouto,” you whispered softly, keeping the gap between both of you evident for Katsuki’s observing eyes. “I don’t want to be with you anymore. I’m happy. Can’t you see?” you asked, pulling away from him. “I love Katsuki with all my heart. I want to be with him. What you and I had, that’s long gone. You decided that you didn’t need that, you didn’t bother to care for someone other than yourself. You chose this route, I didn’t. I loved and cared for you. I truly did.”

You took a step back and looked into his awaiting eyes, his heart waiting for the words he longed for, but knew he wasn’t getting them anytime soon. “You chose fame and money over me, I can’t get upset by your decision. All I ask, is that you leave the both of us alone. Please.”

“Y/N, please. I’m sorry for what I did. Please just-”

You shook your head and lifted your hand in the air, cutting him off. “I’m tired of hearing you now. Please, leave already. You’re making it worse by being here. So do us a favor before he comes in and does something he won’t forget.”

Shouto’s heart of stone fell to the base of his body, cracking upon contact and shattering into millions of pieces. This time it was unfixable. The last time he felt this hurt was when he was a mere child, seeing the abuse his mother was put through by his father. He felt lost and alone like no one was by his side. Here was the woman he loved. He thought he had a future with you. But let’s be realistic, after the show he put on a year ago, that dream was long gone. He chose this path, with many regrets. What was he even thinking? He let his pride win over his own humanity. And now he has to pay the price for it.

Without another word to you or Bakugou, he swiveled on his heel and rushed to his car, his hand fishing in his pocket for his keys. He opened the door as quick as he could and got inside, jabbing the keys to start it up. It wasn’t worth it if he couldn’t get back with you. 

You stood under the tree, the sun making its way to take its rest for the day. The gentle rays of orange seep through the leaves, hitting your supple skin that gave you a glow. A small smile of satisfaction graced your features as you closed your eyes, allowing yourself to bathe in the tranquility of this moment. 

You wrapped your arms around your body as you hummed softly, your eyes stinging and tired from your previous crying. 

Arms from behind wrapped around you, bringing you to rest against his chest. Bakugou leaned over slightly, burying his head in the crook of your neck. “What are you thinking about, pretty girl?”

“Mmm, you as always.”

“That’s funny,” he mumbled, nipping the tender skin of your neck before placing a kiss in its place. “What were you really thinking about?”

“You!” You laughed softly, resting your head on top of his. “Am I not allowed to think about my amazing boyfriend?”

A pinch to your side made you squeak in surprise as you tried pulling away from him, but his strong arms kept you in place. “I didn’t say that dumbass,” his gruff voice whispered in your ear as he suddenly lifted you up, holding you in a bridal style carry. Your arms immediately wrapped around his neck.  

“What’s with the over the top affection now?” you teased, kissing his cheek gently, lingering your lips on the warm skin. 

“Damn you always have to question everything I do, don’t you?” he huffed in annoyance as he walked back inside, kicking the door of the daycare center shut. “Can’t just take my answer as it is.”

“Oh but you know I love messing with you, Suki!”

He grumbled at the pet name you’ve given him over the course of your relationship. No matter how many times he said he hated it, deep down he loved hearing it come from you and only you. If anyone found out about it, he wouldn’t be afraid to blast them to hell. 

“Katsuki?”

“What?”

“What do you think about that whole ordeal?”

“Well it was fucking stupid,” he started off, placing you down on the couch beside him as he threw an arm around your shoulder, bringing you to rest your head on his shoulder. “He had no business coming back again, even after you told him you wanted nothing to do with him. He should have known better than to mess with you. Fucking bastard doesn’t know when to stop,” he growled, his hand rubbing up and down your arm.

“Well I don’t think he’ll be bothering me anytime soon,” you looked up at him, smiling. “Especially now. After all, I got a little guard dog.”

“Guard dog?! Is that what you think of me as?!”

“Maybe,” you trailed the last syllable out, grinning before going serious. “But overall… I’m glad I met you. As you know, I was in a dark place before we started dating and, I just want to truly thank you for coming into my life, Katsuki.”

His vermillion eyes trained on your expressions before kissing your forehead. “Dumbass, you don’t have to thank me. After all, that idiot needs a good punch to the face. And I might be the one to do it.”

You rolled your eyes and nestled your head into his chest, breathing in his caramel scent. Before meeting Bakugou Katsuki, you thought you could never trust or find someone that truly loved you and was not using you for their personal gain. You were a broken piece of art and he was the sculptor. Over time he mended the pieces of your shattered heart and formed it into something better than before. Bakugou Katsuki was not only your lover, he was your best friend, your shoulder to cry on. 

But most importantly, he was your hero. 

[weirdthinkingdragon]

Slithering Chains PT (1/3)

Yandere naga present mic x reader

quirkless/aged up au. Warnings: Only swearing for now

“C’mon Y/N! It will be fun! Rumor has it there are friendly nagas on the island!” Gushed Mina. That makes me cross my arms. She’s seriously out of her mind if she thinks it’s a good idea to go to an island for something that’s a supposed rumor. 

“I highly doubt they’d be friendly. Especially since we’d technically be invading their territory.” I reply. She rolls her eyes and huffs. 

“Besides, why should we go looking for a damn overgrown lizard?” Katsuki cuts in with a scowl and his arms crossed. Hanta shrugs. “I’m with Mina on this. It would be really cool to see one,” he turns to Eijiro. “What do you think?”

“I don’t know. I was hoping we could go camping instead somewhere. Katsuki still has to show me those incredibly manly skills he learned back in boy scouts he hasn’t shown me yet.” Katsuki’s face went to full-on pride. 

Mina suddenly jumps up and down. “I have the PERFECT idea! We should go camping at the island!!! That way we could do both!” 

“Ooh! That’s a great idea! Count me in!” Exclaimed Denki. 

Katsuki’s face falls into a deep frown. “That actually sounds like a good idea!” Eijiro cheerfully replies. Mina fist-bumps the air and tackles Eijiro into a tight hug. “You can definitely count me in!.” Hanta pipes up.  

I can already tell we’re not going to win this argument. Wait, didn’t Hanta go to boy scouts as well? “Weren’t you in boy scouts too? Can’t you do the same things?” I question. He sheepishly smiles at me. “Eh, I didn’t last very long in it for a few different reasons.” 

“Not showing up half the damn time and hanging out with dunce face really didn’t help.” Katsuki informs. They both flinch at his words. “Uh… let’s not talk about that…” 

They all suddenly turn to me expectantly, even Katsuki, probably hoping I deny. You know what? There’s nothing too bad that could possibly happen, and they most likely won’t stop begging until we do. “... fine,” I turn to Katsuki. “You better have some mad skills.” 

He glares at me annoyed. “Of fucking course  they’re good!” 

I smirk. Sometimes he’s so fun to piss off. “Well, pack up guys. We’re going camping.” 

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

It took a little longer than we thought to find a boat that would take us. No one wanted to go to the island. We eventually found a place around the ocean that would bring us for a rather large fee. None of us were happy about that but it was the best shot we had. Also if something happens to us on the island we’re on our own since they won’t come back for four days to pick us up. Good thing we packed extra food. We also only brought three tents since they’d be a hassle to carry otherwise and we can take turns carrying them if needed. 

We get right up to the island and get dropped off on a sandy beach. The boat immediately pulls away from the island. A nagging feeling was rising in the back of my mind. “You wonder why none of them wanted to come to this island?” I suddenly question. 

“It does seem a little odd. Even the one we came on left pretty quickly. I’m sure it’s nothing important though!” Eijiro replies. 

I refuse to let it fly by. Something about that seems more wrong the more I think about it. Looking at Katsuki, he seems to be thinking the same way I am. The other four take off towards the tall trees not too far from the beach. With the sun being at its highest peak, the trees are casting a large shady area half over the beach. I’m a little jealous of how he’s carrying two of the tents and his backpack so effortlessly. 

Luckily they waited up ahead for us. “Seriously, if you and I weren’t around, I swear they’d have died of their crazy antics years ago.” He grunts in confirmation. Denki sees something and takes off in another direction. 

“Denki! Get your ass back here! We need to stick together for now!” I yell at him.

“Come here then! This place has weird blueberries!” 

Oh no. “Denki! Don’t eat them/Don’t even touch the fucking bush!” Katsukii and I yell simultaneously. We quickly get up to him with the other three trailing behind us. Katsuki goes right up to him and slaps the small black berry in his hand out of it. “You fucking dumbass, that’s nightshade!” 

Looking at the bush, it wasn’t just any nightshade. I facepalm. “We haven’t been here for even ten minutes and you already almost ate deadly nightshade.”

From the fear that grew on Denki’s face, he understood well the name of the plant and stepped away. “Whew, well, uh… Good thing I didn’t eat one yet, huh?” 

The only reply was Katsuki smacking Denki on his forehead. 

“I’m sorry! I won’t do it again!” He shrieks. 

Boisterous laughter comes from above. We look around, and my eyes catch onto a long tail draping across a few of the branches higher up. It was light green with darker green lines across and a pale yellow underside. “Good thing ya caught your friend! I was just about to stop him myself!” The large serpent body trickles to the floor like molasses until the too human-like torso comes down as well. His hair is incredibly long. It’s past where his torso ends and the snake part begins. He’s. Fucking. Massive. I look at Mina. “You didn’t tell me they were this big!” 

“How was I supposed to know!? The news never said anything about their size!” She yells at me. Katsuki goes into a fighting stance like he could actually do harm to the giant thing. Judging from the chest and face, it’s a male. His green eyes match the light green on his tail, and his hair matches his underside. 

The naga replies with another laugh, leans down, and pokes my nose. “Well, I am! And you guys must be curious humans, huh? There haven’t been any here in quite a while!” 

My brain is still trying to process how large he is. He’s longer than four of me together. An intrusive wanting of touching his tail pops up in my mind. Seriously!? I JUST saw him and want to touch him? What the everloving FUCK mind!?

He looks at our backpacks. “Ooh! Ya guys stayin’ for a few days? That’s great! You guys can tell me more about your place!” Mina wasn’t kidding about them seeming to be friendly. “Those bags seem heavy, would you like me to help?” 

I shake my head. “Nah, we got it. Do you know a place we could set up a camp though?” I ask him. He nods enthusiastically. “Yeah! There’s a pretty good open area by my cave!” He takes a sharp left turn with his body a little ways ahead of us. 

We all look at each other and shrug. He seems friendly enough. Well, Katsuki is the only one still not on board with being around the naga. The naga could be faking, but he seems pretty genuine. My bet is it just hurts Katsuki’s pride he wouldn’t be able to take the naga down himself if a fight breaks out. He’d still try though knowing him. 

The naga kept stopping and looking behind to make sure we were following. Most of us were falling a bit behind since he was still rather fast despite his constant stopping. It must have been about twenty minutes until we got into a clearing with a giant cave next to it. Denki is breathing rather heavily. He throws off his backpack and faceplants into the soft dirt. We all laugh at him, even the naga. Throwing my backpack off, I roll my already stiff shoulders. Man, how do hikers keep those giant backpacks on for so long? 

I look over at Katsuki. Once again, the all-powerful man doesn’t even need to do that. “Dude, I seriously envy you sometimes.” He rolls his eyes. “You’re just weak, dumbass. You’re also not used to it.”

“Hey, hey, hey! No need to be talkin’ like that! We’re all friends!”

Katsuki’s face goes into a snarl. “You can’t tell me what to do, you fucking overgrown lizard.” The naga has an astonished facial reaction for a second. “Sorry about him, he’s always like this.” Eijiro sheepishly informs. 

He shakes his head, and grows a smirk. “Well, good thing you’re all used to it! I gotta say, haven’t been called an overgrown lizard before! Also, shouldn’t it be ‘an overgrown reptile’?” He goes up to Katsuki and starts poking his forehead. “What other so-clever names ya got hidden up in there?” Katsuki tries to bite his finger, making him quickly pull his hand away. “Feisty!~” 

“We all kinda have a nickname he gives us. Mine’s shitty hair, but uh, please just call me Eijiro! What’s yours by the way?” He questions. 

His eyes widened. “Right! Name’s Hizashi! Ya probably heard of me at some point!” We all look confused at each other. “Nope, sorry, that name doesn’t ring any bells.” He grew sad for a moment about that, and mumbled something. 

I decided to try bringing him out of… whatever he’s getting into. “Mine is Y/N. The crabby one is Katsuki, the other blond is Denki, the pink-haired is Mina, and the black-haired one is Hanta. We may not have heard of you, but maybe you could tell us about yourself after we set up camp? As long as you’re truly okay with that.” I say, a little concerned we might still be intruding on his territory. 

“I’d love to! And of course you guys can stay around here for a while! It’s probably better since some nagas don’t like humans too much.” Katsuki crosses his arms. “Well, I dare them to take me on.” Hizashi pinches his cheek for a second, only to be nearly bitten again. “Aw, like ya could do much harm to us! Your enthusiasm is great though! They’d easily crush you.” 

“Oh yeah? Well, I’m not going down without a fight.” I roll my eyes at him. The others snicker at my reaction. “Anyways, we’re burning daylight. Let’s set up camp, and maybe our new friend could show us around a bit.” 

He mock bows. “Gladly, your highness!” Mina snickers and whispers “I ship it” jokingly. I give her a “really bitch?” look, making her almost keel over in silent laughter. It doesn’t take long for us all to take out our things and start setting up the tents. I pull out my rolled up sleeping bag to place next to the tent. “Yellow, huh?” Questions Hizashi. He gets a far-off look in his eyes for a second. I look down at the giant obnoxious yellow sleeping bag in my hands. 

“Not my choice of color, but it was on sale for a really good price, so I thought I might as well. Is there something wrong with it?” I ask. 

He shakes his head. “No, not at all! It just reminds me of another human that came here a while ago!” There was a look in his face that almost seemed obsessed. None of the others noticed the possibly red flag. Mina was too busy goofing off with Hanta and Denki, which were having trouble setting up their tent. Eijiro was trying to help Katsuki, but he kept messing Katsuki up, making him get multiple smacks on his head. 

“Is it okay to ask what happened to him?” His face turns into a harsh glare. It was easy to tell it wasn’t directed at me. “His “friends” took him from me when he left my cave one night. I waited years for him to return, but he never did. They must not be letting him return!” His tone went from angry, to sad, back to angry. 

Something doesn’t seem to add up with that. If he really wanted to return, he would have visited a while ago. Then again, it was pretty hard finding a boat to bring us here, and life can get hectic quite easily. I decided to put it in the back of my mind and focus on the now. 

The sound of tazing brought my attention to Denki, Mina, and Hanta. Mina has an electronic flyswatter in her hand, and smacked Denki with it. “Mina! That’s not what that’s for!” I yell at her.

She laughs. “Come on, it’s not hurting him too badly!” 

“Easy for you to say! How about I zap you now!?” He swipes it from her and smacks her forearm with it, making her shriek.  

I facepalm. “Which one of you idiots brought the flyswatter?” Hanta and Mina point at Denki. I glare at Mina. “What were you doing digging in his backpack when you could have been helping me put up the damn tent?” She replies with an embarrassed smile. 

I’m struggling to keep the tent up and push the tent pegs into the ground without a hammer. “I can help ya! What should I do?” Hizashi asks. “Could you help me push these in?” He nods and I move out of the way to hold the tent tight. He slams the tip of his tail on the peg, pushing it all the way down in one go. It honestly startles me. “Jeez dude! A little warning would be nice!” 

He rubs his neck sheepishly. “Sorry!” As we do the other three pegs, I can’t stop looking at his tail. He seems to notice, and wags the tip of it. “Like what ya see?” He teases. I look away in embarrassment. “Don’t worry about it! I was kinda the same way the first time I saw one of your kind!” He puts his tail in front of me. “I can tell you wanna touch it. Go ahead!” 

I’m unsure about it, but place my hand gently on the top of his tail. It was the back of it closer to his human torso. Nothing but raw muscle, and the heat it radiated was phenomenal. I quickly take my hand away. 

“You two are getting along well quick! And to think you didn’t want to come Y/N!” Mina comes up and teases. Hizashi seems surprised by hearing that news. “Aw, good thing ya did though! It’s already fun having you guys around!”

“Yeah, yeah. Enough of that stupid cheesy talk or whatever. Show us around.” Katsuki says half-heartedly like he really doesn’t want to be here. Hizashi ignores his lack of enthusiasm and nods with a smile. He then starts to move his body to the right of us. 

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

A few hours after, we arrive back to our camp exhausted. The sun was close to setting. Even Katsuki’s breathing was slightly ragged. We’ve learned a lot about this place.  Mostly not many nagas are too open to humans, and there aren’t that many due to most being quite territorial as well as females being rather rare. The four of them were horrified learning we could have met a bad end. Katsuki and I called it that they wouldn’t be too friendly. 

There is also the giant pile of wood he’s been collecting in case any humans visit. That’s so nice of him. He told us it gets pretty boring since not many talk to him, even the others on the other side of the giant island. That makes me feel rather bad for him. Of course, Mina being Mina, hugged him then. He returned the hug with no objections. He also told us the lifespan of nagas can be an average of 800 years. He himself is only about 300 years old. We all almost fainted from the shock of that. 

He helps haul a ton of rather large pieces of wood and sticks next to his cave. The pile was a bit farther out so it wasn’t in his way of his cave. Katsuki starts setting up the fire with a bunch of giant rocks that Hizashi still has around. It takes him no time at all to start a good fire. 

“Way to go dude! Knew you had the skills!” I tease. He glares at me in a way that shows he’s dangerously close to smacking me. I only give him a smirk in return. “Of fucking course, dumbass. Why would I not?” I shrug in reply.

“Hey, you guys want marshmallows? I brought a few bags.” Hanta says, grabbing a bag of marshmallows out of his backpack, along with two short roasters that can extend. 

“Sure dude, pass me the bag. I’d rather eat them not roasted.” Denki informs. Hanta passes him the bag while he extends the roasters and passes one to Eijiro. After Denki opens the bag, Hizashi reels away a little bit, catching my attention.

“You alright?” I ask him. “Heh, yeah! Those things just smell a little too sweet for me, ya know?” I nod in understanding. 

“Oh yeah, I guess it would be pretty weird, huh?” Mina wonders aloud. 

“Would you like us to put them away?” I ask. Denki hugs the bag of marshmallows to his chest. Hizashi shakes his head. “Nah, I’ll be fine. Thanks for being so considerate though!” 

After a bit, we decided to tell scary stories. The cheesy usual thing to do. Hizashi seems rather invested in every story told, no matter how bad it is. Right now, Mina is saying hers, and it’s actually pretty good. It’s about a male serial killer that fell obsessed with a male victim of his. The male refused to be with the killer for the obvious reason of them being a killer, and that they’re not interested in men. They were able to escape the chains the killer put them in, and picked up a large piece of a broken mirror that was near him. He decided to give the killer the element of surprise by pretending to still be chained.

“And so, while the killer’s back was turned, the male plunges the glass through the killer’s back!” she brings her hands up for some sort of dramatic emphasis. “They ran towards the still-chained other person and helped them pull the chains free while keeping an eye on the killer who fell to the ground. The man knew the killer was still alive, there was no way they died that quick. He helps the victim pass the killer and tries to pass himself, only to be grabbed by the ankle by the killer! He was still weak though, so it was easy enough for the man to break free and run outside. Luckily for them, they were in a neighborhood with a house not far away.”

We’re all honestly at the end of our seats listening intently. Well, minus Denki who seems rather terrified. Hizashi has an unreadable expression. 

“The neighbors were terrified, but called the police for help. The only problem?... There was no body on the floor when the police investigated. There was only blood. To make things scarier, the blood belonged to someone not in the system.” She grows quiet. 

“Is that it?” Denki questions. 

She shakes her head. “The man knew the killer would come for him again. He moved to the other side of the country. Everything seemed fine for him years later, starting his own family and moving on. At least, until he came home from work one night to a rather quiet home. He enters the home to the copper smell of blood overpowering him, bringing back memories he’s tried so hard to forget. He turns on the light to see his wife in her own blood, his blood freezing in fear. The familiar voice of the killer whispers behind him “You want a family? Well, now we can be.” and the last thing he saw was his children with nothing but fear tied up on the couch in the living room.” 

I was in shock that she said a story so dark. “Damn Mina, that was a wicked story! Where did you learn such a story?” I ask. 

“It was actually from a book a friend told me about!”

“They sure have a shitty taste in books.” Katsuki quips. 

“Like yours is probably much better, little boy scout.” I sarcastically reply. His fists clench. 

“Uh, hey! Maybe we should all go to bed! We have another big day tomorrow of exploring.” Eijiro pipes up, trying to prevent Katsuki from doing anything drastic. Katsuki growls and stomps off to his and Eijiro’s tent. 

Mina lets out a big yawn herself, stretches, and goes towards our tent. Denki and Hanta go to their tent as well. Hizashi puts a hand on my shoulder. “Hey, uh… Would ya mind hanging out with me for a while yet?” 

I shrug. “Sure, just let me get my sleeping bag.” I go and get it, Mina giving me a teasing smirk. “Don’t you get those thoughts in your head.” 

I drag the sleeping bag over close to the still burning fire. It grows quiet between us for a bit, the only sound being the crackling of the fire and the chirping of the crickets. His tail wraps around the bottom of my sleeping bag, trapping me from moving if I decided to by being around my feet. I reach down and pat his tail. 

“So, is there anything you want to talk about now?” I ask, lowering my voice to a near whisper so the others could sleep. “Well, how long are you guys planning on staying?” 

“After this, three days. We couldn’t get them to change the amount of days. It was so odd and hard getting here.” Hizashi perks up at that information. “Anyways, what are we doing tomorrow?” I ask. 

“Ooh! There’s a waterfall not too far from here I think you and your friends will like! It’s kinda hidden, and we’ll have to be careful since it will be close to two of my kinds territories, but as long as we don’t do anything it shouldn’t be a problem. One of them is the other most friendly naga I know! He may even come say hi!” 

“I bet Mina will be happy about that.” I felt more of his tail stealthily trying to go farther on my legs. 

“You’re really not being stealthy you know,” His tail stops. “Sorry. I just can’t help but wanting to touch someone as cute as you!~” 

Heat rushed to my face. “Well, you can hug me if you want. You just had to ask.”

He didn’t have to be told twice before his tail wrapped more around my sleeping and his bare torso went against my back. This isn’t exactly what I had in my head, but I did say hug. He’s still rather warm to the point of it slightly going through my sleeping bag. “How are you still so warm?” 

“This place usually doesn’t get that cold. My body’s most likely used to that.” 

“Makes sense I guess.”

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

I wake up to feeling something tight around me, and whispering. I can’t move my arms either. It’s obviously Hizashi. “Katsuki bro, you don’t have to do anything! He’s not hurting them.”

“I don’t fucking care. There’s something about that damn thing that isn’t sitting right!” 

“Aw, you truly care about-” Denki starts. He suddenly stops. 

“You’re probably just overreacting. We’ve only been here not even a full day. He’s still pretty friendly.” Eijiro sounds almost desperate. 

“That’s the thing you fucking dumbasses! Did you not hear him last night with Y/N? It’s not fucking-” 

“Well, mornin to you guys too!” Hizashi suddenly pipes up, silencing all of them. Ugh, it’s too early. I groan and nuzzle closer into his tail in front of me. I don’t feel like opening my eyes to look at them.

Hizashi laughs. “Morning to you as well!” 

I felt someone get close to me besides Hizashi. “Mina, I swear if you touch me with that fly swatter…” She steps away, confirming my prediction. “How did you know?”

“You dumbasses are known for doing such stupid things. Not really a surprise.” Katsuki replies. “Aw, Katsuki, you don’t have to be so mean about it!” Denki jokes. 

“Shut up guys. It’s too early.” I grumble. 

“Early? The sun is already half way to its highest point!” Hizashi replies with a teasing tone. I only reply with a groan again. 

Hanta clears his throat. “So, uh… What are we doing today?” 

“I already told Y/N last night, but we’re going to a waterfall today!”

“A waterfall? How did we not hear it on our walk yesterday?” Eijiro asks. “Simple! It’s the other direction over a cliff!” he states like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “C-cliff? Isn’t that dangerous?” Denki asks. 

“We will be fine! I’ve done it many times before!” 

“If you say so…” Eijiro replied, sounding quite unsure. 

Hizashi unwraps around me almost reluctantly. He rubs the top of my head, waking me up a bit. “C’mon, ya gotta get up so we can go Y/N!” I ignore them and try to sleep again, using my arms as a pillow since Hizashi is no longer by my head. 

“Tzzt” Something touched my arm and sent a sharp pain through my arm. I instantly knew what it was, and I am NOT happy. I get up instantly. “Minaaaa!”

“Oh shit!” She drops the electric fly swatter and takes off running behind Hizashi. 

Denki and Hanta start laughing. “Get her Y/N!!!” Hizashi blocks me with his hands and holds Mina by his tail while chuckling. It wasn’t light like usual though. This sounded slightly darker if that makes sense. All I know is it sent a chill up my spine. I glare hard at Mina. 

“Now, I know whatever that thing was woke ya up, but let’s not focus on that, and let’s get going to the waterfall, yeah? If you want, I could carry you for a bit more sleep!” I back away in embarrassment. “That’s okay. Let’s just get going then.” 

He laughs normally again and lets go of Mina. 

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

It didn’t take too long to start climbing the cliff  to the waterfall. The crashing waves of it is able to be heard in the distance. Hizashi is leading the way with us rather close. It’s getting rather narrow and crumbling with a really high view in front of us. It’s beautiful with the trees, but terrifying how one step can make you fall off the edge. More ground crumbles under my shoe. My foot is basically off the edge at this point. I look up at Hizashi. I’m right beside him while the others are a bit back. “This seems like a bad idea. I think this is more-” My foot slips and I start to fall. My heart feels like it stopped. “Shit!”  

“Y/N!” they all yell. Faster than someone can even blink, Hizashi’s tail wrapped around my torso before I got too far down the cliff. I look down to see a very deep drop that would obviously kill me, but what was even more concerning was the naga looking up at me. It has to be twice the size of Hizashi. 

Hizashi kept a very tight grip on my torso as my legs shakily kept trying to give out as he had me stand up. We all stopped for a moment. “That’s it, fuck the waterfall. This isn’t worth going for.” Katsuki says, even more angry than usual. 

I can feel Hizashi shaking as well. “Heh, that was not a part of the plan. We’ll be going down towards the waterfall soon. I’ll see if Toshinori would let me bring you guys through his territory on the way back.” 

“Well, why didn’t we do that in the first place!? Y/N could have died!” Eijiro exclaims. “I’ll admit, I thought the fear would be funny. Definitely not now!” 

He kept me closer to him as we went down the cliff. It felt better the closer the even ground came to be. The giant naga I saw earlier comes fast into our view. He has a bright golden tail that matches his hair. The most obvious part of him is a giant scar on his side. His eyes show great concern. “Are you all okay!? I saw what  happened a bit ago,” His eyes squinted at Hizashi. “And I TOLD you to stop taking that way with visitors!” 

Hizashi replies with a teasing roll of his eyes, but it’s showing that he understands and does regret taking that route. “Very shaken up, but fine I think.” I reply. It wasn’t until now I noticed how the waterfall is much louder. He nods. “That’s a relief. I take it you’re going to the waterfall?” 

We nodded. Mina quickly goes up to him. ‘Hey, what’s your name by the way? Mine’s Mina!” 

He grows a kind and friendly smile on his face. “Toshinori. Nice to meet all of you. We haven’t had any humans visit in quite a while.” In quite a while? So people DID used to come here. That’s making the unnerving feeling rise up again. Something must have happened to make them stop coming. But what could it possibly be? These two are friendly. Is it because they might be the only ones that are friendly? Maybe he’d know. I could ask Hizashi, but something feels like that’s a bad idea. 

Mina suddenly pulls out a camera. “You brought a camera?” I asked. “Well, duh! I forgot earlier if I could take pictures of them, but seeing the one even bigger than Hizashi reminded me!” she looks up at Toshinori. “Could we take some pictures to show my other friends?” he perks up at that. “Why, of course! Why not wait until we get to the waterfall? We could do a group one!” 

Mina fist-bumps the air. “Yes! In front of the waterfall would be a GREAT view! Let’s go!” 

The rest of us told our names to him, well, Eijiro did for Katsuki again, on our way to the waterfall. Hizashi still hasn’t let go of me. Toshinori’s brows seem to crease in worry about that. I pat his tail twice. “Uh… Hizashi? Could you let me go now?” He does reluctantly. Mina giggles again. I decide to ignore it. The waterfall was finally in view, making the others grow more excited. Toshinori was farther ahead with the others. 

Now would probably be a good time to ask Toshinori a few things. “Why don’t you go ahead with my friends for a bit? I want to ask Toshinori a few things I’d like him to answer personally if he can.” He almost seems to go on guard after hearing that, but makes himself relax. “What about? Ya gonna talk about me?” He teases. 

“No! Of course not! I want to hear the story about that crazy scar on his side.” I lie. The scar might be interesting, but there are more important things at the moment. He seems unsure of my answer, but nods and heads up to lead the way. 

“I need to ask you a few things.” He looks down at me. “Is it about my scar?” I shake my head. “No, I want to know if you know why no humans want to come here lately.” He looks at Hizashi, who I can swear started moving more slowly, then back to me. He nods. 

“Do you know why humans no longer want to come to the island?” His smile disappears. “To prevent you from being afraid, all I will say is it’s safer for you to leave the island sooner than later.”  

My face scrunches up in frustration and confusion. “That doesn’t make sense! Why though? What could be here you guys couldn’t help us from?” 

“At least a little more information, dumbass.” Katsuki pipes up from behind me. Toshinori shakes his head and goes back to the others. I look beside me to see Katsuki crossing his arms. “I still don’t trust these overgrown lizards. Especially now.” 

“You and I both. Well, I trust they aren’t going to kill us, but I don’t trust they’re not telling us what they should.”

“It’s good we’re staying here two less days.” I look at him confused. “What do you mean?” 

“I told them to make it two less days, or when we get back I’d make their lives hell. I wanted to be here the least amount possible.” 

“Are you sure they’ll listen? They might leave us here if you threatened them.” He grew a sadistic smirk. “Kyoka is making sure.” I shake my head while smiling at him. “Always the ever-clever one, huh?” 

“Someone has to be since you dumbasses sure won’t.” I roll my eyes at him again. “Can’t argue with that. 

.

.

. 

Nerd.” I take off running to catch up without looking back, afraid of being smacked if caught. “Y/N!!!” He angrily screams, and it’s easy to tell he’s running after me. “Hahahaha!” I ran past Hizashi. His tail slams down between Katsuki and I. “Let’s save rough play for later, yeah?” 

I pout. “Aw, Hizashi, you’re no fun!” 

He pouts back. “No fun? I’m PLENTY of fun! C’mere!” He wiggles his fingers, signifying what he’s going to do. I shriek and jump away, but with no success since he's faster and uses his tail to get me stuck in place. 

“That’s enough Hizashi.” Toshinori harshly says, and takes me out of Hizashi’s grip, keeping his body closer to mine so Hizashi can’t. 

The others seem confused by Toshinori’s reaction, but shake it off. Katsuki glares harder at the two nagas. I decide to ignore everything and look at the waterfall. It’s really high up and beautiful. I stop. “Hey, wouldn’t this be a good area for the picture? We could get a large portion of the waterfall in it!” 

Mina quickly takes out her camera again from her pocket. “Yes! Let’s do it!” We get situated. Toshinori is on my right with Eijiro and Mina. Katsuki stays close on my left with Hizashi next to him, with Hanta and Denki unnecessarily crouching in front of him and doing the peace sign. Toshinori grabs the camera with his tail and is able to hold it out to hopefully show all of us in it. No doubt Katsuki isn’t going to smile in it. 

He took a few, and they all turned out great. We then wander close to the bottom of the waterfall where there’s a rather slow stream that goes half way up my calves. I know since we all took our shoes off and entered the shallow stream with the nagas not too far away just in case. While the others are messing around and throwing water at each other, I saw a really cool looking rock a bit farther in the water. It’s in a bit deeper water though… I could possibly ask someone to help. Nah. I look over to see Hizashi being busy talking with Toshinori. It doesn’t seem too friendly whatever they’re talking about judging by their movements. Katsuki is fairly close to them without them realizing, and he doesn’t seem happy with whatever he’s hearing. His face is crunched even more than usual. 

I look down towards the rock again and reach for it. The water goes up past my shoulder, getting my shirt wet. The current in that part is much stronger, almost making me lose my balance. My hand touches it, and I try to bring it up. It’s rather stuck in the ground. I firmly grip it and yank it. It comes free, kicking up a lot of dirt with it. Rinsing it in the water a bit more, it came out clean and was a rather large agate. It’s the size of my palm. A really cool one with multiple lines in it too. I dry it a bit on the bottom of my shorts and put it in my pocket. 

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

The day went by rather quickly until we returned to our camp. Toshinori didn’t come with us, much to Mina’s dismay. We definitely got some kind of sunburn today. Denki looks like he’s gotten the worst of it. Katsuki nearly slapped him until I prevented it. I’d rather not hear how loud he can scream in pain. 

We didn’t feel like doing stories tonight. “Ugh, after this, I don’t think I’m ever going outside again.” Denki complains. “You will, even if I have to drag you.” Katsuki threatens. “Aw, big old buff boy truly does have a heart for us!” I tease. He harshly slaps my shoulder. “Point taken.” I say in a bit of pain. “You shouldn’t hurt your friends like that.” Hizashi pipes up being next to me on my right. Katsuki ignores him. “Forgot to mention, the boat will be here tomorrow to pick us up.” Hizashi tenses up. 

“How do you know that?” Hanta asks. “It’s Katsuki, how else?” I reply. “But we’re having so much fun here! And Hizashi has helped tell me so much about nagas!” Mina whines. “True. well, it was fun while we were here though!” I look at Hizashi. “Thanks for that!” He nods. “Of course!” Something didn’t feel too genuine or enthusiastic with his answer. I heard Hanta snoring. He must have passed out not too long ago. 

Eijiro yawns. “Man, today sure was fun though! Hopefully we can come back some day!” Katsuki and I share a look. “Yeah! It’s hard to find a boat to take us though, so it might be a while.” I inform, trying my hardest to not give away that we won’t be coming back. 

“Hey, Katsuki, could you bring Hanta to our tent? I can’t carry him.” 

“No. The dumbass fell asleep out here, he can stay out here.” Eijiro rolls his eyes at him. “I’ll do it.” He gets up and bridal carries Hanta to the tent with Denki following. Mina goes to ours. Katsuki pulls me close. “Don’t trust that fucking naga. Stay away from him.” He hisses, gets up, and goes to his tent. What was that about? He hasn’t been wrong before though, so it might be best to listen. It stayed silent for a while after Eijiro went to his tent and most likely everyone was asleep. 

I put my hands in my pockets and felt the rock. “I want to give you something to remember us by when we leave,” I take out the rock and give it to him. Something glinted in his eyes and he took it and cupped it with both hands like it was the most fragile thing in the world. A feeling is telling me I just made a big mistake. Why though? It’s just a rock? “It’s not much, but maybe you’ll like its memories?” 

“I’ll definitely treasure it!” his voice becomes more quiet. “Just like I’ll always treasure you.” He means like everything we’ve done the past two or so days, right? 

“Well, goodnight Hizashi!” I say, and go towards Mina and I’s tent. “Could we please do the same thing as last night? As a parting gift or something? It will get so lonely again.” His tone became rather saddened. I almost gave in on pity for him. I remember Katsuki’s words though, and try to think of an excuse. Right! Sunburn! “Sorry Hizashi. I really don’t want to be touched tonight, especially with this sunburn. That will hurt.” 

“Maybe the cold of my cave could help with that! Why don’t we try that?” He sounds desperate. Him being desperate sends off another red flag in my head.

“Sorry. I’d rather be alone tonight.” I say and enter my tent, zipping it up. 

He must have given up since he goes quiet after that. It doesn’t take long after that for sleep to start to overtake me. 

.

.

.

.

.

. 

...Did the zipper just open? I was too tired to check. It’s most likely nothing.

[em0avacado]

They say

( Coco Cruz x Reader )

a/n : this is how i cope, don’t mind me, i’m just breaking my own heart.

trigger warnings : none i don’t think? except heart break, sadness. ends happy tho. i think. maybe.

word count : 2.4k

They say that, if you love something, let it go. If it comes back, it was meant to be, if it doesn’t? well you just couldn’t accept that. You’d poured every ounce of yourself into him, you’d told him all your fears, all your pet peeves, all your insecurities, because you trusted him. You’d accepted all his weird quirks, all the strange habits he had that you looked past, youd accepted him for who he was, as you do when you love someone as much as you loved him. You supported him, mentally and physically, from up close and from far away. You encouraged him, reminded him of little things he easily forgot, you told him every day how proud you were of him, how loved and appreciated he was.

He used to do the same for you, used to. But at some point, he began holding back, he stopped doing things he started doing to win you over. You used to have a list of pet names hed call you when he babied you, now it was just ‘baby’ if he was in a good mood, or [Y/N]. You noticed it as soon as it started, you noticed everything. You knew he was stressed so you didn’t want to push it, but you also know that “stressed” was a norm for Coco, so you couldn’t wrap your head around it entirely. He started coming home later, crashing on the couch in hopes of “not disturbing your sleep.” it sounded like an excuse to you, and it hurt. it really fucking hurt you.

At some point, you’d had enough of your boyfriend distancing himself like that, ignoring your feelings, ditching you when you needed him, you couldn’t live that way, you wouldn’t. So, when he came home, you’d waited up for him, sitting at the small kitchen table you both used to enjoy your breakfast on every Sunday, now it stood empty, with nothing but a stack of newspapers from the passing weeks piled on it. With a bit of liquid courage crashing against the rocks of ice as you swirled the brown liquid around in the cup, your eyes felt red with fire, and your cheeks were stained with few dried tears that rolled down your face as your mind came up with the worst possible results you could imagine, all to which, came true. With a jingle of his keys in the lock, you straightened your posture, looking at him.

“What’re you doing up?” he asked her, that same vacant look on his face.

“I wanted to talk”

“it can wait till morning.”

“it really can’t.” with that, she was met with utter annoyance, and an obnoxious scoff that made her blood boil.

“go on then.”

“you’ve distanced yourself, so hard. I barely see you. We don’t sleep in the same bed, I can’t remember the last time you touched me, hell, even looked at me like you used to. What’d I do?” that was your go to, blaming yourself. It’s how you dealt with the unexplained.

“Get off my ass, [Y/N].” He dismissed you, you watched as he pulled off his kutte, and settled into the couch. You kept your eyes on him, murder on your mind. God he irritated you, you wanted to take his neck between your hands and wring it. Maybe that’d breathe some sense into him, if you deprived him of oxygen a little. But you didn’t need another felony charge, you inhaled deeply, balling your fists, the sting of your nails digging into the palm of your hand bringing you back from picturing all the ways you’d brutally murder him, out of love, of course.

If you loved someone... you’d refrain from strangling them, you turned from the spot you stood, and headed into the bedroom. You did the breathing exercises your therapist had taught you, but they worked only slightly. You grabbed a duffel bag, and started shoving clothing into it, as much as you could, you pushed all the belongings you’d need the next few days, and zipped it up. Pulling on a hoodie, you tossed the bag over your shoulder, and headed out. You walked passed him without a word, when you went to grab your car keys, you did the only petty thing you’d let yourself, trying to be the better person, you hid every single key to everything you had, knowing how easily he lost keys, you’d help him, in your own favour, however.

You left, and you didn’t look back. You couldn’t. The mere thought of Coco made you tear up, and it didn’t help that every tiny thing made you think about the lost love that still caused your chest to feel like it was about to concave. This wasn’t natural, you hadn’t felt like this, you were the queen of bottling up emotions, and ignoring them so you didn’t feel the pain of anything. But as you lived and breathed, everything reminded you of him.

You were in the middle of a girls lunch date, it’d been weeks since your seen your girlfriends since you’ve been trying to isolate yourself trying to get over this man, in the midst of drinking mimosas on the balcony of one of those entirely too fancy restaurants, you were laughing at highschool memories of your best friend who would start fights in the halls because she was bored, it was then, when a roar of motorcycles sped past where you were sitting, and it threw you into a whirl wind of emotions.

“make sure you hold on tight, mamas. Wouldnt want you to fall off.” the smirk heard in Coco’s voice sent a chill down your spine, being too intimidated by any sort of physical contact, usually, you usually ease yourself into it, but with Coco? It was brash and sudden, he started the bike, and gave you maybe a millisecond to grab a hold on him.

A little squeal forced its way out of your mouth as you quickly grabbed onto him, gripping onto your own hands, clinging to him. You buried your face in his shoulder. You felt him chuckle, and wanted to knock him out right then and there, but perhaps that wasn’t the best idea. It took you a moment, but once you opened your eyes, and watched as buildings, cars, people, hills and piles of dirt passed you by, trees whipping by. You felt yourself calm, you felt at peace. The wind flipped through your locks of hair, his scent filling your senses.

“This isn’t that bad.” you heard yourself admit in a soft mumble, you shut your eyes and felt the wind attack your face, balancing your inner battles with yourself. You felt peace in Coco, he tamed your chaos, and you his. God, what you’d give to feel like this all the time, but you only felt it with him.

You felt your throat burn, your bottom lip lodged itself between your teeth, and you did your best to fight the rage that tinged your eyes with tears. Your friends saw this, noticing immediately, the emotion that washed over your face, paling your features and dimming a smile that brought them laughter that lasted for days. You’d always been the group clown, with the loudest laugh, the brightest smiles, you were the one they’d all turn to when they couldn’t hold themselves up. You were a force to be reckoned with, you fought their battles when they couldn’t even hold themselves up. You never failed to show up with booze and ice cream to heal broken hearts. You brought things that made you think of friends, you remembered the finest details and came through every time. You listened to the quietest ones, heard every story, laughed at the lamest jokes. Seeing you with tears streaming involuntarily down your face as you tried to hide it, wiping them as fast as they came, it broke their collective hearts. They looked at one another, an unspoken question “how do you skip to the part of the storm that sprouts the flowers when the rain stops?”

Your relationship with sleep was toxic, it came and went as it pleased, your eyes were sunken, it was three A.M. and you felt your thoughts running through your mind a million miles a minute. Your head in your hands as another memory floated to the surface.

Panic overwhelmed you, hearing something, or someone, rustling around the kitchen, you grabbed the gun you kept tucked under your mattress. You cocked it, and took the safety off, holding it out in front of you in a defensive position. You opened your creaking door, the noise working at your nerves as you creeped into the kitchen where the only thing that illuminated the dark room was the bulb from the old white fridge. You watched silently as the head ducked from inside the fridge, you found it peculiar, but all you saw was a figure in your home you didn’t know. Getting closer, you held the barrel of the gun to the head of the man that stood in your kitchen.

“Hands up, Foo. Before I blow your brains all over my backsplash.” You threatened, your voice tense, and you were met with laughter that was all too familiar. Furrowing your brows, you were still panicked, not thinking straight. You shifted the gun so the bullet that was about to fly, only ripped through his hair. The shot rang loud, causing Coco, who you didn’t know was Coco, to crash to the ground.

“Crazy bitch!” he shouted, you flicked on the light, still having the gun pointed at him. Your eyes widened quickly, the man on your floor was Coco, and now there was a bullet lodged into your ceiling. You could kiss your security deposit goodbye, fuck, and you just shot at Coco. You put the safety back on, and set it on your counter before going to help him. A few minutes passed before both of you sat in fits of laughter, him mocking your voice, your words.

Coco told you so many times that the night you nearly shot him in the head, was the night he fell for you entirely. Sure, he’d known you were the one way before that. That night, though, he knew he was in love with you. That night he swore he’d break past your barriers, he’d demolish how you saw yourself, he taught you to love you, he made you promises to show you love like no other, and to show you that you didn’t have to be afraid of either physical and emotional aspects of love. He did do exactly that, but then ripped it away from her. Leaving her heart with him, and her chest feeling heavy with nothing. Once again tears were brought to your eyes, you were thankful for his love, but without it? you wished you’d never had experienced it in the first place. Maybe you wouldn’t be hurting now.

You were brought out of your train of thought by the knocking on your door, furrowing your brows, you got up from your spot on the counter, where you were thinking of better times, you looked through the peephole and it felt like someone took a vacuum to your weak lungs. Coco. Struggling to breathe proper, you just intended on ignoring him, it was the first time in months youd seen him and you didn’t know if you could handle it. Your heart screamed at you to let him in, he looked beat up, tired, and one of his eyes was bandaged up, he looked broken. you wanted to embrace him, forget the distance, but your mind scolded you, reminding you of the progress youd made, bouncing back from the pain oh so slowly. This could set it all back. So you decided, you wouldn’t open the door. He’s a big boy. You silently turn on your heel, away from the door.

“I’m sorry.” you heard him rasp, and you froze in your spot, a deer caught in headlights. You couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. “I know you’re there, I know you’re awake and I know you know it’s me. You have your kitchen light on, so I saw you stand on your toes to look through the peephole because you’re too short.” you cursed his observant ways, how well he knew you, like he had quirk notes tattooed on the back of his hand and read them like a bible. “I’m sorry I didn’t notice when you left, that I was too deep in my own world to see how me fading away for my own selfish needs was hurting you. I’m sorry I made it seem like I didn’t care, that it hurt you, I’m sorry that I made promises and broke them. I started thinking about things I never knew I wanted until you marched your stubborn self in my life and gave me a taste of a love that changed me. It scared the fuck out of me.”

That familiar burn of emotion lit up your head, and singed your chest. You let his words sink in, you couldn’t speak, not yet. Squeezing shut your eyes, you turned back to the door, setting your hand on the knob. You felt the door shift, like he’d gotten up from leaning his head against the poorly tinted wood. He got it, you could feel him prepare to walk away. If you love something, let it go. But Coco came back. He came back. You unlocked it, and turned the knob. Looking at him through sore eyes. “Running when you’re scared isn’t an option for me.” you said, defeat obvious in your voice. He stopped, turned to you and closed in quick. You pushed his hands away. “You can’t - You can’t just show me, tell me, and hold it to me that i shouldn’t shut you out, and i should trust you, and i should turn to you before anyone and anything else only to turn around and do that to me. You can’t do that and come running back.” you practically yelled at him, your voice shaking and raw.

“I know, I know I’m sorry.” he said, his hands dropping to his sides when you reached forward and yanked him in with all your might. The gesture was aggressive, sure. But pure.

“i’m sorry too.” you muttered, embracing him tightly.

—

tag list :

@queenbeered

@mayans-sauce

[outerbanx-4]

Dang Kooks

Prompt;; JJ and you had been friends since you could remember. While JJ being on the more “kook bad pogue good people” you tended to, while understanding where he came from, were a little more lenient. Until the day you ran into Rafe Cameron.

WARNINGS ;; Violence, angst, swearing, sexual content(no actual smut), fluuf(slight)

`this is my first time writing anything, so it will most likely be TRASH.

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The air was muggy on the cut today, pretty much clinging to your body the whole time you were walking back from John Bs chateau. You couldn't believe how hot it has been recently and were praying that it would cool off, even just for a day. The walk from the chateau to your house was a fairly quick one, passing by familiar landmarks with the dirt road underfoot. You surprised yourself a little when you decided to choose a different route home. 

Deep in thought about what you and your fellow crew were going to do later in life you had wandered a bit further away from your house then you had noticed. You were known to space out, “lost in the twilight zone” as JJ called it, from time to time especially while walking home.  Coming up to an older playground where the swings were broken and the latter to the slide was missing rungs here and there you decided to sit and think.

Without realizing almost an hour has passed, looking at your phone and the screen lighting up to tell you that it indeed was 5pm and you told your parents you'd be home by 430p to help set up for dinner, you got up and made your way towards the road and back to your house. While on your way you took note of the broken tree branches, and just the general unkempt state of the lawns you passed by. While unkempt isn't really unusual for this part of the cut, the storm that had recently brandished its way through the island seemed to only make it much worse. Sighing you kicked some rocks as you walked. 

“Now should someone as pretty as you really be walking by herself?” you heard a voice call out from behind you making you jump in surprise and go to retort about how you are indeed and big girl and can handle yourself the gravelly voice continues his words “especially with how some of you pogues act. Never know who you're going to run into” 

Rolling your eyes you turn around and groan inwardly as you see the one and only Rafe Cameron. Everybody knew him. He was the worst of the worst. With the second worse being Topper of course. Sanding there in his stupid khaki cargo shorts and expensive pink polo he eyed you up and down in a way that made your skin crawl just by standing in his presence. “What are you doing here Rafe? I thought you hated this side of the island?” the contempt and hatred flowing through your syllables easily. 

“Oh I thought what a beautiful day it was and thought to myself.. Hmmmm where can i go find some cheap pussy?” he wiggled his eyebrows at you in a suggestive manner. Looking closer in his face because even though you know rafe cameron is a horrible person you even couldn't believe he would be this horrible and nasty. Low and behold you noticed that his pupils were dilated almost to the point of his entire eye being an ominous jet black shade. 

“You’re gross Rofe Cameron, why dont you go find some stupid touron or kook to take advantage of?” you asked as you turned back around and started to walk away. By now you had managed to make it closer to your house. Breathing a slow sigh of relief you hoped you would be able to make it home without any more issues. 

Suddenly you felt a hand grab your wrist and yank you backwards, and as your body unwillingly followed the momentum of the pull and your head whipped around to see who it was that happened to be touching you you noticed; you didn't know if you noticed because you were now scared or because of something else, something e;se you had started to notice had been happening recently. You where right in front of your best friends house, and while he was generally not at home and at the chateau you hoped and prayed and sent everything you could that he was home, because it was Rafe who had grabbed you and pulled you into his chest. One of his arms securing you, unwantedly, up against his body making you let out a groan.

“Rafe seriously let me go!” you all but yelled, purposely talking louder in hopes someone would hear you. Your best friend, the neighbors, your parents, heck even your best friends horrible father! Just anyone that would come and pry this ass off of you. Instead of letting go he pulled you in tighter. Chuckling he spoke quietly into your ear “Shhhhh now baby you know you're enjoying this.” and with that he grabbed at your ass and latched his mouth onto your neck. At this point you were helplessly flailing your arms in any hopes that one of the many hits your arms did would make him release you.  At one point he let his teeth sink into your neck which caused you to let out a squeal that you couldn't contain and made him grunt in approval.

Suddenly Rafes entire body pressure was off of you and not pushing up against you and within not eve none second the muffled thudding of someone's fist flying into Rafes cheek bone was evident. Stumbling but catching your step you saw the tall silhouette of your best friend, JJ, standing in front of Rafe, his toned arm rippling with each punch he threw, you could see that blood started to pour as each time his fist drew back his knuckles where coated.

“JJ! JJ! Stop please, hes down im safe!” You cried and you ran up to him and grabbed onto his arm as he raised it. Knowing how JJ got in these you knew you had to something more as he threw another punch ripping through your mesly grasp. “J come on please stop!”

Thinking for a minute at how mad he would be if ke knew what you were about to do, hed scold and yell andbe mad but there was no one else here to hold him , to stop him. Pope went home to study, John B and Sarah were out doing god knows what and Kie’s parents where making her work all day. You had nothing else to do.

Watching as Rafe stumbled backwards stood up and he'd managed to get a good swing in and landing it right on JJs perfect peach mouth, and you saw his lip rip open an start to bleed, and his normally sparkling cerulean blue eyes seemed to be a dark and stormy grey color. His fist reached back again and about to step towards Rafe. This is when you make your move, running and standing in front of him grabbing his wrist again and yelling more worried this time.

“JJ please stop!” His eyes snapped to yours for a second, still stormy as they bore down into your eyes, they flicked back to Rafe and he tried to push forward again. You dug your feet into the ground and brought your other hand up to graze his cheek and pulled his face down again. The eclectic sparks shooting through your body surprised you a little as the radiated from each and every touchpoint that you had on his face. 

“Ya JJ listen to your girlfriend just stop” Rafe mocked your  voice as you held JJs face now in both hands as his fist started to lower slightly. The storm started to clear out of his eyes a little as he finally looked at you and slowly nodded. Stepping back he moved slowly out of your embrace and glared at Rafe. USing his voice for the first time, “Stay off the cut you damn kook, no one wants you here.” 

Turning away you both followed him, that is until all of a sudden Rafe  spoke up and said the one thing he never should have, “Yeah ok Maybank but make sure you keep your girlfriend in line, stop letting her dress like a fucking skank.”

You knew it was over and JJ just turned and smashed Rafe a hard one to the jaw and Rafe fell to the ground blood gushing from his nose as his eyes rolled back. JJ just grabbed your hand and walked you towards his house. “Y/N you ok? Did he hurt you?”

Shaking your head you relished the feeling of his rough hands in yours, he stopped in front of his house and lightly cupped your cheek and gazed into your eyes. His eyes seeming to be released of the storm, he leaned down and pressed his lips firmly to yours. Releasing your lips fro his but keeping his forehead on yours he goes “I promise i will always be here for you to protect you. I love you babe “

  Smiling and pressing your lips against his again you mumbled “i love you too JJ”

He pulled away and started leading you to your house. 

“Dang kooks.”

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ok i know its terrible im sorry but it just fell into my head