#and ive always liked this scene where she pushes him against her neck it makes me so ;;

[aro-attorneys]

Hey

Eliade touching Krory's hair Like That

[hella1975]

Hella something incredibly traumatic just happened to me.  I cannot find the original list thingy i have for chapter 42.  (i was like half way through and then stopped i dont remember why) so i have to start over which isnt a bad thing because i get to reread ittt

Your getting 42 and 43 in one thing 

“It had been one day and one night since they left the Western Air Temple and Zuko had a headache.” sme one get this poor boy some tylenol

Bros extremely overstimulated

“Nanook expected they’d arrive at the White Lotus camp-”  i forgot theyre going to the white lotus camp again and if irohs there still thats going to be really fun.  (probably not for zuko though)

I love your sokka so much its insane.  

It always takes me so long to read your chapters and write these and stuff not because of the length of your chapters (i love long chapters) but because i always try to process every single little thing because its so good and a lot of the stuff doesnt even make it into the list because i dont know how to put it into words and thats how i feel about the dynamic youve created around zuko and sokka.  Like how you took Sokkas canon traits and magnified them to accommodate the traits zuko got threw taob perfectly and theres something so artistic about it and i wish i had the words to better explain how in awe of you i am every time i read a new chapter.

Anywho

“If he spoke them, if he let them out, his friends would snatch these birds from the sky and beat them to death, and they would call it salvation.” oh my fucking god hella what the fuck

Zi Se <3

Oh jeez now he’s hallucinating

I love Zi Se.  Having Zuko take care of a small child is such a unique thing to have in a fic and you make it work so well.  Every scene between them is immaculate

The way you portray trauma is incredible.  The ‘two steps forwards one step back’ ness of it, and the way different peoples traumas rub against eachother and the lashing out and guilt and stuff its really so good.  

I think its funny to think about external zuko in taob.  Like a wet dog growling at everyone and pushing itself into a corner.  A little tragic, a little pathetic.  And then in his head he’s having some of the most profound, angsty thoughts.  And the transition between those scenes is also entertaining.  

I also really like the dynamic Zuko has with the entirety of the gang.  Like it’s not just sokka going ‘i can fix him’ and doing it, its a group effort and the different peoples individual traits work well with helping different parts of zuko heal.  When he needs sternness and bluntness, theres sokka, when he needs something more gentle, theres tomnook, and when he needs something in between theres katara.  

I saw your authors notes that was like ‘i’m writing another zukka fic!’ and i was so confused for a moment and i was like ‘wtf is she talking about’ and then it was like ‘you can read it here!’  and i was like ;holy shit its already posted!?  Why didnt she tell tumblr about this and then i was like ‘oh shes talking about tams.’  i forgot it was a zukka fic.  

That took me 3 hours.  

Anywho 

Chapter 43:  : )

“Gradually, things got easier and they fell into a routine.” well thats a relief i hope nothing bad will happen ever again : )

“Suki wasn’t far from him, dipping her water flask into the current,”  of topic but i dont get how people didnt just drop dead from drinking random ass water like how is suki not going to get dysentary.  Sokka needs to invent these people a water filter.

Im carefully treading ocross this chapterbecause of the stuff ive seen from tumblr and discord and while i guess i trust you not to kill tomnook *this chapter* im still very weary and terrified.  

Being american means that you might not be able to afford to read taob bc of the inevitable therapy bill

If i get ptsd from this i quit

Anywho

““Zuko, dude, buddy.” Sokka appeared from where he’d been washing his frankly disgusting tunic, now leaving it to drip around his neck, shirtless as he clapped a hand to Zuko’s shoulder. “If a girl calls you roguish, it’s a compliment.”” Bros projecting

“ this seemed to bother Sokka more than anyone. Hot stuff was one of her favourites, which Zuko thought made sense. He was a firebender, after all. It really didn’t warrant the spluttering and indignance Sokka met it with, stomping over to Suki and kicking water at her while she cackled.” Still projecting

If Tomnook becomes canon i will personally see to starting a movement across all social media platforms similar to the november 6th destiel thing

“He was still smiling. Always smiling. Nanook let him go.” THIS IS THE PART THAT DESTROYED ME????????????????????????????????????? IT WAS ABOUT HAIRR????????????????????/ im actually going to kms oh my god im suing

I experienced so much turmoil for it literally to just be tomkin walking away

Im so insulted

Also nanook definitely has a crush on him just in case you didnt know 👍

Now Kataras overstimulated

“Zuko had taken the carrots.” God dammit Zuko 

If Sokka or Katara find the carrots that wont be good

I dont trust you anymore

““There’s something you’re not telling me,” she said, staring out at the grass around them, the stars in the inky sky. It was the exact same as when they’d sat together the other day, hand in hand, when she’d first admitted to this anger.

Zuko was tense beside her, before sighing in defeat. “This is about the carrots, isn’t it?”  This is so funny for no reason 

““I could probably help you find those men, if you wanted,””  you fucking idiot i cant believe him

“He liked liked Zuko, with his stupid, roguish hair and his muscles and his gentle way of handling Zi Se and his stupid sense of humour and his sheer, stubborn will to keep going. How could Sokka ever talk to Bato again? This was the worst thing to happen ever,”  ITS HAPPENING 

I NEED THAT ONE GIF FROM THE OFFICE JFC

OH MY GOD

I CANT BREATH

The fact that he immediately thought of bato is so iconic i love that for him

The whiplash sokka must feel from coming to terms with his feelings for zuko and that he’s able to grieve his mom and then katara coming out like ‘yeah im going to murder him’ must be insane its like that cat in the hat meme where hes going to hit the dude with the bat

I dont think that conversation went like suki planned for it to

Zukkkaaa fight

THEYRE HUGGIN THIS IS NOTA DRILL OGM

“Katara wouldn’t kill those men.” oh thank fuck

“. local boy discovers the uno reverse card immediately makes it everyone else's problem.”  Lmfao 😂  💀

You have never written a bad anything hella lm tell you.  2 10/10 chapters good job, that was fabulous, i love it.  

Im in a class this semester that deals with analyzing literature and reading a lot of like ‘classic’ books.  And the entire time im reading these books some that are considered to be from some of the best authors of all time is that im comparing them to the things youve written and when ive said that your such a talented writer before, i dont know how much ground ive had to stand on but now that i have like a (very small) reference point for that stuff, holy shit you are such a talented writer.  

Like i know its not your major and that youve never studied it and stuff and the fact that you can produce all of that based on pure talent is honestly incredible.  Im constantly in awe every time i read anything of yours its insane.  I really do hope your as proud as you can be of yourself, you deserve it. 

~list anon~

list anon i get such a little smile on my face when i see ur asks come in like i get comfy and make sure i have time to go through the whole thing in one go and it just warms my heart that someone so consistently makes time for me and my silly stories. thank you x

[randomingoftherandomness]

Hey lovely! I was wondering if you would be able to write a Shangjue and Yuanzhi fic ive been thinking about. I keep thinking about the scene where Yuanzhi is in the closet and bites his lip so Shangjue will find him with his blood and it won't leave my brain aha

I was thinking that if Yuanzhi is kidnapped he'd 100% use the same technique because he knows his gege is looking for him and won't stop until he's found

But side note, could you imagine having a period around Shangjue lmao he'd know before you do and that's wild lol

A/N: fam.

Rainbow kiss :>

I know you didn’t ask for this but, I’m pulling a Rule 63 for a female!Yuanzhi :> 🌶️🍋

Tags: Gong Shangjue x Gong Yuanzhi, Rule 63!Yuanzhi, Period Sex, LET BUSHES BE BUSHES, Oral Sex, Vaginal Sex

—

They barely make it into Jue residence before Shangjue has her pressed up against the nearest pillar, pulling a gasp out of her before Gege bullies his way between her thighs.

Even without Shangjue gege’s preternatural ability to sniff out blood like a hunting hound, she can smell herself, feel herself growing sticky and wet where she is pressed up against Gege’s bulge.

“Ge…! Stop, I’ll stain your clothes…”

The only answer she gets is a rough tug of her hips and a groan that rips itself out of her chest at the zing of pleasure that starbursts up her spine.

Shangjue gege leans in to nip at the corner of her jaw, the tip of his button nose nuzzling up against the soft secret place behind her ear. “I could smell you,” Gege sighs into the heat of her skin. “The second I stepped foot into that abandoned temple, I could almost taste you on my tongue.”

An image of her gege following the trail of her scent like a hunting dog comes to mind not for the first time. Yuanzhi giggles a little at the thought. Somehow, she thinks it’s comforting to know that no matter where she goes in the world, her gege will always find her.

"Then do it."

Gege pauses. Yuanzhi tilts her head back, moving her fingers through her gege's hair. "Do it, gege," She breathes, rocking her hips. "Taste me."

The reverent kiss to the side of the neck is only the prelude to Shangjue carefully peeling them both back from the pillar, making a sure-footed path to his room.

“I thought I was going to go mad if I couldn’t find you." Shangjue admits. Laying her down on her back, he crawls to loom over her. "Gong Ziyu had to physically hold me down from running out the door the second they delivered their ransom demands.”

“How fortunate that I started bleeding.”

“How fortunate, indeed.” Shangjue gege smiles beatifically as if she'd just commented on a very nice deed he'd just promised he would get done. Stroking the back of his fingers down the side of her face, he moves back.

Yuanzhi giggles when Shangjue's fingernails scratch over her belly as he is stripping her of underpants. "Not even going to get me naked?" She teases, running her fingers over the shell of an ear. "Ge, you're so impatient."

He chuckles, making space between her thighs until he has them thrown over his shoulders with a small yelp from her lips.

Kissing the insides of her thighs, she meets his gaze full-on when he slowly brushes his lips onto the patch of skin between her thigh and groin. A rush of wetness escapes her at the first press of tongue to clit, smearing slick to his cheek, clinging onto her dark thatch of hair. It's like a lightning bolt to her senses.

"Ge, I won't last long if you do that." She warns.

"Who said I wanted you to?" Shangjue easily replies, lips smacking as she feels his fingers expose more of her flower. A curse escapes her, stuttering and weak as it carves itself into the night air. Surrendering, defeated by this expert manipulation of her body.

Yuanzhi throws an arm over her face, only for Shangjue to stop and reach up to pull it off.

"Don't hide. Not tonight."

Her heart skips a beat. The sight of her gege's full lips shiny with spit and blood has her quivering. Her chest grows warm when she catches the naked worry in his eyes. Pushing herself up by the elbows, she pulls him up by the collar, dragging him until she is close enough to slide their lips together, drawing in the taste of her musk and blood in his mouth.

"In me. Please."

"So polite," Gege huffs into the seam of her smile.

"Only for you," Yuanzhi quips, the sound petering into a giggle when she feels her gege reaching down to undo the ties of his inner pants.

"Yes, only for me."

Yuanzhi inhales at the first brush of Shangjue's cockhead against her hole, swallows down a broken moan at the second, blanks out on the third. It's a slow push into her and she can feel every stretch, every ridge, every bump as Shangjue gege reshapes her to fit him.

"Gege...!"

Shangjue wraps her in his arms, holding her tightly to him as he thrusts the last inch of his erection into her. Groaning, Yuanzhi's thighs shake at the overwhelming sensation of being filled so perfectly. Digging her nails into the back of gege's neck, she arches, body shivering and trembling through her orgasm.

She is unravelled. Unspooled and undone as Shangjue refuses to let her rest and immediately picks up the pace on fucking her into the mattress. She throws her hands above her head, a mad scramble to hold on to the headboard as Shangjue gege moans her name, jackrabbiting his hips.

Her mind trips on the edge of pleasure and pain. She thinks she sobs, not caring one bit when her belt is pulled loose, the front of her robes slipping open to reveal her chest.

The grip and weight of gege's hands on her waist pulls her back down when he thrusts back up into her. The air is a thick tang of blood and sweat, singing with the lewd symphony of flesh to flesh and pleasured groans.

"Yuanzhi..."

"Inside me, gege," Yuanzhi pants. "Be good, gege, and come inside me..."

Shangjue's breath hitches and he nods, obeying when his hips slows, one, two, and then stilling, pressed up in her as he fills her full.

Yuanzhi weakly pulls him back down on her, refusing to let him pull out even as he shivers through his own high. Peppering his face with lazy kisses, she groans when he shifts his hips, causing him to slip out.

Shangjue flops to her side, not letting her move even half an inch away by throwing an arm around her waist to haul her into his arms. Yuanzhi lets her gege pet at her hair, brushing back her bangs and carefully tugging her hair ornaments off with one hand.

"Don't...!" She tries to stop him when he tosses one of her hair bells onto the floor.

"I'll get you a new one." Shangjue gege says. "Just be good for me and let me take care of you now."

An absolute tyrant, Yuanzhi thinks sluggishly, content to relax back into his embrace. No wonder I love him.

[6rookie-writer0110]

Heaven is not waiting for me anymore

Clark Kent x Male!Reader Kent

Request - where y/n is the son of Clark and Lois from the injustice universe. He has kryptonite in his system where he is unable to use his powers because clark (injustice) made an example of him so he can show fear. After that he has been cold to others and distance with people including Barbara who he has feelings for but so much has happened. So he has to relay on martial art from training. with bruce, he also has a bat suit. He also have a deep hatred for his father (injustice superman).

Earth 2- Injustice Universe

You lost your mother Lois because of the Joker. Your father Clark snapped, he became a different person. Now he is starting to kill criminals and doesn't care about anyone or you. He doesn't stand for hope anymore now he stands for destruction. You feel that you lost both of your parents, you don't wear the symbol of hope anymore.

You made a plan to stop your father. You didn't think fully out the plan, but you have kryptonite inside a gun. You are half Kryptonian and kryptonite is still your weakness.

You have been tracking your father, he is about to kill a criminal robbing a bank. But you stepped in and punched him in the face. Everyone saw what you did, they take out their phones and start to record. Now you and Clark start to fight each other.

“You are destroying everything! You are no god!!” You yelled.

“I am a God. Everyone bows down to me and you would bow down to me” Clark said.

You take out the gun, you pulled the trigger. But he used speed to grab the gun and there is one bullet left. Now he will make sure everyone will watch what he will do next. He has his hand around your throat, you are struggling to breathe and tears go down your face.

“Anyone who tries to disobey me or think they can kill me, this will happen!” Clark yelled.

He aimed the gun on your chest and pulled the trigger. Everyone is in shock at what happened, he throws you to the ground. You are in pain and you try to use your powers but can't. Barbara arrived at the scene, she used Batarang to distract him. He left and Barbara picked you up and takes you to the bat cave.

---

A week later...

You have been in a coma for a week, Barbara and Bruce have been taking care of you. You wake up and you see Barbara looking at a computer screen.

“What happened?” You asked.

She turns around and walked towards you.

“You have been in a coma for a week. The kryptonite was close to your heart. You lost a lot of blood and it was too much kryptonite in your system” Barbara said.

You touch your chest and you see the scar. You sighed and she gives you a cup of water.

“Thank you, Barbara. But I have to go” You said.

“Your father thinks you are dead. Don't do anything stupid, you almost died and if it happens again he would kill you” Barbara said.

“He needs to be stopped,” You said.

“I know. But he is stronger than you, you are thinking reckless” Barbara said.

You take out the iv from your arms and take off the hospital gown. She gave you a hoodie and sweat pants.

“Where are you going?” Barbara asked.

“Dont worry about me,” You said.

She watched you walk away and she called Bruce and told him what happened. You went to a rundown motel and you want to be alone. Your father thinks you're dead and he is still killing criminals, no one can stop him.

Days went by, you didn't leave the motel room for anything. Barbara didn't check up on you, she wanted to give you space. And she has been busy with Bruce designing a suit.

You are in bed watching tv, you hear a knock on the door but you don't get up. She starts to knock louder, but you don't move.

“Y/n! Open the door now” Barbara yelled.

You sighed heavily then got out of bed and opened the door.

“What!?” You yelled.

“Are you done with the pity party!?” Barbara asked.

“How did you find me?” You asked.

She walks in and you closed the door. The motel room is a dump.

“Wasn't hard. I put a tracker on the hoodie you left with. I know you still want to stop your dad, so come with me” Barbara said.

“Why should I? Plus he still thinks I'm dead” You said.

“To train. You are still weak if you went to fight him now well he will break like a stick” Barbara said.

“Fine,” You said.

You leave with Barbara, she took you to Bruce’s mansion. You and Barbara have feelings for each other, you told her, and you were going to ask her out but tragically struck. Her feelings for you haven't changed but she wants to be there for you. She wants you to open up to her but you won't.

“Y/n, how are you,” Bruce said.

“Why do you want me here?” You asked.

“To help you train and stop your father,” Bruce said.

“Okay,” You said.

---

Bruce and Barbara started to train with you in Martial arts. Today you are fighting against Bruce, Barbara, and the League of Assassins. Some are friends with Bruce and they agreed to train you. They are pushing your limits, they don't let you rest. Any mistake you make will let you know and make you train harder.

During the night, Bruce is training you with weapons. Barbara shows you how to use the weapons, you did struggle to fight with weapons. Bruce and the league of assassins easily knocked the weapons out of your hands.

After training Barbara would want to spend time with you, but you would lock yourself in the bedroom. She gives you space and she goes back to the bat cave.

“Here is your dinner, master y/n,” Alfred said.

“Thank you. You don't have to call me ‘master’, Alfred” You said.

“Master, y/n you shouldn't hide from the world. Yes, you are going through a tough time but that doesn't mean you can't be happy in the end. You should let yourself grieve for your mother, she was a wonderful woman and she was strong” Alfred said.

“I wish everything didn't change,” You said.

“We all feel the same way. But now you have a chance to create the life you want a new one. what would your mother say right now?” Alfred said.

What made you think what he said, he walks out of the room. You start to eat the food and keep thinking about what he said.

✯ ✬ ✫ ✬

A few weeks later...

Bruce and Barbara have been designing a suit for you. They finished with the suit and they watched you test out the suit. Last few weeks, you were training from dawn until the next day. You mastered fighting with weapons and learned new combat moves. You are still distant from Barbara, two days ago you got into a huge argument with her.

You are still in love with her but you want to protect her from your father. You don't want to see Barbara get hurt.

“What do you think of the suit?” Barbara asked.

You take off the helmet.

“I like it and I can move in it,” You said.

“You are okay with the symbol?” Bruce asked.

“I like it,” You said.

The suit is all black, the Batman symbol is red, the eyes are red, the gloves have sharp claws, and the suit protects you from kryptonite. Barbara and Bruce start to suit and you put the helmet back on.

---

You three found Bruce in the city, you stopped him from killing someone.

“Son, you came back from the dead” Clark said.

“This ends today,” You said.

“I see you are wearing a new symbol -”

“You ruined the legacy of being a Kryptonian!” You yelled.

He used heat vision to attack you but you dodged it. Now Clark is fighting you while Barbara and Bruce are trying to get the citizens away from the fight. Clark punched you and you hit the ground, he used speed to grab you by the neck.

“This time I will make sure you are dead,” Clark said.

“You are not the same father that I used to have. He is dead to me!” You yelled.

You took out, you tased him, and he lets you go. You and Clark used heat vision at the same time, you used more strength to not fall. You throw Batarang at him and it started to explode.

He fell then you start to punch him in the face over and over. All the anger you have for him starts to come out. You take out the kryptonite dagger and you try to stab but he has his wrapped around your hands.

“Y/n! Y/n don't kill him” Barbara yelled.

“He deserves to die!” You yelled.

“That is an easy escape for him! You are much better than him, don't become like him” Barbara said.

Something clicked in your mind.

“I want you to suffer until the day you die. I lost my mom and my father” You said.

You moved away from him and he starts to stand up. Bruce played a video of Lois on the big screen and starts to watch, you your father cry.

The moment where Clark held Lois before she died.

“I can't lose you” Clark cried.

“I will always love you, Clark. I will always remember you and y/n, please be there for each other. He is going need to you. Tell him, I love him...”

You start to cry and it would be the last time you hear her voice.

“Son, I am sorry for the chaos I caused,” Clark said.

“I don't believe you and I will never will. You killed my friend Shazam and many others. You are lucky I didn't kill you because of Barbara. This is the last time you will see me” You said.

You take out the Phantom Zone projector and you sent him to the Phantom Zone.

✯ ✬ ✫ ✬

Time Skip...

You and Barbara became an official couple. She makes you happy and you carrying boxes into her apartment. You are going to live with her and she is very happy about that.

You and Barbara sat on the couch and she gave you a peck on the lips.

“So happy that was the last box,” Barbara said.

“Now we have to unbox everything,” You said.

“How about we go get something to eat and we do it later?” Barbara said.

You kissed her on the lips.

“Sounds good to me,” You said.

Later, you and Barbara spend half of the night unboxing everything. You did use speed to do it faster which Barbara is happy about. You and Barbara would save the city together but you don't kill criminals who rob a store. You would kill if it's a life and death situation only.

[in-ky]

Hi! I’d love a story about Negan being a serial killer who only kills “bad people” (like in Dexter) and maybe he saves the reader from her ex who’s about to kill her and Negan can save her and takes her in because she’s a mess but she’s actually a killer herself (who kills rapists etc/ only the bad ones) and Negan and the reader start fighting and then get caught up in steamy hot sex 🥵 thank you!

Savior - Negan Killer AU

Warnings: Warnings: GORE + violence, smut, domestic abuse, swearing, dirty talk ig? idk how to tag this lol

A/N: hey! i struggled over this one for a while lol. ive only seen like. 3? episodes of dexter so. i really hope this meets your expectations! also forgive any mistakes its late, im tired, and i wanna get this up lol. also, is negan batman? maybe. 3.7k words

"Will, stop you're hurting me!" I hissed, grabbing at his wrist. He tugged me out of the bustling restaurant and into the dark street.

"I don't really give a shit," He snarled, throwing me into a secluded alleyway a few buildings down from the restaurant. Will had taken me out to a business dinner with his boss in hopes of showing me off and making a good impression. But things didn't quite go according to plan. "You embarrassed me in front of everyone!" He pushed me against the brick wall of the closed department store.

"What was I supposed to do?" I sneered, trying to wiggle away from him "He kept commenting on my body, saying how he wished he could take me home at the end of the night and do all kinds of 'unspeakable things to me'."

"You were just supposed to shut up and take it!" Will said, voice filled with rage "But no, you and your untamable fucking complex just couldn't handle a compliment. You threw your drink in his face! You're lucky he didn't fire me right then and there. You made me look like some pussy who can't control his whore."

"You're an asshole." I shouted, tears welling at the edges of my eyes. Will's face contorted further into a look of pure, unadulterated hatred.

"What the fuck did you just call me?" He seethed, clasping his hand tightly around my throat and constricting his fingers around my airway.

"I said you're an asshole who cares more about his dead-end career than his fucking girlfriend." I croaked. I hated him. I hated him so much. My vision clouded with the combination of disgust, loathing, and lack of oxygen, so I hit him where I knew it hurt. "There's a reason you needed me for arm candy tonight. It's 'cause you're a boring, piece-of-shit, lowlife who has no skill whatsoever. How does it feel knowing you need me to make something of yourself?" With that, he threw me to the ground by my throat. He wasted no time and pinned me to the cold concrete. His knees dug into my shoulders and his hand flew to his back pocket, whipping out the switchblade he carried as a precaution against mugging. My eyes widened as they caught a glint of the moonlight off the sharp knife. He brought the blade up to my throat and slapped me over the cheek harshly with his free hand.

"You better take back those words, bitch," He hissed, pressing the blade into the soft skin of my jugular "or they might just be your last." A dribble of blood ran down my neck with the pressure. Realization flashed through my mind. I could die right then. That could have been my last moment. Was I scared? No. Why wasn't I scared? Maybe it had to do with the shadowy figure that was slowly approaching us from the ally entrance.

There was plenty of time for me to warn Will that someone was coming. But I didn't. Instead, I stayed quiet and watched as the shadow figure pulled Will from my body with ease and tossed him to the side. Everything was kind of a blur. I was still oxygen starved and filled with a whirl-wind of emotion. I heard Will cry out in surprise and indignance. The shadow figure said nothing. It saw the switchblade with a steady line of my blood. It kicked Will in the chest, knocking him to the ground. Then it lifted up a baseball bat over its head and cracked it down over Will's skull. He continued to beat Will until he stopped squirming. The shadow figure paused and swung the bat over his shoulder. I had regained my breath and pushed myself to my elbows. The shadow noticed me moving and took a few heavy steps in my direction. I squirmed away slightly, instincts telling me to get away from the thing that had just pulverized my boyfriend. The shadow entered a stream of moonlight. It was a man. He had peppered hair and a blood-speckled face. He had dark brown eyes and a small smile perched on his lips.

"You okay, sweetheart?" He said. His voice was deep. I was partially surprised. He wasn't a bulky man. He was tall and had a broad frame, but his limbs were long and his body was lithe. He wore a leather jacket and his boots were slick with what I could only assume were Will's brains. I didn't want to look at his bat.

"W-Why did you do that?" I whispered. It was all I could muster.

"He was going to kill you." The man sounded confused, like I was supposed to know who he was and why he saved me.

"You don't know that." My voice was quiet. My eyes were glued to a spot behind the man, unblinking. He let out a throaty chuckle and dropped to a squat, leveling with me.

"Doll, he had a knife pressed to your throat," His words were gentle "Looked like he was gonna fuckin' kill you." He hesitantly reached out two fingers in the direction of my face. I didn't move. He was wearing leather gloves. The ridged fabric ran along my injuries. "Seems like he did some damage before I could step in. Damn. Sorry about that. Listen, I live a few streets down. If you want, I can get you cleaned up."

"Okay," I said softly. I let him help me up to my feet. He guided me along with one arm while holding his bat with the other. As we walked out of the alley I couldn't help but look down at Will, or what remained of him at least. His forehead was split in half, a pool of chunky blood bubbling on the ground. I clenched my jaw and forced myself to swallow the bile that had risen in my throat. And yet, I didn't feel sad. I didn't mourn him. Maybe it was shock, maybe it wasn't. "Thank you?" I murmured, though it was more of a question. The man and I stepped out onto the street and I was grateful there was no one around to see us leaving the scene of a very heinous-looking crime.

"No problem, doll," The man hummed, setting a brisk pace down the sidewalk. "The name's Negan, by the way." Cool. Negan: my Savior.

~~~

"So you're like Batman?" I asked Negan as he dabbed the blood away from my neck. He gave a short chuckle and tore away the sticky part of the band-aid.

"I guess you can say that," he mused, splaying the bandage over the cut the knife had left "but I specifically go for people that I know have hurt others. The baddies, if you will."

"Is that legal?" I tilted my head, crossing my ankles as they dangled over the bathroom counter. My palms were flat on the surface of Negan's marble sink top, fiddling with the wrappers of the medical supplies he had used to clean and bandage my small cuts and bruises.

"I haven't been caught," Negan shrugged "besides, it's less work for the police. They don't have to do any interrogation bullshit or anything. I usually catch people in the act, like tonight. Then I do my thing."

"Do you kill everyone?"

"Only the bad people," He reminded, tossing away a bloody tissue "only people who have hurt others. But, yes, usually the offender ends up on the business end of Lucille over there." He pointed out the door into the living room, where the still-bloody bat rested against a chair. I furrowed my brow.

"Well, doesn't that make you a bad guy?" I pressed. He tapped my knee and I dropped down to the tile floor, tucking my hair behind my ear and gathering some of the scraps.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, you still kill people, right? Even if they're bad? So doesn't that still make you a killer?" Negan was quiet for a minute. "Let's put it this way," I continued "What would you do if you came across someone who was like you; someone who hurt the bad people. Would you still kill them. They're hurting people." Negan took a deep breath and let it out with a contemplative sigh, itching his bearded chin.

"I'm not sure," He mused "I've never really thought about it before. See, I don't consider myself a bad person per say. Yea, what I'm doing might be considered fucked up. But I'm doing it for the right reason. I'm protecting people by attacking their attackers. In the end, someone's saved." He brushed off his hands and led me out of the bathroom, flicking the light off. "Would you rather me not have saved you tonight?"

"No," I said immediately "thank you. Really, thank you. You saved my life. Will is...was...always a dick, but I never thought he'd actually hurt me. I guess that proves people can have a whole bunch of layers." Negan nodded and moved to the kitchen. He raised a bottle of whiskey as an offering. I shook my head but he poured himself a glass.

"I was just doing my job," Negan grinned sympathetically "I'm sorry your boyfriend was an asshole who tried to murder you." I shrugged, amusement in my eyes.

"Eh, it happens to everyone." I smiled as he let out another laugh. I felt as if I shouldn't be laughing, but at the same time, everyone has their own responses to almost getting stabbed to death in an alley. So I let myself have this moment. Besides, Negan was a good guy to be around. He made me feel safe, comfortable, secure. Everything I needed right now. "So, Negan, what do you do? Surely vigilante-ing can't pay well, and this apartment is really nice."

"I'm a retired baseball player," Negan said, sipping his whiskey and settling into one of the armchairs in the living room "Hence the bat."

"Were you any good?" I asked. He let out a loud scoff.

"Was I any good?" He mocked "Sweetheart, I have a whole damn trophy room. I was fucking amazing. I just got old."

"So you're rich with no real job, you kill bad guys, and you have a massive ego," I listed "You really are like Batman, aren't you?"

~~~

Negan let me stay on his couch that night. It was leather, like everything else that man seemed to own, but it was comfortable. I woke up to the smell of bacon filling the air. I groaned and rubbed my fists against my eyes, clearing them of sleep. I stretched my arms above my head in a yawn and rolled off the couch, stumbling into the kitchen. Negan was hunched over the bubbling pan, dodging pellets of grease as they shot up at him.

"Smells good!" I purred, closing my eyes and taking a deep inhale.

"Good," He grumbled "You better fucking enjoy it because I've gotten burned at least three times." I laughed and walked up to him examining the small red patches that dotted his arms.

"You didn't have to make me breakfast you know."

"Yea, but I wanted to make sure you were comfortable," He sighed, turning off the stove and scooping the cooked bacon onto a paper towel. "Besides, I was craving some bacon when I woke up. I haven't had someone to share a meal with in a while."

"Well, if you want, you can come by my house for dinner." I offered, crunching down on a piece of bacon "I've been meaning to whip out the family alfredo recipe for a while, maybe a hot date would give me that incentive." I gave him a playful wink and he chuckled.

"Sure thing, doll," He hummed, putting the pan in the sink "I love me some fucking spaghetti. I'll see you around seven?"

"Sounds good."

~~~

I ran down the sidewalk, chest heaving. There was enough darkness to cover me, but I still kept my head down to prevent recognition. I held my hands close to my stomach, praying that the blood on my fingers wouldn't drip on the pavement and leave a trail. I had been on my way home from the store when I heard some commotion coming from an alley. My first instinct was to run, but then I heard the girl crying for help. Negan came to mind, what he did, how he helped people. I couldn't turn away. I marched down the alley and saw a greasy man pinning a woman to the wall of a building. Flashbacks of the night before hit me like a train. I looked on top of the alley dumpster  and saw a crowbar perched on one of the lids. I grabbed it and stormed up to the man, whacking him upside the head with the weapon. I kicked him to the side and brought the crowbar over my head before swinging it down. It connected with his face in a sickening 'thwack.' I thought of Will. I thought of what might of happened if Negan had never stopped him. I thought of all the times that bastard had gotten drunk and told me I was nothing. I let the rage bubble up and fuel my beating. By the time I was pulled back into the moment, my muscles were screaming, the woman was gone, and the man's face was unrecognizable. I tossed the crowbar into the dumpster and ran back home.

Dried blood is extremely hard to wash off. It sticks to your skin in flakes, creating a pattern of red veins crawling over your hands. Fuck. I scrubbed as hard as I could under the rushing water of the sink, pumping more and more soap into my hand. It was under my fingernails. It was stuck in my palm prints. Shit, did I leave fingerprints at the scene? Would they be coming for me? With a hiss, I rubbed even harder at my skin, small flecks of blood turning the sink water red.

Suddenly, my door opened.

"I'm ready for my s'getties!" Negan boomed with a wide smile. My head whipped around, looking at him with wide eyes. His grin faded and he crossed the room in record time, grabbing my wrists and turning the sink off. "Is this fucking blood?" He snarled, bringing my hands up to my face. I clenched my jaw and dropped my eyes to my feet. "Jesus, who's is it? Answer me!"

"I-I heard someone screaming on the way home," I said quietly, eyes still downcast "I thought I would help..." His jaw went slack and he let go of my hands, running his fingers through his hair.

"Jesus fuck, you can't just go around killing people!"

"Why not?" I snapped, eyes meeting his "You do it all the time? What's the difference? Why can't I help people?"

"Because it...Because you just can't!" Negan growled, shaking his head.

"Why are you so special?" I hissed back, drying my hands off on a towel before tossing it at him "It's not like you can get a permit for fucking murder. Why do you do it, anyways? Is it some perverted thing? Do you get off on saving people from attackers?"

"Watch yourself." Negan warned, eyes darkening.

"Pfft, or what?" I laughed, tossing my head back "What are you gonna do, kill me? I'm not afraid of you, Negan." As soon as the words left my mouth, he charged me. His hand flew to my throat, squeezing my airway lightly. His hips pressed me against the counter. I let out a small gasp when he shoved his face next to mine.

"Oh, but doll, you really fucking should be." He spat, curling his lip "I could snap your neck right here, right now." He gave a small squeeze to emphasize his words. I let out a strangled moan. We both froze. "Are you turned on right now?" He muttered, furrowing his brow. I licked my lips and squirmed in his grip, pressing my thighs together slightly in an effort to alleviate the warm pressure growing in my belly.

"No," I lied, voice weak. A sinister grin curled over the bottom half of his face and he licked his tongue over his teeth.

"And I'm the perv, huh?" He sucked on my earlobe and peppered kisses down my jawline "Sweetheart, tell me, do you want me to fuck that pretty little pussy of yours? Do you want me to make you cum harder than you ever have?" I whimpered at his dirty mouth. "Use your words, doll, or I'll leave right fucking now."

"Y-Yes!" I breathed as Negan's lips sucked on the sweet spot right beneath my ear.

"Yes, what, princess?"

"Yes, I want you to fuck me, please!" I groaned, clawing at his shirt. He let out a short chuckle, muttering something about how needy I was, but I didn't care. Right now, the only thought running through my head was that I needed Negan. I needed all of him. And damn me if I wasn't going to get it.

We clawed at each other's clothes like rabid animals. Once we were completely bare, Negan moved his kisses down my body. His large, calloused hands kneaded my breasts, twisting my nipples between his thumbs. My arms flew around his neck and I dragged my fingernails up his back. He shivered against my touch and slid his hands further down my body. They settled firmly on my hips as he captured my lips in a fervent kiss.

"Fuck, sweetheart," he grunted, pulling back for air. I looked at him. His tawny eyes were now black, pupils far beyond dilated with lust. Both of our lips were swollen and red from the intensity of our kisses. Negan's chest inflated and deflated quickly as his eyes roamed over my body. "You're so damn perfect." I smiled sheepishly and pulled my bottom lip between my teeth, looking up at him through lidded eyes.

"You're not so bad yourself," I reached out my hand and used my pointer finger to draw a line from his collar bone down the center of his chest and through his navel, finally ending right over his pulsing cock. He sucked in a breath as my fingers closed around him. My thumb swept over the hot tip, gathering precum on the pad of my finger and rubbing it around.

"Shit," He hissed as I slowly pumped him "I'm not gonna fucking last if you keep doing that." He gently pried my hand away and took a step closer to me. I could feel his hardened length resting against the inside of my thigh. The thought of him being so close made a burst of heat rush down between my thighs. Negan took a long finger and ran it through my folds, collecting my wetness. I moaned as he teasingly dipped the first knuckle into me. He pulled back and let out a low whistle. "Damn, girl," he chuckled, raising his finger to my face "You're fucking dripping. Who's that for?" His slick-coated fingers glistened in the light of my apartment. I let out a deep groan as he slid them between his lips and sucked.

"You, Negan!" I whimpered, wrapping my legs around his waist "It's all for you." A wolfish grin spread over his features as he tugged me off him and pulled me down off the counter. He spun me around and pressed gently between my shoulder blades until my chest was flat against the cold surface.

"Then if you don't mind," Negan cooed, lining himself up with my entrance "I'm going to take what belongs to me." With that, he slowly pushed into me. I gasped at the stretch, balling my hands into fists as he continued to split me open.

"Fucking shit," he groaned once he bottomed out "you're tight as hell. I bet you've never had a dick as big as mine." He pulled out slightly and I let out a moan at the growing emptiness inside. The moan soon turned to a yelp when he brought down his hand against my ass. The smack was loud and he rubbed the red spot tenderly. "Have you?"

"N-No!" I gasped when he thrusted into me for the first time "Never. Fuck, you feel so good." Negan's thrusts sped up, his hips snapping against my ass in an obscene rhythm. Grunts and moans of pleasure slipped from both of our lips as he plowed unapologetically into me. I could feel every inch of him. He was hitting every spot, dragging against my walls in a sinfully perfect way.

"You're doing so good," He purred, kissing and biting my shoulder "So good for me. You're so perfect." I tossed my head back and he grabbed my chin, tilting my face towards him so he could give me another bruising kiss. I could only keep up for so long, though, and the white bliss of pleasure he was giving me soon became overwhelming. My jaw went slack and my head dropped against the cool tile of the counter in an attempt to ground myself in the moment. "I want you to cum, doll, cum around me. Wanna feel those walls squeeze me." His thrusts were starting to become sloppy and I could tell he was getting to his end. One of his fingers danced down my spine and found its way to my clit. He circled it with just enough pressure to get me to the edge that I was so willing to jump off. "Now." Negan growled. I obeyed, feeling the band in my lower abdomen snapping violently. We reached our releases simultaneously. My walls clenched around him, milking him of every drop. I screwed my eyes shut and screamed his name, holding in a large breath as the world around me spun. Negan eventually pulled himself out and collapsed on top of me. We both were breathing heavily, sweaty bodies entangled as well as we could over a counter. I swallowed, my throat dry from panting through my orgasm. When my eyes fluttered open, I could see Negan's thumb tracing circles over the love bites that were starting to darken on my shoulders.

"Are you going to kill me?" I rasped, running a hand through my wild hair "I guess I'm a bad person now." Negan chuckled, still out of breath.

"I think I'll make an exception," He mused, pressing a sweet kiss to the shell of my ear "I don't think I'm ready to let you go just yet."

[burnedbyshoto]

good little omega

— He was an alpha, you were an omega. Can I make it anymore obvious? He was a crime boss and you were a movie star. What more can I say? Oh, he wanted you, really wanted you, but you swore you would never, ever need an alpha.

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pairing: alpha!shigaraki tomura x omega fem!reader

warnings: 18+, smut, abo/omegaverse, chad alpha!shiggy, virgin celeb!reader, kidnapping, drugging, sex slave auction, biting/marking, belly bulge, knotting, sex toys, heat, implied murder (lol rip shigsters last omegas), mind break, breeding, degradation, finger fucking, fucking in front of a crowd, modern world!au

word count: 6,174

a/n: this goes out to my shiggy stans. I never understood you until recently and now I blush like a schoolgirl when I see him. mondays are so busy, are they not? ive been home for 6 hours today wtf????

kinktober day 12 main kink: abo/omegaverse | kinktober masterlist

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You sat before the mirror, your eyes intently staring at your reflection. The people around you running around, chaotically bringing brushes and pencils to your face, the smell of chemicals in the air, tickling your overly sensitive nose. 

“Are we ready?! Is Y/n ready?! I don’t think she’s ready?! We need to be out of here in five minutes, people, let’s hurry it up!”

Breaking your gaze from your reflection onto your agent in the background, you sighed softly at the growing sour and distressed omega pheromones. Oh, you realized suddenly, your nose unable to keep from scrunching at the mildewy detergent scent, they were really stressed out.

Today was the night of the biggest award show one could attend as a movie star celebrity in Japan. The Motion Picture Awards gave only the most prestigious and prodigious actors and actresses their due. A night of fashion, alcohol, and nervous pheromone pumping alphas and betas in a single room to reveal who was the best this year. Working in an industry such as your own, you had become quite the living legend already at the mere age of twenty-two.

As an omega, you grew up in a society that banned you from enlisting or attempting to join the ranks of the best in just about every field of focus or study. So that even included the area of acting. Casting Directors had always said the same thing each and every time you were forced to present your secondary gender to them all when being called back for auditions.

‘Omegas can’t be movie stars, your heats are too often and too long, they cause rifts in filming schedules this project cannot afford.’

‘We have too many prime alphas on set. Our film's projected main character is an alpha, we wouldn’t want to be caught up in a lawsuit should she find you to be too… fertile.’

‘Omegas can only be good, suitable nurtures and well, mothers. This movie just seems a bit too intense for a little omega like you!’

Omegas can’t do this, omegas can’t do that. Alphas, the pride of society, couldn’t be made to hold themselves back to your alluring scent and occasional heats. Betas, the majority of the population, didn’t feel a challenge when working alongside omegas. Omegas? Well, if there were any that actually existed within the film industry, they were for sure never heard from, or seen of.

At the age of eighteen, you had nearly given up on your long aspiring desire to become the first omega actor or actress to ever grace the scene. But just as you were ready to tell your agent that you were tired of all of the same, repetitive bullshit, a gentle alpha had approached you with an exciting role in mind for you.

Movies and cinematic films had always showcased omegas as sweet, nurturing individuals. For the most part, you agreed that that’s how you omegas were. You enjoyed hugging your close friends, scenting them softly as means of a small pack you had created as none of you were mated this young, yet didn’t ever wish to be bothered by self-righteous alphas or betas. Through many, many biology courses revolving around your secondary gender, you knew that the hormones that made you an omega also affected the brain to accept and view things in a… softer light. But unlike what they taught in school, and unlike what the alphas in society knew about omegas as they could never honestly watch an omega in heat while alone, was that omegas weren’t always the most nurturing or kind.

The week before your heat, the week of, and the week following your heat, you were always irritable, angry, almost cold. You’d flash your small fangs at anyone who dared to approach you with a scent you hated, your heat room never once escaping with everything torn to shreds, and you definitely did not wish to seek any fiber of soft love.

So when the alpha male sat in front of you, a single fang poking out of his lip as he exposed his neck in a motion of vulnerability and conceding to you — the omega — you knew he was serious.

He explained to you his plan on creating a more realistic movie surrounding the brutal truths of what being a single omega was like. Films had, after all, had always depicted omegas as being mated the moment they presented and going as far as saying that there were others means to be coupled to other alphas without actually being marked. It was atrociously wrong of the omega lifestyle, and it always made your stomach curl to see that it was an alpha or a beta actor putting on the role.

But he wanted to focus on the realities. The anger, sadness, and horrors you could face as a single, unmated omega. The director raved that you were the face for that movie and had a soul that made him come seek you out. And without so much as consultation from your agent, you agreed on the spot.

The title of the film had been an ironic one. Good Little Omega was what it was called in the end.

All in all, the movie had done poorly in the eyes of the critics. Many individuals — namely alphas and betas — claimed that the depiction of omegas within the film had been horribly wrong. Omegas were never sad, never homeless, never abandoned by society! That’s what they had all cried the moment the trailer flashed with bright letters:

AND INTRODUCING: Y/L/N Y/N (Ω)

Still, the movie made billions as many went to watch it because they ‘needed to see how horrible the movie was.’ They wanted proof that omegas weren’t cut as movie stars because how could someone who was out of commission for a week every two months be proactive on set. But all they got was a cinematic masterpiece.

You had taken a claim in the industry, one while small, that hadn’t hurt that much because you were much more focused on the fact that you now were a household name. Well, that is until you were nominated for the awards ceremony you were currently about to attend, only that it was the one from four years ago.

You were the first omega actress and now the first omega nominee. You hadn’t won, but that had solidified the step you had in the door. After that, the interests to hire you in omega roles came pouring through the door.

But you were brought back to reality when the setting spray splashed against your face, your eyes fluttering when they covered your scent glands with the flesh-colored band-aids they got for you. Alphas could never complain about you being a distraction if you smelled the same as betas. 

Rising to your feet, you smiled graciously to your makeup and styling team, thanking them profusely as your agent placed her hand at the small of your back and began pushing you towards the exit.

“Goodluck!”

“Thank you!”

.

..

.

Shigaraki glared down the table of averted eyes, and his hands brought up under his chin twitched at his annoyance.

“Are you going to say anything, or are we going to remain silent?” he asked, his voice quiet yet heavy in all of their ears as they flinched. “Don’t think you’re going to get away without giving me an answer.”

The sour smell of fearful alphas should have corroded Shigaraki’s nose. It should have done something to unsettle the way that the young head sat on his black leather seat. But as a matter of fact, the young alpha had to resist the way he wanted to bare his teeth in a bloodied smile, his red eyes slit in his cruel lust for fear.

“O-Of course not, a-alpha!” croaked one of the smaller alphas down the table. Shigaraki snapped his eyes towards the yellow-haired croony, his neck exposed for the alpha, eyes refusing to look at his leader. “I-It’s just that, um, I — I mean, we don't know w-what happened to your mate!”

“I thought I gave clear and distinct instructions that you were supposed to have found them by this meeting,” Shigaraki stated, his voice somehow growing colder, meaner yet never once changing as his hands dropped from his chin to rest on the arms of his chair. He tilted his head, watching the pathetic alphas quiver like some scared, stupid omega. “Useless. Get out of here before I change my mind on killing you all where you sit.”

The crowd of alphas left quicker than Shigaraki could blink, leaving behind the reeking smell of scared alpha pheromones. 

“Tomura-kun, you killed your mate,” came the singsong giggle from behind him, and Shigaraki didn’t bother turning around, his nose and ears sharp enough to pick up exactly it was behind him. 

“They’re all a bunch of pissy lackeys,” Shigaraki simply stated, his eyes rolling as he slowly fell to the back of his chair, red eyes meeting golden ones that shone with mirth and joy. “What do you want, Toga?”

Toga leaned against the leather armrest, uncaring that Shigaraki hated his personal space invaded. The young female was an alpha, much like most of the people within this gang group, but unlike the others, she had a distinct, almost terrifying way to change the way she smelled. She could smell like anyone or any secondary gender. She often preferred to smell like an omega too. 

“We have a guest visiting us today!” Toga chirped, her fingers clasping together. “I wanted to introduce him!”

“Bring Giran in,” Shigaraki snapped, his eyes narrowing with no real malice for the alpha next to him who simply pouted at the surprise — not a surprise — being ruined. Giran reeked of cigarettes and cheap body sprays that, when wafted with his distinct omega pheromones, made Shigaraki want to throw up. “Hurry up.”

“UGH!”

Shigaraki’s mouth was set in a firm line, his eyes watching as one of his most trusted allies walked to the table, and taking a seat in the abandoned chairs as Toga purred in happiness, sitting on the armchair of Giran’s chair, arms enveloping him. 

“Shigaraki, how are you doing?” Giran smiled, the cigarette that seemed to take a permanent residence in his teeth moving with his words. “I came bearing some great news.”

“What do you have for me?” Shigaraki simply states, his eyes focusing on the letter that is unpocketed from Giran’s pockets and placed onto the table. “Don’t tell me you’re trying to sell me your omega niece again.”

Giran chuckled, looking at Toga, who was smirking softly, “I guess he still hates that joke, huh?”

“Absolutely livid!” Toga laughed.

Shigaraki growled, his mind and his inner alpha snarling at the lack of respect to the command of his question. He outranked them, outpowered them; they needed to respect his orders. 

Giran took a deep inhale of his cigarette, sliding the card over to Shigaraki, his eyes averted, but his stance still firm. “I know you go through omegas faster than a teenage boy goes through a pack of tissues, but I think this can answer the pleas you have at night.”

Observing the card in his hand, Shigaraki scowls, unsure of how to feel about the print on the invitation. 

“Say the word, and I’ll get you a seat,” Giran whispers, like a sinister god begging a mere mortal to sign over their life for something completely worthless. But Shigaraki knows his worth, and more importantly, he knows in this game he outranks Giran, who would never betray him. In the slightest. He huffs, his back hunched, and his eyes looking with subdued excitement. 

“Who else is showing up?”

Giran knows the seat will be wanted that instant.

“No one who could hold a candle to you, alpha.”

“Don’t make me regret this.”

“Of course not, my liege.”

.

..

.

The award sitting in your hand feels almost fake as if the entire night was nothing more than a heat-driven fever dream. You had won, had actually won the most significant award of the night that an actress could win!

“Oh my gods, okay, okay,” your agent muttered beside you. Her eyes glued to the shiny gold statue between your legs. “Well, I know your heat starts tomorrow, and I’ll leave you alone for a week. But I swear, y/n, as soon as your mind isn’t a full-blown lusty heat brained bimbo, we’ll reconvene, and we will make sure you are nothing but the greatest!”

“Yeah,” you breathlessly state, eyes transfixed on the prize that felt like it could melt away any second right now. “That sounds wonderful.”

The car you were in pulled up to your front door, and you felt meek excited the car in nothing but a silk robe and slippers. The dress you had worn that night had already been put back into a plastic bag to be returned to the stylist who had offered to style you for the night. You waved with an almost transfixed look in your eyes as you closed your front door behind you, your heart hammering as adrenaline still coursed through your veins as if you had just been declared the victor of the category yet again.

Placing the trophy onto the table, you sighed in a wondrous, dreamy way.

You had done it.

You had won.

Fuck all those directors who had ever said anything different.

Still deep in your thoughts, you almost missed the knock on your door, and you figured that you must have left something in the car. Walking back over to the front door, your nose curled at the lack of scent, was it a beta?

Opening the door, you don’t remember seeing faces or even a scent of a pheromone. A single cloth wrapped over your head, and before you could send out your painful, fearful moments-from-heat omega pheromones, you were knocked out.

Cold and lifeless, you sunk against their arms, bile rising up to your throat as you know exactly what was going on. You were being kidnapped. 

No… please not… not after all of this had happened.

.

..

.

You wake up to the sound of moving feet, sneering laughter, the feeling of coarse, hot, hands on your ass and wet, simmering tongues on your lubricated cunt. The sense is vivid. You can feel the very littlest touch on your body, the layer of scented pheromones on your glands, and slick from alphas — you know it's alphas imprinting themselves on you as a mark of a claim.

You knew about this from high school; it was an extremely outdated and frowned upon version of mating and claiming as it simply turned away any sort of pursuer who wasn’t the thick pheromone individual. You also knew it was frowned upon because if multiple individuals sought mateship with the typical omega individual, it would result in a massive, unsolvable death match. But these alphas, even with layering their scent on you so thick you thought you were turning crazy, didn’t attack. No, they took languid stripes of your fresh, intoxicating slick and growled to you, maybe, how that was how slick was supposed to be. 

You wanted to move, to kick the stupid, demeaning alphas in the snout before running away, but in a twist of horrible realization, you soon figured out that despite your alert mind, you couldn’t move your body. Couldn’t shift it even the smallest of bits. 

“I hope all you wonderful clients have been able to taste and smell your potential mates out here!” A loud, commanding introduction voice echoed from somewhere where you couldn’t see, his voice vibrating into the straps of your legs, but you couldn’t make a sound or even open your eyes. “As you know, we have such an arrangement for you all, the best of the best, really! We don’t wish to rush, but as always, all of these events are incredibly time-sensitive, so if you would, please alphas, please come and sit down, and we’ll begin bidding on our first of seven beautiful, fertile omegas tonight!” 

The words sounded foreign in your ears yet at the same time, something so familiar because this was something you omegas were always warned about. This had to be some sort of omega mate auction, and by the stench of alphas who smelled like they owned millions and killed millions, you were in no doubt somehow caught up in one of the worst ones imagined. 

Two long, completely hardened fingers suddenly entered your cunt, and as if for a single millisecond, your mind and your body were able to work in tangent, your hips bucked at the sweet feelings. Oh, your eyes tried to flutter, enjoying the way the two fingers circled the walls of your long lonely cunt.

“Please, alpha, please refrain from touching the merchandise for now, please join us so that we may begin!”

The two fingers buried within your cunt as if it was their right, slowly withdrew out of your pulsing walls, and you heard the sound of sneakers against the hardwood floor and felt relaxed and sickened at how you sort of liked it.

Heat brain, you reminded yourself. Just your stupid, horny heat brain.

You were a celebrity, you mantra, a dignified star who didn’t need a beta or an alpha unless you saw it fit. Right now, as you had repeated many times to the countless amounts of reporters who had asked, you had no interest in someone to share your heat with.

“Alright, and to start off our night in a rolling go! Please, everyone put your hands together for the fertile and beautiful thirteenth in-line the Princess of Cabodia: Dayanara!”

This auction was insane, all six omegas before you all sold from a price that ranged from 198 hundred million to the one right before you who sold for one billion dollars. You were a prideful omega, and you saw worth to your abilities, smell, and looks, but were you even worth anywhere in that range?

The entire time you had been set up in who knows what, the small, overwhelming pound of your heat sinking into the depths and pores of your body was becoming heavy. You couldn’t move a single muscle still, your body still refusing to respond to the call of your body, but the seep of your slick running down the innards of your thighs, undoubtedly beginning to pool on the ground, must be embarrassing of you. 

Suddenly someone spread the skin below your ass out, and you couldn’t react as something sharp and prick stabbed into your flesh. You howled in the surprising pain, and you were fast to find that whatever they had injected you with had allowed systematic movement within your body. Your eyes fluttered open as two, impossibly huge alphas grabbed you by your forearm and hoisted you to your feet. 

Your neck was far too weak to carry the weight of your head, so your eyes were transfixed on the white silk of the slutty dress they dressed you in. It showed off your cleavage with no regret, and by the feel and look of it, it barely passed the bottom of your ass. Your vision swam, the alphas all over the room distorted and melting within one another as you stepped onto a stage, the spotlight on you feeling deliriously hot and melting your skin.

Your hormones, already going crazy with your heat, seemed to intensify at the small of so many capable, potent, possessive alpha pheromones that suffocated the room. Handcuffs slapped onto your wrists, and you moaned pathetically at the sting of cold metal on your skin, and you obediently followed the command of one alpha to go on your knees. 

A nail slammed between the metal links of the handcuffs, practically stapling you to the wooden floor, and you whimpered at the feeling of a stuffed pillow mount being placed beneath your lower stomach. You were in a forced and easily accessible mating position with your slick and cunt exposed for all the alphas to re-smell and see. 

Moaning, you shifted against the mount, your body not able to have the full movement you needed to ward off that building, insufferable heat in your core, but nothing you could do seemed to satisfy it.

“And for our biggest prize of the night, we have the one, the only, the beautiful sensation Y/l/n Y/n!” the auctioneer roared. His voice echoing in your ear as he walked over to you, exposing your dripping cunt to the crowd of alphas who had all gotten a sweet taste of your essence already. His hand came down to slap your ass with a chuckle. “Where do we start the bidding on this one, alphas? She needs no introduction, and none of you better be pussies because we know this bitch of an omega won’t take any tiny cocks as her alpha! She needs to be broken in, fucked to submission. No one likes a trailblazer… someone needs to remind of what fucking trail she’s supposed to be on. Besides, the bitch is in fucking heat, and if you don’t claim her, I just might do it myself!”

“75 million!” someone started the bidding.

You stiffened.

“75 to the man in the back!”

“90 million!” someone challenged.

“We’re up to 90!”

“125 million!”

“Do I hear another offer?”

“250 million!”

“250 million!”

The number climbed and climbed, the same voices coming to challenge each other until finally, they rounded out to a quantity that sounded bizarre even to you. 

“950 million!”

If it had been possible for your knees to give out, you would have been collapsed onto the floor, the pool of slick that continued to lubricate your cunt without a doubt drowning you as you craved the need to be fucked by someone with undoubted alpha pheromones and cock in this room. 

“950 million?” the auctioneer repeated, his voice for sure carrying a shark-like grin. “Going once, going twice—”

“Five billion.”

The gasp in the crowd was undeniable, and the omega in you crooned, knowing that this alpha valued you and your omega to be the price of five billion US dollars. 

“Fuck!” screamed the man who had presented the 950 million deal. 

“Wowee, five billion dollars, everyone! Anyone think they can beat that?! Going once! Going twice!” The crowd remained in silence, and you shook against your restraint, the heat emitting from your cunt almost demanding to be seen and fucked through this heat week. “SOLD! The virgin celebrity, Y/l/n Y/n sold to our own Shigaraki Tomura!”

The cheers of amaze weren’t nearly as loud as the smell of reeking petty alpha.

“Come and pay up, alpha, and then you can show us… a demonstration of how you’re going to break this omega.”

“Shut up.” Shigaraku growled, his footsteps heavy in your ear as you feel him climb up the stage, and you weakly tilted your head to look at the white-haired alpha boss hand over a simple credit card before walking over to you, his eyes unreadable as he looked you dead in the eye.

He reached out a finger that raised your chin up for him to study your face, moving and tilting your head as he pleased as a small, sinister smile pressed to his lips as he dropped your head. A sharp, uncomfortable pain fell on your chin as it crashed to the floor, and you shivered at the feeling of his calloused and rough fingers running down your exposed back.

“You’re such a small omega, still stupidly tiny. I bet you’ve never thought your first knot would come from someone like me,” Shigaraki laughed, his fingers and voice ice cold. His words were soft, spoken in a way that had your omega stupidly cooing for having secret conversations with your alpha who promised to fuck you till you were carrying a litter of pups. “I hope you realize that this is real life, that I will break you, and no hero in this world will be able to fucking save you.”

“Fuck the omega!” someone from the crowd screamed, and Shigaraki glared upwards. Still, you shivered in the thought of this alpha who spent five billion dollars to make you his claiming you, fucking your stupid heat brain into mush in front of these smaller, irrelevant alphas. 

“I’ll do what I fucking please,” Shigaraki snapped, but the fingers you remembered to have been the last ones to enter your slicked crazy walls seemed to be his. They moved deep within you, curling and spreading your tight, sopping wet cavern apart, letting your pathetic, chirping cries echo powerfully in the room as lusting, near rutting alpha pheromones filled the room. “For fucks sake, omega, your pussy’s fucking tight as shit! Don’t you have any real knotted toys?”

You couldn’t respond back, your body on the road to a complete shut down at the feeling of something other than silicone deep within your body, fingering and dragging against your pheromone soaked walls.

“Alpha, y-your fingers feel so good!” you gasp, your hips thrusting backward, enjoying the way his fingernails press onto your warm velvet walls. “So good, you make me feel so good already.”

“I’ve seen you all over the news,” Shigaraki growled low into your ear. “Talking about how you didn’t want an alpha, how you never needed to feel the tightness that a fat knot could bring you, and look at you now. I’ve barely touched you, barely begun to make you mine, and yet you’re already begging for me, omega.”

Your arms tug at the handcuffs, pathetically wanting them off. Exasperatedly seeking more friction from your newly bought alpha. You can’t think straight, can’t come up with a single response except the stupid apologetic, “I’m so sorry alpha, I didn’t know i-it would be y-you!”

“Don’t be shy on her, Shigaraki! Fuck the slutty omega already! Fucking knot and claim her in front of us, I want to hear the omega whore scream. It’s always hotter when it’s the first claim ever!”

“You better learn how to shut the fuck up, or I’ll kill you for interrupting my fucking session here,” Shigaraki seethed, his red, smoldering eyes ripping from yours and glaring at some loser alpha behind you. You couldn’t care. You only wanted what looked like the growing cock in Shigaraki’s pants; you wanted to feel the cock fill up your cunt, and his knot to lock you both in place.

You drooled at the thought, your loud, whimpering cries unable to keep from pouring out as the slick from your core seemed to pour endlessly from your pussy, demanding attention and a knot. “Breed me, fill me with your pups,” you begged fingers taking in his dirty fingers in your mouth, tongue wildly and uncontrollably flicking across his fingers in hopes it would be a sinking prayer of your promise to be good. “I want your knot, alpha, I want these stupid alphas to know you’re so much better than them~!”

Shigaraki’s once snarl fell when he looked at you, a slowly growing smirk falling on his face as his lips spread into a cruel smirk, one that had you moaning around his fingers as he pinched the pink muscle in your mouth before disappearing before you.

“I smelled your distress when I put my fingers up your sloppy little cunt right before the auction happened; I could tell even with your growing heat that you hated the feeling of my fingers up your pretty pussy. But look at you now, I haven’t even set you on my goddamn knot, haven’t stretched that tiny cunt to its max. You’re smelling better than a bitch in heat,” Shigaraki growled in your ear. His clothed chest pressing deliriously into your exposed back, the huge cock outline in his pants grinding incessantly into your wet core, undoubtedly leaving a damp patch where his cock ground into you. “You’re an actress, aren’t you, little omega? I bet you just needed this audience cheering your name to break your mind over this. How. Pathetic.”

And the pressure on your tongue is gone, the drool and saliva sticky and cold on your chin as you whimper for your alpha. You promised that it wasn’t right, it was just that you had been scared before, but your alpha was so strong, his pheromones so scary and mean, he could protect you and fill you up with so many pups you couldn’t help but to be excited now.

The smell of Shigaraki seemed to brighten, and you moaned when his hands pressed the white dress up, allowing for your naked ass to be seen by him and everyone who stayed to watch. Shigaraki squeezed your asscheeks away, chuckling at the way your small asshole clenched in your embarrassment and pain at how your hormone-driven heat demanded that he fuck you and knot you now.

“So fucking wet,” Shigaraki observed, his fingertips tracing the slick on your folds before a small pop told you that he licked you clean from his fingers. “Such sweet slick too, you really are a prime omega, little one.”

You whimpered, ass shaking for him to continue to touch you, to continue to fuck you more. 

“I don’t think you’re ready for my knot, precious omega,” Shigaraki taunted, and his words were a sealing deal in your lusting mind. Your hips knocking backward in some sort of desperation for more.

“She won’t,” commented the auctioneer.

“I will!” you scream, eyes filled with painful tears that could only be resolved with your alphas knot and claim. “I can take your knot, alpha!”

Shigaraki makes a small noise, and you choke at the feeling of something huge, nearly monstrous, shift into your cunt. You were a virgin, but even you knew that it was merely the head of his alpha thick cock, not enough for you to be satisfied, not far enough in you to breed or fuck you properly. All the moans in your throat were slightly painful, and the tears in your eyes continued to fall as you rocked your hips backward, trying to sink yourself further on his cock, wanting him deep in your womb.

You craved him.

“Ah, good, you can take more,” came the airy, almost insane driven coo of Shigaraki, the lack of humor making your cunt flutter against his thick, long cock. “Cry for your alpha, little omega.”

With that, Shigaraki slammed into you with no mercy, his cock bottoming out into you with a powerful, edging thrust. You screamed in pain, tears leaking from your eyes, and even with the pool of lubricating slick, his cock was far too big, incredibly thick that you felt your inner walls splitting in two as he fucked you as if you weren’t in delirious pain.

Drool and tears covered your arms, your painted fingers digging into the floorboards with crazy strength that you clawed scars on the floor as Shigaraki rutted deep within you.

Shigaraki commanded you with every thrust he gave, and soon the omega in you was cooing, howling for more, the pain of having your virginity ripped from right under you having become bubbling, glowing pleasure. You screamed in pleasure, Shigaraki grabbing onto your rolling hips to slam you back onto his cock, allowing for his thick cock to hit deep within you over and over again. The angle and power he possessed with every thrust were almost inhumane, nothing your lonely heat filled nights could ever dream of recreating ever. Shrill moans and pleas drowned out the annoying commentary of your onlookers, Shigaraki’s chest still flushed against your back, his hips landing heavily on your ass that was at this point raised because of the mount beneath you. 

“My alpha,” you babble, eyes unfocused, hazy, and incredibly heavy as you stared at some point on the wall, overwhelmed with the feeling of Shigaraki’s hot cock pounding in you. “My alpha, such a good alpha. His cock is making my tummy feel funny, making my pussy feel so tight. Please fill me with your children, I’ll be a good omega to you and them, I promise! I promise — I — oh myyy goddd — I promise, alpha!!!”

Shigaraki puffs up with the praise, but he continued to fuck into you roughly, mercilessly, as if you were nothing more than the breeding whore omega that he had purchased you for. The wet slaps and satisfying squelches rang in the blazing heat room, the smell of the pleasured and heat insane omega saturating deeply within his nose, and in the other's nose, the prideful smell of a satisfied alpha.

Your spongy walls clenched and spasmed against his penetrating, pounding cock, sometimes even forcibly because, by god, it was hot when his cock would twitch within your womb, especially against your cervix.

“Fuck, you’re so damn annoying,” Shigaraki snarled into your ear, his teeth biting and scraping along your neck, and you wailed when his teeth dragged over the sweet scent gland on your neck. The one and only place for mating bites to go. His hand gripped your hair, tugging your head back so that you could feel his rough facial skin rub up against yours. “If you want me to fill you with my pups, you better be the best fucking omega on this goddamn planet.”

“I can be the best! I’ll be the best!” you cried, your ass shifting backward to meet his drilling hips. 

The delirious sensation of his cock rocking against your cervix slowly begins to inflate the knot on his cock, restricting his still barbaric thrusting as he made to move faster. He wanted you to cum before he knotted entirely within you. 

The pressure in your stomach is scorching and impossibly tight, and he takes another long stripe at your scent gland. You tremble with need, your fingers tearing into the wooden floors. You can feel the knot on his cock swelling up, catching onto the opening of your cunt with every successive cunt, and you begin to cry, shake, and tremble as the knot becomes too big.

Your eyes cross, your tongue falling out of your mouth as you babble his name. Your walls clamp around his knotted cock with the ferocity of a vice, and your body jerks violently as you cum hard around his cock. The slick essence of your orgasm slipping out of the few lasting places open before Shigaraki’s knot fills you out entirely. Despite his cock unable to move, the swollenness of his knot preventing him from moving out of you, Shigaraki still shoves his weight into his hips, the inflated knot stretching your cock out so widely, your vision went white, and you came yet a second time.

A small pop was heard, and suddenly with a rush of thick, hot, and heavy white cum exploded within your womb, his teeth sink around your scent gland, marking you — mating you. He filled you, filled you, and filled you. His cum wouldn’t stop until your belly was swollen with his hot cum, and he eventually fell off of you with a shaky, shallow breath.

You still remained on the mount, your eyes unfocused, breaths mumbling to your alpha, a promise to carry out every single pup he gave you and would give you. You were his omega, his good little omega, and you would never disappoint your alpha. Not now, not ever.

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

The next week, you opened your door with a broad smile, your usual clothes replaced with a dress Shigaraki had picked for you and a frilly white apron on as your agent was standing outside of your house, eyes wide, mouth gaped at the still bleeding mate wound on your shoulder.

“Ah, how funny!” you laughed, waving your hand as you sighed dreamily, your eyes fluttering at the thought of your alpha who was on a business call right now. “I’m actually going to be quitting! My alpha and I have many plans right now, I gotta produce as many litters as I can, being an actress would never give me this sort of meaning in life!”

“B-But, you’re doing so much?! You have so much to do! You can’t give up?!”

“Oh, my love, we both know that I look much cuter with a pregnant belly! Don’t worry,” you smile, taking your agent's hand, brightly smiling at her one last time. “I’m sure all omegas will eventually find their alpha so they won’t be so depressed and angry like I was!”

Your agent doesn’t get another word in.

You slam the door in her face, your hands already resting on your belly that you knew was already growing the life of your first litter of pups. It had been known the second Shigaraki filled you up anymore.

You were a good little omega, and your alpha needed you!

[fanfic-cave]

Abandoned

Rating: SFW/PG-13 (although theres kissing and stuff if you dont want to read that in public)

Word Count: 2.2k

Pairing: Hunter x Fem Jedi!OC

Warnings: Angst, fighting and arguing, talks about order 66/jedi being killed, making out it gets a little heated ya’ll

Summary: Hunter has discovered Sera's intentions to abandon the team and leave. The have an argument, amongst other things. Does she stay, or will she leave the bad batch for good?

Authors note: More OC stuff, I just get scenes in my head and I have to write them out. This is the furthest ahead ive gotten in the story I think. I have ideas of other things (which kinda get hinted at here), but im not sure how exactly I want to accomplish them.

Be sure to check out my post and put in your 2 cents on what I should write next!

Tags: @mangoberry99

You walked into the small, dark room, with Hunter right on your heels. He was definitely mad at you.

You tightened the mask on your face, and kept your hood up. Hunter switched the lights on and shut the door. “You were going to leave?” Hunters voice was raised, practically growling. He whipped around to look at you, his eyebrows arched and nostrils flaring. Yup. Pissed.

“I don’t expect you to understand.” You folded your arms defensively. “Just cause you’re a Jedi?” Hunter spoke loudly. “You owe us an explanation.” Somehow you thought Hunter really meant that you owed him an explanation.

You turned your face away, saying nothing. You didn’t feel obliged to share anything, you just wanted to retreat and hide like you always had. Hunters mouth turned down into a frown, and you could tell he was getting more upset. “I hate to break it to you, but being a Jedi doesn’t make you more special or different than the rest of us-"

“Hold on a damn minute-" you interjected, uncrossing your arms.

“And you don’t get to shut us out just because you are one.” He spat it out and you felt your face heat up with anger. “You were going to go without saying goodbye, Sera. You realized how messed up that is?” He was yelling now.

“I told you, you wouldn’t understand!” You yelled back. Your hands balled up into fists.

“No, I don’t! How could you befriend us, gain our trust, and just leave? Omega-"

“Don’t.” you interrupted before he could finish. Your voice had lowered in pitch, but it was loud and it echoed around the room. “Don’t bring her into this.” You were doing this to protect them, especially her. You didn’t want him to guilt trip you by using her.

“It would’ve destroyed her. You can’t face that? That you were going to abandon her?”

“You have no right-!” You turned to face him, pointing a finger at him and walking up to him.

“Take that damn thing off.” Hunter said. You froze. You knew he was referring to the mask. He stared at you with a hard look on his face, still fuming with anger. “I said take it off.” He ordered.

You yanked it off and threw it at his feet, hoping to hit his foot. He easily moved his left foot to avoid getting hit. “Happy?” You threw up your hands as you said it, venom laced in your tone. Your mask felt like your defense, a protection. You felt safe with it, and you had worn it since abandoning the clone wars and the Jedi order. You felt too vulnerable and exposed without it right now.

“Don’t lecture me, I know what I was doing, and I-" your voice cracked. You took a step back and took a breath. “I thought it was better than the alternative.” Your voice was quieter now. You looked down, then you turned around, your back to him. You didn’t want to see him, to face him. You placed your hands on the table in front of you, leaning forward and taking slow deep breaths.

“How would that be better?” Hunter's voice was lower in volume, matching yours. He seemed upset, but not angry anymore. He sounded hurt, or maybe sad.

You finished another deep breath. “The Jedi are being hunted down. I can only hide for so long.” Your voice was much quieter now, barely above a whisper. You felt weight on your chest as you said it. You crossed your arms and hugged yourself, trying to squeeze away the tight feeling in your chest. Once you started, you couldn’t stop. “I could feel it when the Jedi were killed, Hunter. Thousands of voices being silenced. And now, I can feel it.” Hunter waited for you to finish. “The Empire knows there are hidden Jedi across the galaxy, and they’re going to come and find us.”

You turned to face him, tears in your eyes. Hunter looked worried as he listened to you, watching your movements. “If you’re with me, you could all be killed.” You choked out the last part, the tears coming out. You covered your mouth with your hands, trying to hold in the cries that escaped your mouth.

You squeezed your eyes tight and couldn’t see, but you felt arms wrapped around your shoulders and pulled you in. You received the hug and wrapped your arms around Hunters torso, then buried your face into his chest. You couldn’t keep it in anymore, the sobbing escaping you, ripping through your chest.

“Shh,” Hunter quietly began comforting you. You felt his hand stroking your hair, the other arm squeezing you tight against him. You held onto him as you cried, like holding him would help you hold yourself together.

You stayed there for a minute, quietly sobbing while Hunter stroked your hair and quieted your cries. After a minute had passed, he spoke. “You remember what I told you when we found out you were a Jedi?” He paused and you waited quietly, tears still rolling down your cheeks. “I said we would protect you.” You had stopped sobbing, and you took shaky breaths in and out.

You felt him kiss the top of your head. You pulled away from his chest to look up at him. He wiped the tears out of your eyes with his thumb. “I promise, I won’t let the Empire kill you,” he had grabbed your chin, and looked into your eyes with intensity as he spoke. You smiled at his optimism. Normally you might argue that he couldn’t guarantee that, but he looked so set in his decision. You didn’t think you could persuade him otherwise.

He leaned in to press his forehead against yours, and you met him halfway, enjoying the moment of closeness. You felt like he was grounding you, keeping you here in the moment instead of fearing for the future. “Is this okay?” You felt his breath hit your face as he spoke. It was warm, and he smelled nice. You nodded. He squeezed you around the waist and pulled you in tighter, your hips now touching.

You felt your heart skip a beat. You two had never been quite this affectionate. You had an idea that Hunter might feel something more than friendship towards you. There had been moments, exchanged glances, lingering touches. Conversation where you both opened up, and had been vulnerable with each other. You already knew how you felt, but never were quite sure where exactly he stood.

You opened your eyes, and examined his face. You could see details that you couldn’t make out without being this close. The details in his tattoos, the shape of his eyes, of his face, his mouth. You felt yourself become more brave. You tilted your face to the right, your nose skimming past his. His lips were not even an inch away from yours now.

You saw Hunter's eyes open, and he was watching you. You waited, not wanting to advance more without permission. You held eye contact for a moment. He looked at you questioningly, processing what you were doing. You waited for him to pull away or come closer. You quietly froze there, the two of you only breathing and examining each other in your closeness, neither of you sure what would happen. You found yourself getting lost in his brown eyes for that short moment.

Suddenly Hunters lips were against yours, his hand at the back of your neck, fingers reaching into your hair. You breathed in through your nose, and your bodies began to move together. You felt yourself rise up to your toes to reach him, to get closer. Your arms were still wrapped around his torso, and you pulled yourself closer to him, just as his other hand gently pushed you in from the small of your back, trying to close every gap between your bodies.

After a minute, Hunter pulled away to allow yourselves a second to breath. He studied your face, like he was trying to memorize it. “It’s about damn time.” You said between breaths, and he laughed. His eyes seemed to light up with excitement. You reached up to his neck and brought him back in. You felt a burning in your chest as you continued kissing him. You wrapped your fingers around his biceps, and began to push him towards the nearest wall. He let you move him, his arms around your waist, making sure you came right along with him. You went back up on your toes, reaching to kiss him.

Hunters hands shifted away from you, then you felt them grab you underneath your thighs. You were suddenly lifted up, your legs reflexively wrapping around him. You gasped and broke from the kiss, holding onto him to keep yourself from falling.

“I’ve got you.” He spoke confidently, placing one hand on your shoulder as the other fully held you up. Then, he took a few steps and set you down on the table. Your face was now an even height with his. You made a face “You think I’m too short to kiss you?” You huffed out. Hunter smiled and said “You are kinda short-“

“Oh shut up.” You grabbed his shoulders and forcefully brought him back in. You tightened your legs on him, as if trying to lock him in place. He had one hand on your hip, the other touched the back of your shoulder where your bare skin was exposed. It felt like a fire was ignited where his fingertips met your skin. Hunter broke away and planted kisses on your cheek, then he moved to your jaw. You felt yourself reach at his shirt on his back, tempted to start pulling at it. You felt intoxicated by the moment, drinking in the bliss you felt as his kisses moved to your neck.

Wait. How did I get here again?

You released him and pulled away gently as the thought crossed your mind. Hunter stopped and took a step back from you, being sure to give you space if you wanted it. Your legs no longer were wrapped around him, you sat on the table and Hunter stood just a foot away from you. “Did I overstep?” Hunter asked. He watched you carefully, concern written all over his face.

“No, no I loved that Hunter,” you reached your hand out and grabbed his. You gave him a reassuring squeeze. “I’m just trying to process. Weren’t we just fighting?” You looked back up at him. He looked up, trying to recall the events. “Right, and then you were crying-“

“And now we’re kissing.” You laughed and shook your head. “That really escalated huh?” You looked back up to him as you spoke. Hunter was smiling, he looked genuinely happy.

You ran your hand through your hair, your braid now very much messed up. You began to undo it. Hunters smile faded and his eyebrows knitted together.

“What is it?” You asked.

“You won’t leave, right?” He asked, the brooding expression you were all too familiar with was set back onto his face.

“Oh.” Right, I was going to leave. You felt your heart squeeze. “No, I don’t think I will.” You said after thinking. Hunter sighed in relief. “Good.” He approached you again, wrapping his arms around your waist. “I wouldn’t let you anyways.” You raised your eyebrows at him. “Oh, you wouldn’t let me?” Like he could stop me. You kept that thought in your head.

“No.” He spoke firmly. His eyes locked with yours, and he looked determined. “I know the empire is hunting down the last of the Jedi, but we’re not exactly on good terms with them either.” You listened as he spoke.

“I don’t like the thought of you trying to survive on your own. I’ve always had my brothers, and having a squad, or a family, to rely on has gotten us all through it. I want you to rely on us, let us help you.” He put a hand on your cheek as he finished, and leaned in closer to you. He looked almost sad as he said it. You realized if he really cared about you, the thought of you leaving must hurt as much as leaving him would’ve hurt you.

You took a deep breath, then spoke. “Since I left the order, and the war, I’ve always been on my own. Having someone to rely on again has been a bit of an adjustment.” Hunter kept his eyes fixed on you, hand still on your cheek. You moved to put your hand on top of his. “I’m still learning how not to run, and I don’t want to run from you.” You squeezed his hand and looked into his eyes. “Honestly, I think I love you.”

Hunters eyes widened a bit as you said it. You smiled and you could feel yourself blushing. Now, though, you weren’t ashamed.

You saw Hunters eyes move to the door and back to you. Then you heard foot steps and Omega calling for Hunter. “I love you too.” He whispered it, and the door opened.

I know. You mouthed it, then slid off the table to stand next to him. You could practically hear him roll his eyes and you smiled.

I don’t think I could leave now. Not even if I wanted to.

[toxicbubblegum212]

Maze runner ~ Thomas saw everything ~ Part 2

Maze runner ~ Newt x reader Jealous of Thomas part 1

Maze runner ~ Into the deadheads with Thomas ~ part 3 warning lots of fighting and feels.

Note: Part 1 18+ sexual scene, rough sex and semi forced.

You woke up with a familiar smell, you eyes slowly fluttered open and you realised it was Newt but where was he? You were a bit disappointed that Newt wasn't there. You would have loved to see his bed hair oh he would have looked so cute.

You snap out of your bay dream hearing voices down stairs...it sounded like Thomas...and newt fighting. You slowly get up and sneak your way over to the door careful not to make any creaking sounds alerting the two. You press your ear up against the door.

Thomas: Where is she Newt!!

Newt: What are you on about Thomas?..*looks unfazed by his presents*

Thomas: You KNOW WHAT THE HELL IM ON ABOUT! *getting very irritated thinking bout what happened between the you and Newt last night*

Newt: Cool it Slinthead!!!

Thomas: Shuck no WHERE IS SHE!!!

Newt: *becomes quite*

Thomas: I know what you did last night!

Newt: She's mine Thomas, i thought you would have gotten that through your head.

Thomas: Bet you she was thinking bout me...

Newt: Go ahead Thomas, try and prove me wrong but do a favour for me and tell me how my dick tastes. *whispers in Thomas's ear*

Thomas: SHUCK U *shoves Newt out the way making his way up the stairs*

You quickly make your way over to the bed hopping in, you hold your breath trying to calm it down. You pretend to sleep in hopes that you will not have to confront Thomas not at this time. Thomas quietly openly the door stepping in, he makes his way over to you. You can see his shadow creeping over. Your could feel your legs and hands shaking, "Y/N.." Thomas softly cooed in your ear. "wake up". His voice was so soothing, it sent shivers down your spine. You finally turn over gazing up at him. He had is soft smile and loving eyes, this was the part of Thomas you always missed.

Y/N: Hey Thomas..whats up?

Thomas: Y/N you know whats up!

Y/N: No i don't Thomas..

Thomas: *Pulls sheets down to looking at your bare chest*

Y/N: Aahh Thomas!! *you try your best to cover yourself up with your arms*

Thomas: Explain all these damn hickeys to me!

Y/N: Thomas....

Thomas: What Y/N! what kinda of slut wou-

Y/N: I Shucking love him Thomas, I DIDN'T SHUCK HIM LIKE SOME MINDLESS SLUT SO DON'T EVEN THINK BOUT GOING THERE WITH ME! *You could feel your frowned eyebrows and scrunches up face*

Thomas: *he grew quite*

Y/N: Get out Thomas...*you say lowly looking at the ground*

Thomas: No

Y/N: THOMAS!!!!

Thomas: NO Y/N! Give me a chance...

Y/N: Don't screw me over Thomas, i already know about you an Teresa!

Thomas: ARE YOU SERIOUS!

Y/N: YES I AM SERIOUS THOMAS!

Thomas:....listen Y/N..., im sorry...this whole time the only person i wanted was you. Yes i loved Teresa but everyday all i would think about was shucking you. I mad cause Newt beat me to you, but i know i was being selfish wanting both you and Teresa. But ive made up my mind now...

Y/N: Thomas i can't!

Thomas: Why not!

Y/N: please just leave Thomas....

Thomas: *looked very hurt but did as you asked*

Newt: *Listened to the whole thing and was waiting outside*

Thomas: * gave him a dirty look before making his way down stairs*

Newt walked in seeing you curled up in a ball. The blankets acted like a shield, you we struggling right now. Tears started flowing Thomas had no idea what he had done to you. All those months he spent with Teresa and pushed you aside, the fact that he's making you question if Newt loves you. Tears started to escape and your heart started to ache. Newt could hear you quietly sobbing, he place a hand on your head stroking your hair, he leans down kissing your cheek.

You wrap your arms around him, crying into his shoulder. "I know love things a hard..." He rubbed your back and continued to give you kisses on the cheek. "please don't cry love..." Newt stayed there for a couple a minutes before permitting you to have a day off, you were clearly in now state for working. He kisses your cheek goodbye and promises to return with food.

Time skips Breakfast

Newt grabbed a pan of food one for him and one for you. He was in a rush as he wanted to see how you were doing to make sure that you were ok.

Alby: Hey Newt could you come over here i need to talk to you for a second?

Newt: I need to take this to Y/N

Alby: Thomas can take it to her

Sure enough Thomas was right there smiling smugly and Newt. Newt shoved the bowl at Thomas clearly very unhappy. Newt couldn't stop thinking bout you and bout Thomas. He just hoped that you were safe and that you could deal with him on your own.

Thomas eagerly made his way over to the homestead and up the stairs. Quietly entering the room once more, this time you were actually asleep. Thomas marvelled at your beauty, you look to at peace. Thomas couldn't help himself he leaned down a kissed your cheek. It was warm and soft very different to Newt's. Thomas made his way down your neck pushing the blanket aside. He could hear you breathing pitch and your soft groans. You eyes slowly open to see Thomas.

Y/N: Thomas!!!

Thomas: Y/N just hear me out...

Y/N:....

Thomas: Newt doesn't have to know about this!

Y/N: Thomas i told yo-

Thomas: Y/N just let me love you *rubs you bottom lip with his thumb*

Y/N: Thomas....

Thomas: I know you still have feelings for me...

Y/N: *for once in your life you we silent*

Thomas: *smiles warmly*

Thomas: Get some rest and meet me in the dead heads later tonight...

Y/N: Hmm i wonder what for?? *smirks*

Thomas: Oh you know *smiles as he kisses you passionately whilst his hand pulled down the sheet and lifted up your shirt. He kissed down your neck careful not to leave any hickeys for Newt. He kissed down the valley in between your breast* Bye beautiful don't miss me too much.

Like for part 3

Find out what happens in the deadheads.

[mimik-u]

Flower Child, Chapter 19 (Blue IV)

AO3 Link

i.

Thursday, July 5th, 8:38AM:

Blue: Hello, Steven… how are you this morning?

Steven: tired.

Blue: I’m sorry.

Blue: Is there anything I can do?

Steven: no

Steven: I don’t think so

With one hand, Blue Diamond held her phone aloft and read Steven’s bare reply again and again. And with the other, she gently massaged her aching right hip, kneading her spiny knuckles gently over the bone beneath the thin layer of her nightgown. 

She’d slept on it the wrong way.

Had tossed and turned all night, nightmaring.

And she didn’t need a psychoanalyst to tell her what it meant that her dead daughter erupted from a wilting hibiscus flower before transforming into Steven Universe, who dissolved into petals as she tried to cling onto them both—her smile, his laugh, her freckles, his hair, all crumbling beneath her fingertips into pollen and pieces. Pearl’s words echoed in the dark chapel of her own head as she gathered the petals in her palms: “Start with a flower and a smile, perhaps.”

Help him, Blue.

Don’t look away.

(You’ve always been so good at looking away.)

In the end, she laid her phone facedown on the bed and rubbed her sore hip in the curtained darkness of her room for a few minutes longer. It was unclear to herself whether she was trying to soothe the pain or grate it in just a mica deeper, one sensitive knuckle movement at a time.

Either way, she was only giving herself what she deserved. 

Relief.

Injury.

And perhaps both at the exact same time.

A cocktail of them both—shaken, not stirred.

It was only when the alarm clock on the bedside table indicated that ten minutes had passed in silence and arthritic torture that she endeavored to apprehend her cane with both hands, violently wrenching herself into a standing position, briefly throwing her world into dizzying spirals. Blue closed her eyes against the initial nausea and told herself that she had to go on.

In so many more ways than just simply one.

She glanced fleetingly at the hibiscus that still remained on her nightstand, now withered around the edges, now graying, and thought to herself that perhaps she could save it if she acted fast, pressing it between the pages of a favorite book—an Austen, a Homer, a Kierkegaard.

Preserving it.

Start with a flower and a smile, perhaps.

Help him, Blue.

Don’t look away.

The sounds of her cane were muffled in the carpet as she made a detour to the bathroom to grab her robe, pulling on the worn garment like an old friend, the collar flush against her long neck. And then, her movements as stiff as they were laborious, she made her way from the bathroom back to the bedroom and then into the vast, empty hall—at the end of which the living room was framed in an arch of white, morning light. 

Clank, she barely glanced at the door leading into the study because she knew Yellow wouldn’t be in there.

The door was completely closed, which was a telltale sign in and of itself.

Clank.

Assorted images from the previous evening sifted through her head like grains of falling sand, salting her unsettled thoughts as she moved forward, her bare feet tracing the smooth wooden planks.

Clank.

They had sat in the backseat together on the car ride home from the hospital yesterday and dared to hold hands, fingers intertwining, palms touching.

Lifelines.

Yellow was as warm as Blue was cold, the gathering of their skin simply electric. 

Clank.

The sky outside the tinted glass windows had been the precise shade of a bruised peach—gold around the edges and a darker amber within. There were cream colored clouds that swirled and swirled through the ripening sky, becoming milky wisps in the places where they spread too thin.

Blue stared upwards into these vaulting heavens and thought fleetingly about beauty, how it could come from the most mundane of places.

In the continuous cycles of an ever-changing sky.

In children who gave flowers to random strangers at cemeteries.

In laughter.

In sadness.

Even in grief.

The fading light dusted the crown of her wife’s blonde head.

A slight frown pulled at her lips.

And there was great beauty and great sadness in this, too.

Paradoxes and contradictions.

“What are you thinking about?” Blue had asked, absently skimming her thumb along the side of Yellow’s hand, tracing every line, relearning every divot and groove.

“My luck,” Yellow returned in that familiar dry voice of hers. “That wreck could have been… disastrous.”

“Yes.” The word was hushed in her throat, cloistered, the possibilities that it engendered too much to bear: Yellow injured, Yellow dying, Yellow gone. The worst hypothetical had never felt more real to her than in the handful of hours that had elapsed between her doorbell ringing and rushing to the hospital in the dead of night.

With Pink, there had been no likewise chance.

No hospital to go to.

Only a morgue.

“Did… what’s her name… you know—the new valet—did she make it out alright? I forgot to ask.”

“She did,” Blue confirmed with a small nod. “Topaz—I mean. Only a few cuts on her face from what I understood. I gave her a temporary leave of absence.”

“Good,” Yellow sighed, relief palpable in her low voice. “Excellent.”

Her frown incrementally shifted, becoming the barest of smiles.

Subtle.

Almost easy to miss.

Clank.

They had ascended the elevator side by side, too, Yellow pulling her special keycard out from the pocket of her immaculately pressed shirt with fumbling fingers, and Blue could tell that she was tired by this uncharacteristic clumsiness alone.

“Let me,” she whispered before gently apprehending the card and slotting it into the reader that would grant them immediate access to their floor.

It was a tiny kindness.

Somehow, it was far more than that, too.

Yellow stared at her, eyes wide, and said, “Thank you.”

“It was nothing,” Blue murmured, a dull flush coloring her cheeks as she returned the card, slipping it back to where it belonged.

The doors opened slowly, welcoming the Diamonds home.

Clank.

Blue had insisted that Yellow sleep in the bed, that she needed a good night’s rest after all that she had been through, but Yellow was infuriatingly stubborn to the last—intransigent, inflexible, chivalrous—protesting that she didn’t want to aggravate Blue’s hip problem.

She’d be fine on the couch.

It only hit her later that night, as she laid in that bed that was much too big for her, that she could have invited her wife to come to bed with her.

But the thought scared her as much as it intrigued her.

She pushed it to the side, tabling it for a later date.

(Coward.)

Clank. 

The living room was dressed in a pale sunshine coat when Blue finally arrived at the very edge of it, her oceanic eyes washing over the scene until they lit upon Yellow Diamond, stretched beneath a thin blanket on the white couch, fast asleep, soft snores emitting from her half-open mouth.

In the hours that had elapsed, her wounds didn’t appear as angry as they had done yesterday, and there was already a little discoloration around the edges of her stitches that suggested that they were already beginning to do the complicated work of healing—as transitory wounds tended to do. 

Blue lifted the bottom of her cane now so it no longer thudded against the floor with each slow and deliberate footfall; she could retain her balance for that long, or, if she couldn’t, then she’d very well know it was likely time she had that hip replacement her physician kept threatening at each of her successive appointments.

But she didn’t waver.

Didn’t fall.

Miraculously refrained from breaking.

Long enough to reach the creamy ottoman in front of the couch, which Yellow had apparently used in lieu of a nightstand. Her reading glasses were folded neatly atop of yesterday’s copy of The Empire City Times, the crossword section right side up.

She’d almost finished it, lacking only two-across: ANTONYM OF CRUELTY.

And the answer, Blue Diamond could plainly see, was grace.

Fondness for her wife, exquisite and painful tenderness, unexpectedly erupted in the column of her throat—a rush of love, a flurrying sensation, spreading all over, both trickling water and raging fire, paradoxes and contradictions. And suddenly, all impulse, thought swept away by feeling, feeling unknotting her hesitant bones, Blue gingerly bent down and brushed the sharp line of Yellow’s jaw where sunlight had already scribbled itself in patches. She was a child running curious fingers along the edge of a forbidden shelf. She was a butterfly tentatively skimming a blade of grass. She was a broken mother trying to learn how to be unbroken again. She was a loving wife.

She hadn’t been intending to wake her—had only wanted to touch—but somewhere in the space of four awful years, Yellow had apparently learned to be a light sleeper. Her golden eyes flew open at the gesture, catching Blue in the act. 

“Blue,” she murmured, shocked, disbelieving, as though she wasn’t entirely convinced that she wasn’t dreaming. “Good morning.”

“Good morning,” Blue returned softly and at least had enough decency to look ashamed. (For what exactly? She wasn’t necessarily sure. Somehow, she just knew that it was a very shameful thing to touch her wife. To caress her gently after so many days and months and years of having not done it.) “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“No, no,” Yellow protested, sitting up abruptly to make room for Blue on the half-rumpled couch. The movement must have been too sudden for her sore body because she briefly winced, glancing downwards at her leg. “I should be getting up anyway. What time is it anyway? Seven? Seven-thirty?”

Blue remembered the timestamp that had accompanied Steven’s last message, and a frown bruised her lips as she slowly lowered herself by her wife’s side, balancing herself on the head of her cane.

“Closer to nine, I believe.”

Yellow blinked once, disbelief turning to cross bemusement in the slightest shift of her brow as she searched for the truth in her wife’s long face.

“Seriously?”

“More or less.” Blue’s lips slightly rippled, and Yellow shook her head with disgust, the emotion snarling across her weathered face.

“I haven’t slept in past eight since I was in college,” she muttered, pushing a hand through her sleep-straggled hair. “Goodness, that’s unusual.”

“You were exhausted,” Blue proffered immediately, as though this was explanation and excuse enough, but Yellow only shook her head again, refusing her own defense just as quickly as Blue had risen to it.

“Not anymore than usual,” came the stubborn reply. There wasn’t argument in her voice, so much as there was an edge, inwardly pointed.

Because that was the thing about Yellow Diamond.

She saved her sharpest words for herself, lancing her own criticisms deep into her skin in order to forcibly teach herself how to do better the next day. Blue knew better than to challenge her when she did this, for Yellow did enough challenging to herself.

So she looked away and allowed Yellow to punish herself and lapsed into contemplative silence, thinking about Steven again, threading her fingers together on top of her robed lap: his sunken face, his lachrymose messages, his careworn caretakers, and all of their collectively haunted eyes. Even glancing out onto the sun-warmed balcony was enough to conjure the image of him sitting beside her in the chair that usually belonged to Yellow and eating one of Holly Agatha’s famous chocolate cakes.

The one he would later throw up.

Because he was sick.

Terribly so.

“Blue?” Yellow’s voice was soft, prodding, hesitant, awkward—full of all the dichotomies and contradictions that their relationship seemed to have been built on these last four years. They both loved each other.

Surely. 

Deeply. 

Beyond a shadow of a doubt.

They were equally afraid to say it aloud.

“Is something troubling you?”

Blue’s turned away from the balcony and faced her wife again—the stitches on her sharply hewn jaw, the complicated emotions in her golden eyes, the sharp set of her frown—and wondered what would happen if she simply told her the truth, if she laid it nakedly between them and simply waited for a response.

It was terrifying to be vulnerable with another.

Somehow, in the midst of everything, she remembered that it was necessary.

“Steven Universe,” she finally whispered, the name less like a name and more like a confession, gently handed over between the sliding partition in a wooden booth. “I’m worried about him. I talked to one of his guardians yesterday, and he isn’t… doing well.”

Yellow’s face grappled with the news, appearing far more stricken than Blue could have ever expected of her.

When she frowned, the lines beneath her eyes darkened and creased, making her appear ancient.

Haunted.

“I know,” she said unexpectedly.

“You do?” Blue couldn’t help herself—she arched an incredulous brow, and her wife’s cheeks promptly colored in response, the pink feathering the sickly purple of her bruises. It wasn’t a particularly handsome effect.

“I met him the other night,” she muttered, a little impish, a little stiff, glancing away. “I was curious. I wanted to know what he looked like.”

Blue didn’t know what was more astonishing—the fact that Yellow had visited Steven in the first place or the miraculousness of her actually admitting to it so plainly. Neither action seemed particularly characteristic to a woman who attempted to subjugate all of her emotions beneath the sleeves of her immaculately ironed shirt.

But she could see the truth of the words in the tense sobriety of her profile.

And she knew, from experience, that as astonishingly unlikely as it was for Yellow Diamond to visit a sickly child in the hospital, it was even less likely that she would lie about it in the first place.

And so Blue did what she could to collect her face, but she was fairly sure that trace remnants of her surprise still remained because her wife scoffed, the color of her cheekbones still a rosé red, sweet and mild.

“You don’t have to look so shocked.”

“I’m… I’m not shocked,” she protested immediately, her own features shading themselves in. “I’m just—”

But Blue Diamond, eloquent though she was, could not find another fitting word, and Yellow Diamond, seemingly despite her better judgment, laughed once, the sound harsh and warm in that airy, light-filled living room.

“Shocked,” she repeated emphatically, shaking her head.

“You’ve disarmed me before I’ve taken my morning tea,” Blue mumbled, a little petulance in her voice, a little play.

“Good,” Yellow sniffed, half-grimacing, half-smiling. “I’m glad to see I can still keep you on your toes.”

And then they both stared at each other—nakedly, unflinchingly—quite painfully aware that they were on the verge of making each other laugh for the first time in years, and the solemnity of the occasion brought them both back to themselves.

Blue frowned so easily that it was only muscle memory, primal reflex.

And Yellow followed suit, the sunlight raking itself across her wounded face.

“And what did you think of him?” Blue asked, both wanting the answer and dreading it. She slightly learned towards her wife; part of her wished to flee; and because she didn’t flee, because she stayed, the contradiction manifested as a twisting of her gut, a turning.

“A little impetuous…” Yellow said immediately, her voice low, distant with memory. “Annoyingly happy… but good, I think. Smart for his age. Kind. He almost reminded me of—”

But she caught herself just in time—stricken, terrified, revolted.

And Blue’s heart nearly failed with the simple proximity of her daughter’s ghost, of the closeness of her nearly evoked name.

But they danced through the horrible moment.

Silently. 

Together.

Yellow swallowed thickly, and Blue Diamond was merciful; she gently took her wife’s splinted hand.

“Pink,” she murmured softly, the word, the name, the ghost reverent on her tongue.

Holy.

“Those eyes,” Yellow croaked painfully, folding her fingers into the gaps between Blue’s own. “That wide smile.”

“I know,” Blue whispered. “I know.”

“I can see why you like him, Blue,” she said seriously. “He hooks you in.”

Blue’s mind worked far ahead of her. Even though she didn’t explicitly articulate it, even though she likely never would, it was clear that Yellow was amongst this number. 

She liked Steven Universe.

She cared.

“Before you even know it,” she agreed softly. “Before you’re even aware.”

“It’s all so very sudden,” Yellow muttered uncomfortably, frowning, a divot forming between her dark brow.

And Blue thought to herself, very quietly, that that was the nature of love, really. 

It was all so very sudden.

And beautiful and extraordinary and rare.

And sad and horrible and tragic.

And lasting.

Even when it happened suddenly.

(Even when it was suddenly taken away.)

“What isn’t in this world?” Blue murmured, and she gently skimmed the side of her wife’s hand with her thumb, watching as this simple revelation played out across her powerful features.

Smoothing them.

Sanding and softening all those rough edges.

“Frankly,” she finally said, smiling a little sadly, “I have no damn clue.”

ii.

Once upon a time, there was a princess, a knight, and a little elven girl, all tucked up in bed together, side by side by side. 

Blue ran her fingers through her daughter’s mass of curly hair as she snored lightly. Her tiny hand was curled into the front of Yellow’s pajama shirt, knobbly fingers twisted into the fabric, secure there. She’d fallen asleep protesting the need for sleep, trying to convince her mothers for one story more, and just as Blue had finally conceded—she rarely ever didn’t when it came to Pink—her hooded eyes drifted to a close beneath the gentle lamp-strewn haziness of the room, where she was warm.

Safe.

Loved.

For that was the crucial fact, the fundamental thing—Pink Diamond was loved most of all.

“We’re never going to have a sex life again, are we?” Yellow lamented, slanting a honey-eyed gaze at her wife over the top of Pink’s head.

Amusement in the expression.

Fondness.

Blue laughed lightly and could not help but play along, teasing her body upwards so that she was propped on her elbow, and she could look at her wife properly, drinking in the way she looked at ten o’clock at night, with her hair still a little wet from the shower. There was a certain gentleness in her hawklike face that she tended to eschew during the day around business colleagues, subordinates, and clients, but here, in the safety of their shared bedroom, it had always been implicitly understood that even birds of prey had to roost, too.

“It isn’t too late, you know,” Blue returned, her voice warm, low, suggestive . Yellow had started it after all; it was only fair that she finished. “We can simply move her to her own bed…”

“And chance waking her up again? Hell, no. It was an ordeal just getting her to sleep.”

“The couch is always an option.”

Yellow scoffed imperiously, poking her lips out in a magnificent imitation of her mother’s trademark pout.

“Every time we try that, one of us falls off the damn thing.”

“Hey,” Blue laughed again, causing a heavy strand of hair to fall from where it had been swept from behind her ear, “I wasn’t the one who vouched for hardwood floors.”

Yellow pulled on a faux-offended look like it was one of her favorite ties, dramatically starfishing one of her hands across her chest, exactly where her collared pajama shirt dipped into a vee.

“Well excuse me for thinking that carpet looks outdated.”

“You’re impossible,” Blue smiled gently, shaking her head.

“I believe the word you’re looking for is practical .”

And then, because it was late at night, and they were tired and being stupid, and there was a baby in the bed between them, the two of them caught each other’s eye and couldn’t help themselves, collapsing into laughter that was lovely and loud and ridiculous enough to make Pink briefly stir, her ears twitching irritably at the disturbance.

And then, because this was somehow incredibly funny even though it really, really wasn’t, they laughed some more—silently this time albeit—before eventually flicking off both of their lamps and wrapping their arms around their daughter in the cool darkness, fingers meeting precisely in the middle.

iii.

Friday, July 6th, 9:20AM:

Blue: Hello, Steven. Are you feeling better today?

Blue: If you are, I would love to come visit you again soon. 

Steven: not really

Steven: sorry, Blue

Saturday, July 7th, 9:51AM:

Blue: Just checking in, sweet boy. Respond only when you feel up to it.

Blue: And if that’s not at all… that is perfectly okay, too.

They took their tea and coffee out on the balcony, Blue assuming the right armchair and Yellow the left, and somehow, there was both a rightness and a wrongness to these simple actions.

Because this was new.

And yet, achingly familiar.

One week ago today, they danced this same vicious dance, drinking coffee, drinking tea, sitting in these chairs, appropriating a sense of normality that they did not feel. And the memory of their failed ruse swallowed a lot of the precious oxygen in the air, making it hard for either of them to speak. Blue spidered her hand across her sternum, the tips of her long fingers touching spiny collarbone, and tried to remind herself how to breathe.

Yellow was more finicky in her discomfort, her careworn face drawn as she bobbed her left leg up and down, the heel of her slipper flicking arrhythmically against the smooth floor. And the sun that she stared at was the precise color of a healing bruise, pale ochre against a silver sky. And the bruises on her angularly hewn face were mottled in the strange light, pulsing like miniature supernovas, burning, gradually dulling.

“I heard it was going to rain tomorrow,” the businesswoman eventually said, and it was clear from the way that her voice was clipped that she didn’t really want to talk about the weather.

“I saw that, too,” Blue Diamond replied in a low voice. “On the news, I believe.” She had seen no such thing, in fact, but they were talking again, she and Yellow, and that was something that would occasionally take baby steps.

Weather talk.

Mere pleasantries.

Scratching the deep, dark surfaces with fingernails.

But then, because the weather could only take them so far, they lapsed into a silence that was its own person, sitting indelicately in the space between them.

Pink hair.

Constellation freckles.

A black hoodie.

A mischievous smile.

Once upon a time, there was a princess, a knight, and a little elven girl, who hadn’t been so little anymore—not really. She’d been tall and willowy and full of passion for a life she had yet to live. She’d been twenty-one, but both of her mothers had treated her like she was twelve. 

And they loved her, but they suffocated her. 

And they loved her, but they ignored her. 

And they loved her, but the awful and unbearable truth of the matter was that love was not enough. 

Love was the foundation, but it had to be built upon with care and attentiveness—with perceptive eyes and willing ears and flexible hearts. It required sacrifice. It demanded compromise. Mutability. Vulnerability. Change.

And so Blue and Yellow loved Pink Diamond, down to their marrow, down to all the atoms in their four hundred and twelve collective bones, but they failed her in so many of those other important respects. 

And they paid the steep price.

Because once upon a time, the little elven girl who wasn’t so little anymore had had enough of her own fairytale and dreamed of carving out another.

She sought freedom and adventure.

She was daring; she wished to rebel.

But when she did for the first time (and the last), when she snuck out of her palace of a room, there were monsters out there, and nothing in the world had ever prepared her for monsters—not even her parents, who had slain their fair share of monsters: dragons and greedy businessmen and hardhearted mothers.

And so she died, and the princess and the knight were left alone in their high tower to lose their goddamn minds.

In separate rooms.

Away from each other.

They mourned and mourned and mourned.

And on that sun-paled balcony, before she knew it, before she could stop herself, Blue Diamond’s eyes were pooling with hot tears. She tried to swipe them away, so Yellow wouldn’t see, wouldn’t chide her, wouldn’t scold, but Yellow had already seen—of course she had already seen—and her golden eyes were wide.

Lined.

Horror-struck.

“I’m sorry,” Blue pleaded reflexively, covering her face with her tall hands. She was always so very sorry. “I was just... I was thinking of her and I couldn’t help it... and I’m—“

“Don’t apologize, Blue,” Yellow cut across her hoarsely, her voice a sharp knife on the edge of breaking. “Don’t ever feel like you have to apologize to me.”

But Blue didn’t think that this was a particularly healthy way of looking at things either. There were so many things she felt the need to apologize for.

(All of them had to do with looking away.)

“But—“

“Because I was thinking about her, too.” 

The sentence was an admission, rushed, expulsive, thrown to the floor like it was a bomb ready to ignite.

Yellow abruptly flinched, and Blue did, too, waiting for the aftermath of the blow that didn’t quite come. 

So now there was an invisible body in the space between them and a ticking time bomb on the floor. 

Company was always diverse in the Diamonds’ penthouse suite.

Perpetually attuned to their self-made demons.

“You were?” Blue’s voice verged on the edge of offensively wondrous. She dared to look at her wife in the gaps between her fingers, slicing her statuesque profile into vees. Her stern jaw. Her world-weary eyes. The lines crisscrossing her face. The defeated hunch of her Atlantean shoulders.

Blue pulled her fingers downwards until they were tightly clenching the lapels of her robe, fingers sinking into the thin fabric, knuckles turning white at the grip.

“How could I not be?” Each word was acerbic, gritted through the teeth, self-loathing. “Just last week, we did this, too, and I hurt you then… I’ve hurt you so many times over Pink. I should be the one who is saying sorry.”

Yellow looked over then, her face desperately open, as though she was trying to convey the force of her raw penance by expression alone.

How tortured she was.

How craven.

Feral.

Agonized.

Undone.

“And I am sorry, Blue,” she continued, the lines beneath her eyes contracting harshly. “I am so sorry—for every wrong I’ve ever done to you. For every time I’ve made you feel wrong for grieving Pink. I… I have no excuse, no semblance of a justification… I just…” But she violently interrupted herself, her ferociousness seemingly drained from her body as she jerked forward, elbows on her knees, dragging a hand across the whole of her face, uncaring of her stitches.

And she remained like that for what felt like an eternity, a statue ruined, palm covering her mouth

Staring wide-eyed into space.

Into an awfully bruised sky.

Blue Diamond’s entire nervous system was in total disrepair as she looked at her wife.

And tried to comprehend the words she had just said, the very ones she had resigned herself to never hearing. 

Because for all the four years that she had grieved and grieved, Yellow had been right there beside her, insisting that she should get a grip on herself, should get better, should move on.

And here was the apology for all those awful words.

Here was the proof that they had existed, and that they had injured, and that they had hurt.

The creased skin around Yellow’s eyes was damp.

Her robed shoulders trembled.

“Yellow Clytemnestra Diamond,” Blue finally whispered, the name less invocation than it was admonition, less admonition than it was cruelty, less cruelty than it was love, “you cannot honestly believe that it is that simple.”

That caught her attention.

Yellow jerked her head in Blue’s direction so quickly that it looked painful.

“What?”

“Can’t you see?” She asked, a pleading note in her voice as she leaned a little across the gap between their chairs, her silvery hair falling in loose gossamer curtains around her face. “It isn’t all just you, and it isn’t all just me either. It’s both of us. Together. My God and my goodness, it always has been.”

“Don’t be absurd,” Yellow snapped, her face leached of its color as she scrabbled for purchase, for a reasonable ledge upon which to mount her own cross. “You were grieving, and I kept pushing you. I couldn’t stand watching you fall apart.”

“But you were grieving, too, Yellow!” Blue all but shrieked, desperate to impress upon her wife how important it was to acknowledge the unplumbed depths of her pain.

To own it, by God.

To share it.

Because she didn’t want to be alone anymore.

She couldn’t bear to be.

“You were hurting, and you were sad,” she continued unrestrainedly, tears pricking the corners of her eyes again. She made no attempt to brush them away this time. “And I was so cruel, Yellow. I wanted you to acknowledge it for my own selfish reasons, and then, at the very same time, I was desperate to push you away. You hurt me, but fundamentally, I hurt you, too, and you can’t just… you can’t take away our history like that. You can’t shoulder all these four years on your own. It doesn’t work like that. Love doesn’t! Marriage doesn’t! We don’t!”

Blue Diamond’s chest heaved painfully at the end of all this, as though she had just run a marathon. She rubbed her sternum again, trying to excise the damage, but there was so much of it there—so many hundreds of days worth—and she was so tired.

Exhausted.

But still, there was more to be said; there were mountains between hers and Yellow Diamond’s chairs.

Insurmountable oceans.

And Yellow was frozen, a monument to her own colossal grief.

Stone.

Leaking stone.

She had fountains for eyes; they dripped and dripped.

“And we hurt Pink,” Blue whispered, closing her eyes against this final, horrible truth as the tears continued to lance down her long face, salting her cracked lips. “Oh, my God, how we hurt that poor child. She wanted so badly to grow up, and we wouldn’t let her. We looked away. And that’s what I think about every time I close my eyes, Yellow. Her last words to me echo perpetually in the dark of my head.”

You’ll never let me grow up, will you?

She couldn’t help herself then; she let out a bitter sob, wrenched to her very core.

Because their daughter was dead and never coming back, and the pain of that simple fact would haunt her until the day she died, the memories of her so many thousands of scattered ghosts.

Eternal.

Omnipresent.

Her own constructed gods to worship and to fear.

“I was grieving,” Yellow confessed hoarsely, and the naked baldness of it forced Blue to open her eyes again to take a look. Her wife was rocking back and forth on the balls of her feet, fingers dug into the thighs of her pajama pants. Without her trademark three piece suit, without her makeup, without her man-killing heels, she seemed so much smaller than usual—less adamantine, more human. “And I hurt you.”

“Yes,” Blue said simply.

It was a mere syllable; it cost everything in her to utter it.

“And you were grieving… and you didn’t mean to… but you… you hurt me, too.”

“But sometimes,” Blue reminded her gently, the words awful on her lilting tongue, “I absolutely did mean to. I wanted to hurt you, Yellow… I wanted you to feel the barest inch of pain that I felt and suffer with me. Us. Together.”

Yellow looked like she didn’t know what to say to that, so she ignored it, striking the heel of one of her hands across her running face, sniffing harshly.

“And we hurt Pink,” she carried on, this unforgivable truth the salt in the exposed wound. Yellow’s voice broke at the end as the pain of it simply burned. “We hurt her so many times over.”

There was only one possible answer to this leveled charge, too.

“Yes.”

Yellow closed her eyes against this final condemnation, wincing harshly, as though skewered through with a sword. Her jaw was red in the place where she’d tried to wipe away the tears that still continued to flow down her angular face.

“So what do we do now?” She asked, and the question was almost childish in her stringent voice. The desperation in her golden eyes pleaded for an answer, a foundation upon which to stand. “Where the hell do we even go from here?”

It was a simple question at the same time that it was a loaded one.

It engendered the possibilities of more pain, dissolution, and grief.

The startling potentiality that neither Blue nor Yellow Diamond would ever recover from the loss of their only child.

Their shared tomb of a bleak and horrible future.

But there was hope there, too.

The startling possibility of it.

The barest potentiality.

Small.

Slight.

Goddamn miraculous even.

But there.

Taught first to Blue Diamond by a boy in a cemetery, so many days upon long, aching days ago.

Thinking clearly for the first time in four years or perhaps not thinking straight at all, the fifty-five year old woman tenderly reached her shaking hand across the gap between their chairs and held her palm upwards as though it had a flower in it, inviting her wife’s fingers to fill in the empty spaces, to imagine a conceivable future where they could one day hold hands and be content.

“I don’t know,” she murmured, her voice also quite childish, the words so very small. “But wherever it is, Yellow, let’s go together.”

To heaven.

To hell.

To the grave.

To their golden years.

Yellow stared at her open hand for the longest fraction of an infinity, and there was exquisite agony in her eyes, painful tenderness, too.

Paradoxes and contradictions.

“Okay,” she finally whispered, taking Blue Diamond’s hand, interlinking their long fingers.

“Okay.”

iv.

Once upon a time, there was a princess, a knight, and a night that seemed to swallow them both entirely whole.

Because White Diamond wasn’t doing well. 

Her live-in nurse had called Yellow just today and told her that some days were worse than others, and worse days were become less exception than the rule; she was often agitated, frustrated, terrified, confused; she thought that Yellow was still at boarding school; she saw shadows of strange men on the alabaster walls; she missed her own mother, who had been dead for some forty-odd years; she wanted to send her dearest Starlight a postcard from Paris.

As they laid in bed together in the darkness, Blue wrapped her arms around her wife’s tense body, pressing soft lips against her pillow-rumpled hair.

“Mother always said that she wanted a grand funeral when her time came,” Yellow said stiffly, each word yanked from behind gritted teeth. “If her casket cost less than a hundred grand, she’d haunt me from the aether for the rest of my life.”

“Why am I not surprised?” Blue sighed, a little sad, a little amused, a little fond. Her mother-in-law had always been quite the character, larger than life, always meticulously dressed in Gucci jumpsuits that were more expensive than most people’s home mortgages. 

“She wants to be buried in the same crypt as my grandparents naturally,” Yellow continued in that same halting voice, “and I told her that she was being ridiculous. Someone would have to knock out a damn wall to fit another casket in there.”

But Blue knew her wife too well, perhaps better than she knew herself sometimes with her obstinate avoidance of all things introspective in nature.

“My colleague’s husband is a contractor,” she said gently, skimming her fingers up and down Yellow’s sleeved arm. “I can get a quote for you on Monday...?”

“Mm,” came a noncommittal grunt, which Blue correctly interpreted as reluctant assent.

The silence laid thickly upon the two women then.

Seconds passed.

Electric minutes.

Blue could almost feel the tension agitating Yellow’s bones.

And then—

“We should talk about our own burial plans one day in the near future,” she said brusquely. “At the very least, we need to have the Zircons codify our basic intentions into a will.”

Blue stared at the back of her wife’s head incredulously, eyes wide, her dark brow contracting somewhere in the middle. With some effort, she extricated her arms from around her, so that she could prop herself up on one elbow more easily.

“Yellow Clytemnestra Diamond,” she whispered, unable to quite keep the emotion from her voice, the rising pitch, “what on Earth do you mean? We’re not even fifty yet.”

Goodness, they were barely forty. 

“Accidents happen all the time,” Yellow reasoned sagely, rolling around to face Blue properly, “and I want to leave Pink with a clear blueprint. Otherwise, you and I might end up in neon pink caskets as Weezer plays over our grave.”

“How serious of you,” Blue quipped, lowering herself down to the pillow again so that they were at eye level. In the barest light that seeped through the curtains, she saw that there were tired lines scoring Yellow’s face, straining shadows. 

“I’m being completely serious,” she protested shortly. “Not about Weezer, perhaps, but the fact that we should have solidified plans.”

Abstractly, Blue knew she was correct—it was only common sense for them to put their affairs in order, even if they were young, and perhaps especially while they were. And yet, she had a feeling that this particular topic of conversation wasn’t strictly about the common sense of it, the practicality, the realism.

It was more so about the haunted look in Yellow’s eyes.

And the stiffness of her body.

And her sick mother.

Assuredly, it was about grief.

“Yellow,” Blue only whispered, reaching across the barest gap between them and placing the palm of her hand on the woman’s warm cheek. Her thumb cradled that imperial jaw, tracing its harsh geometry, loving it softly.

And Yellow Diamond immediately jerked, as though stung by such a gentle, careful touch, but ultimately, she didn’t move away from it.

She leaned into it, in fact.

And closed her dark-stricken eyes.

Sighing.

“Sorry,” she muttered thickly. “I was being morbid... I just... it’s all becoming real to me, I think...”

Blue remained silent in this awful darkness, simply listening, simply holding her wife’s face. 

“The inevitability that one day, my mother isn’t going to call me on the phone to chew my ass out about the company again... she’s just always been so stubborn, so implacable, that to imagine her as anything else is...”

But she trailed off, opening her eyes again. They were strangely filmy, bright but simultaneously dull.

“Well, you know what it is,” she finished awkwardly.

The words sprung immediately to Blue’s clever and elocutionary mind: unbearable, unfathomable, cruel.

She decided quickly, though, against saying any of them aloud; thinking them was punishment enough.

“I know,” she whispered, continuing to study the planes of her wife’s jaw by touch alone. She chose not to say anything when there was sudden dampness on the side of her hand.

“What do I do, Blue? The question was hushed, strangled, barely articulated into the night. “What happens next?”

Blue Diamond didn’t particularly know grief yet, the harrowing nature of it, its iron-sharp teeth.

And so that was the only answer she could give her wife in the end, as intelligent as she was, as intuitive, and as sensitive to the natures of others.

“I don’t know,” she admitted gently, “but I promise you, Yellow Diamond, I’ll be by your side through all of it.”

In sickness and in health.

’Til death did them part.

’Til Weezer apparently one day played over their grave.

“How sentimental of you,” Yellow laughed humorlessly in a failure of an attempt to hide that she was touched.

Blue leaned over then and pressed her lips against Yellow’s cool forehead, fingers still cupping her face. And when the stalwart general of a businesswoman’s entire body shuddered, she was merciful again; she pretended not to notice.

“Yes.”

v.

Tuesday, July 10th, 7:22PM:

Steven: i’m sorry for just getting back to you, Blue. It’s been a rough couple of days.

Blue: I know how that feels.

Steven: it’s just kinda hard to get outta my own head right now.

Blue typed and sent her reply just as the door leading into the penthouse suite abruptly swung open: I know how that feels, too.

When she glanced up from her phone from where she was sitting on the couch, Yellow Diamond was limping through the threshold in such a way that it was painfully obvious that she was trying to hide that she was limping—holding her shoulders ridiculously straight and grimacing as though to subjugate any pain she was feeling in the firm press of her mouth.

Though she was dressed in a button down with black slacks and a suit vest to match, she wasn’t quite coming home from work; rather—as she’d told Poppy to tell Blue earlier that morning—she had been at the hospital all day.

Doing some more tests.

Placing her phone facedown on the nearby end table, Blue narrowed her eyes in what she hoped was sympathy but probably more so resembled fear.

“Yellow?” She asked softly, her voice small and tremulous and terrified of its own aggrandized shadow. She loathed herself; she didn’t know how to be anyone other than herself. “Are you okay?”

“Yes,” came the immediate and stubborn reply as the woman shuffled over to the couch, her face unbending in unsubtle relief when she finally collapsed into a sitting position. Her palm immediately went to her right thigh, which Blue knew had been the one heavily bruised in the accident.

Blue’s brow bent pointedly over her arctic eyes.

Coldly.

“No,” Yellow amended herself, abashed, embarrassed, sniffing haughtily. “It’s only my leg, though. I was on it too much today.”

“I told you you could borrow my cane.”

“And I told you that that was the last thing I wanted to do,” she muttered, flushing, continuing to rub the inflicted area. “Besides, you need it more.”

Because it was always a competition between them—who was suffering the most. And for some odd and likely unhealthy reason, it was one competition that the ambitious CEO didn’t like to win.

Blue sighed heavily at this silent observation, disturbing the heavy braid that was slung across her shoulder, before slowly pulling herself upwards from the couch, drawing her wife’s incredulous, harried gaze.

“Wait! I didn’t mean for you to leave—”

But Blue only shook her head, quelling Yellow’s protests with the gesture, before slowly hobbling over to the kitchen and slowly hobbling back, this time bearing the ice pack that she sometimes took to bed with her and a gray towel to wrap around it. Using the head of her cane cane as leverage, knuckling it tightly, she nudged the white ottoman towards Yellow with her good knee until it was right in front of her.

“Prop your bad leg up,” she commanded quietly, her voice taking on that same authoritative note that she had once used with her pupils. “Elevating your leg will help drain some of the tension from it.”

And like the best of the headmistress’s former pupils, Yellow knew it was best to swiftly comply.

Laboriously, with obvious discomfort, she used her hands to drag her right leg onto the ottoman, wincing a little with each microscopic adjustment of her thigh. Blue, careful to give the limb wide berth, lowered herself down to the ottoman, too, where she encased the ice pack in the towel, neatly tucking the ends in together so that the cloth wouldn’t unloose itself.

Yellow watched all of this with offensively wide eyes, staring at Blue as though she was turning water into wine or doing somersaults in the middle of the living room. Self-conscious, hyperconscious, anxious, painfully aware, she tucked a stray strand of silvery hair behind her ear and tried not to pay attention to her as she gently pressed the ice pack against her leg, meticulous to cover the entirety of the affected area.

“Cold helps,” she only proffered in explanation. “I can instruct one of the maids to change it out for a new one in a few hours or so.”

“Thank you, Blue.” Yellow’s voice was constricted, tender, raw.

Blue didn’t think she deserved such an outpouring of emotion for such a simple task, this tiny, most minuscule of kindnesses; she glanced away, feathers of color dusting her hollowed cheeks.

“It’s nothing,” she returned gently. “You would do the same for me…”

A slight pause.

Loaded.

Unbearable.

She felt the need to extinguish it at once.

“You have done the same for me,” she added with quiet forcefulness, still not quite looking in Yellow’s direction, drawing both of her hands into her lap. They were cold now from handling the ice pack, rigid and stiff. 

“So many times over.”

After all, how many times had Yellow Diamond sat vigil by her bedside in these past four years? Bathed her? Accompanied her to doctor’s appointments? Taken care of her the best way she knew how?

The number was unfathomable to Blue, innumerable even—both from a lack of attention and from the stunning knowledge that indeed, there were probably too many times to count.

There was a shifting noise then—Yellow adjusting herself on the couch, perhaps—and when Blue finally forced herself to glance up, she could see that there was a rumpled look in her wife’s eyes—the same messiness of an unironed collar, the stain of tea spilt on a tiled floor. She had jerked forward as though to reach out and touch Blue, but the position of her extended leg had made it difficult.

“But I could have done so much more, Blue,” she said softly, with quiet pain, the barren and fervent truth of it shining in those liquid gold eyes. “I watched you suffer more than I ever helped you… I’m so sorry.”

And when Blue immediately opened her mouth to protest, to rearticulate that it wasn’t as straightforward as that, that they had both done inconceivable wrongs to each other, that Yellow had done the best that she could, Yellow shook her head ferociously, her aspect taking on that same indefinable sense of authority which had so permeated her reign as the CEO of Diamond Electric.

And like the wisest of Yellow’s colleagues, Blue knew when it was best to simply stand down.

“No! I’ve been thinking about this,” she continued doggedly, “and I’ve come to the conclusion that just because we’ve both hurt each other doesn’t very well cancel out the fact that we did. That’s asinine, Blue—fallacious logic. I hurt you. I pushed you away. I didn’t want to acknowledge your grief for the inglorious reason that if I did, I would have to acknowledge my goddamn own.”

She raised her voice only at the end, flinching when she did, looking away.

The pale light flooding down from the strips in the ceiling cast strange shadows across her beaten face, and Blue Diamond’s heart bruised with the utter surreality of it all.

The confession.

The accountability.

The simple agony in Yellow’s voice, laid bare.

There were no barriers between them now, no walls, no facades, no meticulously constructed pretenses—only words.

Words and words and words.

Yellow Diamond had been there for Blue in so many different ways in four years… but she had hurt Blue so many times in so many different ways, too, and that was apparently something that neither of them were allowed to forget.

How many times had Blue laid in the horrible dark by herself, silent tears streaming down her face weathered? And how many times had Yellow insisted to her physician do up her meds, as though the underlying problem of grief could be treated first and foremost with a pill? How many times had her wife raised her voice at her—so devastatingly harsh, aloof, and cruel?

The number was unfathomable, innumerable.

Blue could not immediately swallow the lump in her throat.

“I… I remember thinking that if I could just keep myself together on the outside,” Yellow half-whispered, “I could be strong enough for both of us. I couldn’t bear being weak.”

And she flexed her fists on top of her powerful thighs, scraped knuckles trembling.

And she somehow found enough courage to look Blue in the eye.

And Blue stared at her right back, her eyes melting with awful tears.

“Grief isn’t weakness, Yellow,” she said ardently, with all the conviction she could muster, with all the atoms in her broken body.

Because she knew grief; she understood it; it was her closest companion, her very best and most horrible friend.

Yellow sniffed and swiped a hand across her face as though it would do anything, as though it would annihilate the over-brightness of her eyes.

“What is it then?” She asked, and from the quiet tone of her voice, Blue thought that she’d already guessed the answer.

But she said it aloud anyway, for both of them to hear and to know and to never forget again.

She reached over and gently took her lover’s hand and whispered, “Love.”

Tuesday, July 10, 9:02PM:

Blue: It’s such a hard feeling to contend with, sweet boy—the feeling of everything, the feeling of nothing, the feeling of drowning in the empty space of your own head.

Blue: I was there.

Blue: Some days, I still am.

Blue: But please know, Steven Universe, that I am here for you.

Blue: So many people are here for you.

Wednesday, July 11, 6:58AM:

Steven: thank you, Blue

vi.

Once upon a time, there was a princess, a knight, and a dead queen to mourn and to bury in a one-hundred thousand dollar casket.

On the day that White Diamond died, Blue washed her wife’s hair when they showered together that night, rubbing her fingers gingerly across her scalp as the steaming water broke across the crowns of both of their heads.

Yellow braced her shaking hands against the marbled walls and tried not to make so much as a sound.

Her shoulder blades were knife-sharp with the excruciating tension of holding herself together.

(Of not falling apart.)

Blue kissed the skin right between the middle of those tremulous mountains and scrubbed those places tenderly, too.

And when they dressed in their pajamas and went to bed together later on, loosely intertwining hands and painfully letting go, Pink Diamond came in, wearing one of Yellow’s old t-shirts as a gown, and wrapped her arms around Blue’s neck first, pressing a gentle kiss against her head. Her dark eyes were red from where she had been crying, for she had loved her Gran dearly, even if the eighty-five year old woman had taken habitual offense to the teenager’s choices of music. 

“Goodnight, Mom.”

Blue closed her eyes in her daughter’s warm embrace and inhaled the scent of her floral shampoo.

“Goodnight, Pink.”

“I love you so much.”

“I love you, too.

She used to say it so easily then, and she said it so often, too.

It was commonplace.

It was habit.

(What had ever happened in the intervening years? Blue Diamond, to her eternal condemnation, could not know.)

And then the sixteen-year old dutifully shuffled over to the other side of the bed, where Yellow was sitting on the edge, staring blankly into space, the lines beneath her eyes stark, as though dictated in black ink. And Pink wrapped her arms around her other mother, too, burying her nose against that tall column of a neck.

Tears flowing down her freckled face, she whispered, loud enough for Blue to hear, “I’m so sorry, Momma.”

Yellow Diamond didn’t seem capable of moving a muscle at that very moment, more statue than human, obelisk-like, calcified.

But Blue watched as their beautiful daughter squeezed all the tighter, uncaring that she was meeting stone, her slender shoulders wrenching with a sob.

“I’m going to miss her, too.”

Yellow hadn’t cried since she had first gotten the call earlier that morning, and she didn’t start then either; Blue knew her too well; she was desperately afraid to be vulnerable for anyone to see. 

And yet, with slow rigidity, with a tenderness that almost did not befit her, labored though it was, the businesswoman reached upwards and encircled her arms around her daughter, drawing the sixteen-year old girl into her lap as though she was that same child who had perpetually come into her mothers’ room after a bad nightmare.

“Shh,” she croaked, and there was pain in her fractured voice.

Pronounced agony.

Love.

Blue’s heart stuttered at the sight and at the sound.

“Shh, Pink,” she repeated, cradling her child, tangling her fingers in that wild, pink hair. “I’m here.”

vii.

Thursday, July 12, 7:12PM:

Steven: hey Blue?

Blue: Yes, Steven?

Steven: You can come visit me tomorrow if you want.

Steven: Would morning be okay? 9:00 maybe? I think they have some more tests to do on me in the afternoon

Blue: I’ll be there.

The summer evening was flush with soft colors—pink and indigo and aegean blue, all bleeding into each other, all melting, until the sky was falling with hazy radiance, white stars dotting the sky like angels in the night. Blue was on the balcony when Yellow arrived home, listening to a familiar piano arrangement that was playing on the classical radio station; the portable stereo was sitting on the table between the chairs.

“You’ve always liked this one,” Yellow said fondly, and when Blue turned around, she saw that her wife was leaning against the sliding glass doorway, dressed as impeccably as usual in a black button down and well-tailored khakis. The collar of her shirt was popped up around her sinewy neck, and there was a manila folder tucked neatly beneath her unhurt arm. She’d spent yet another day at the hospital, doing heavens only knew what. 

At least she wasn’t coming home with any new injuries, though. 

“Debussy?”

“Chopin,” Blue smiled faintly, and the gesture stretched a little stiffly across her unpracticed lips. “Nocturne in E Flat Major… I used to play it at my parents’ estate for our guests…”

“You used to get so frustrated when you pressed the wrong key,” Yellow teased as she pushed herself off of the door and ambled over. She didn’t quite sit down in her chair, but rather placed the manila folder down in front of the stereo before straightening up again, her silhouette tall in the burgeoning night. “Your brow would furrow just in the middle before you’d start all over again, intent on getting it right this time…”

Blue Diamond’s heart gently pulsed in her throat as she stared upwards at this figure she knew so well—so stern and so simultaneously magnanimous, so magnificent and so undeniably… broken, the lines beneath her eyes fixed scars, her face an angular canvas for cuts and oddly healing bruises.

“I’ve always been a perfectionist, you know.”

“Yes, I know.”

Yellow drew a purposeful step closer, and Blue instinctively leaned back, her stomach clenching against wild and irrational and warranted fright.

“Yellow…”

Because then, with a little awkwardness in her eyes, with a hell of a lot of fear, Yellow Diamond slowly proffered her hand, the metal band of her watch catching in the golden light that illumined the balcony.

There was no mistaking the gesture.

It was an invitation.

“The song’s almost over,” Blue whispered, her throat savanna-dry.

“So?” Yellow meant it to be casual, Blue inferred, but the sound came out too agitated. Color leaked from the sky and seemed to scribble the hollows of her cheeks in. “That’s never stopped us before.”

She was embarrassed.

It was adorable.

And strange.

And oddly sad.

And so, Blue Diamond swallowed her fears.

She took her wife’s hand in the star-strewn darkness.

They could be embarrassed and strange and oddly sad together.

Relief shattering her face, Yellow leaned forward then and wrapped her arms around Blue to help her stand, going slowly, with all consummate gentleness. Their bodies were so close that they could hear the hummingbird beating of each other’s hearts—loud, quick, and desperately afraid.

Blue placed her chin on Yellow’s shoulder and allowed herself to be held by her wife for the first time in four years.

The thought and the sensation nearly made her want to cry.

Yellow Diamond led them slowly and carefully as the arrangement lolled through its sweeping notes. With Blue’s bad hip and Yellow’s sore leg, they couldn’t do much more than turn around in careful circles.

Once upon a time, they would have both sworn that they could out-waltz a king.

“I had an interesting day today,” Yellow said suddenly, as though this was explanation enough for why she was dancing with her wife. Her breath was warm against the tip of Blue’s right ear.

“Oh?”

“Indeed,” she nodded, her chin briefly pressing against Blue’s shoulder, “but I’ll have to tell you about it later, I’m afraid.”

“You’re such a tease,” Blue murmured, but the accusation didn’t come out quite as light as she wanted it to. Her voice shook, and her hands trembled where they were resting on the woman’s back.

Tears danced in her sea-dark eyes.

“Something of the sort, yes.”

The song continued on, but it was nearing its beautiful end—a series of high-lilting lifts and then a final, graceful fall.

Blue greeted every note like it was an old friend, long lost at sea, now come home.

“I’m going to see Steven tomorrow,” she whispered as they continued to draw their slow circle upon the floor. “Early. He asked me to come visit.”

A slight pause.

The piano tinkled a spray of final notes.

And then, there was silence.

“I don’t think his head is in a good place.”

The silence made the proclamation all the more wretched.

Yellow stopped them in their place but didn’t quite let go of Blue, her fingers curling into the thin fabric of her dress.

“I don’t find that hard to believe,” she murmured. “We wouldn’t be in a good place either if…”

But rightfully so, she let the end of that particular hypothetical trail off into the night, for Yellow and Blue Diamond both weren’t in a good place either yet. They were dancing, and they were tentatively smiling, and they were learning how to love each other all over again.

But that was only the beginning.

The start of another piano arrangement began to rise softly from the stereo.

“Bach,” Blue said automatically to smooth the rough moment over. “One of the Goldberg Variations, I believe.”

And so they began their gentle revolutions again, swaying, barely moving their feet to the solemn melody. The wind ran its fingers across them, stirring Blue’s heavy braid, ruffling the collar of Yellow’s shirt.

“Do you know what you're going to say to him?”

It was a remarkably intrusive question, or perhaps it very well wasn’t. Perhaps Blue was judging off the standard that four years of standoffishness from her wife had taught her so emphatically. The questions she most associated with Yellow now largely had to do with whether or not she’d taken all her pills.

She shivered a little, even though the air was mild.

“No,” she replied, closing her sunken eyes. “I haven’t the faintest idea…”

She hadn’t been able to rouse herself out of four years of grief; despite whatever Pearl seemed to believe, she wasn’t entirely sure that she possessed the words that would be enough to help Steven Universe. For even he hadn’t given her words that fateful day in the cemetery.

He’d given her kindness.

He’d given her a flower.

“You’ll figure it out,” Yellow said with an assuredness that made Blue’s heart flutter again. It was a wonder that she could even breathe.

“You say that with such confidence on my behalf.”

And as Bach’s mournful contemplation scored that profound night, Yellow Diamond drew back, so that Blue could see her face, every sharply drawn facet of it, illuminated in that softly scattered lamplight—fifty-six years of life, pressed into the layers of her skin, lines and shadows and lines. These were the lines that had formed beneath her eyes when their daughter first died. And there was the cut that raced across the bridge of her nose from the car accident. And here were the stitches that currently served as a memento of that scary night, too. And there were the slight parentheses formed around her mouth whenever she frowned, relics of time and age and grief.

Her golden eyes were bright with emotion and ancient with the weight of so many passed years.

“Because I know you,” she returned simply, “and I love you.”

They were merely three words, but Blue’s heart nearly failed to hear them.

Spoken to her.

Meant for her.

By the person whom she loved.

Oh, dear God, when was the last time anyone had ever told her that they loved her?

She could not say; she strained to remember.

“I love you, too,” she whispered it back, even though it was only four words, and they were all so very semantically simple. 

But the expression on Yellow Diamond’s face was anything but as she, too, registered what it was to be loved by another, her mouth agape, pleasure and pain and ecstasy and terror warring across her face in dizzying swirls.

Oh, dear God, when was the last time she had told Yellow that she loved her?

She could not say; she strained to remember.

And there was hesitancy then.

And vast, godawful fear.

And there was longing then.

And tender, unquestioning desire.

And they both leaned forward then…

And tilted their heads in just the right way…

And they…

viii.

Once upon a time, there was a princess, a knight, and a master bedroom that smelled like a fresh coat of paint. 

It was empty as of yet, hollow and silver-walled and woefully unadorned—the movers had just placed the bed and mattress down. They’d be coming back later on that day with the nightstands, armoires, and dressers—all custom-made for the Diamonds’ penthouse suite. 

For their first home.

“Wait,” Yellow said, and there was mischief in her twenty-eight year old voice that took Blue by pleasant and tender surprise. “Let’s finalize this bridal style.”

“Yellow,” she laughed, her face coloring pink, “don’t be ridiculous.”

But the heiress only shook her head, grinning with all the self-assuredness of her love and general air of arrogance, as she bent down and scooped her wife into her well-toned arms. Instinctively, Blue wrapped her own arms around that corded neck to help support her weight and found herself so close to Yellow’s face that she could not help but be enchanted.

By her.

Because of her.

This golden-eyed knight.

“I’m not being ridiculous,” Yellow scoffed, pressing a quick kiss against her head. “I’m being romantic. Haven’t you heard of the concept before?”

“Abstractly,” she teased. “In novels and fairytales and the like.”

“You read too many books.” “And you read too little.”

“Nerd.”

“Neolith.”

And they grinned at each other with unbearable affection as Yellow Diamond walked them over the threshold of the room, careful to maneuver her body in such a way that Blue’s feet didn’t hit the doorframe. 

When they were on the other side, though, she gently placed her down, so that they were directly in front of the bed that would soon be their own. Blue would assume the right side and Yellow the left, and on some nights, they would meet directly in the middle.

“Soon,” Blue murmured, softly interlinking her fingers with Yellow’s. The bands of their wedding rings clinked delicately at the touch.

“No more bumming out in my mother’s mansion,” Yellow smiled, playing a little with Blue’s hand, swinging it.

“And hearing her daily tirades about being late to breakfast…”

“Oh, yes,” came that harsh, lovely laugh that Blue so loved. “I certainly won’t miss those.”

And they turned to face each other then, light playing in their youthful eyes. 

And Yellow reached up and tentatively brushed back a strand of loose hair behind Blue’s ear.

And Blue leaned into the touch because she could not imagine ever doing anything else in this world.

And their futures stretched before them, ribbon-like, graceful, spiraling into each other’s lifelines with an inextricability that they simultaneously believed in and found hard to fathom. They were each other’s beginnings and their ends. They were partners, soulmates, wives. They dreamed, in that very moment, tiny though it was, of all the things that they would do together over the course of an interconnected lifetime. They would chase their ambitions with wild abandon and climb to the very height of them side by side. They would take long walks in the park near their high rise. They would go see musicals on the date nights that Blue chose and drink the most expensive bottles of champagne over steak and lobster on the ones that Yellow preferred. They would fall into the same bed every night, the very bed in front of them now. They would fall asleep in each other’s arms—warm, loved, secure. Maybe they would get a cat at some point, even though Yellow swore up and down that she was allergic to them. And maybe they would travel the world, seeing all the sights and wonders and ultimately concluding that somehow, even the Eiffel Tower paled in comparison to the view that they had of each other.

And maybe, one day, they would even adopt a child to love, to raise, and to cherish.

For Blue had always wanted a little girl.

The possibilities were endless.

And so, they leaned forward then…

There was nothing else left to do.

And they tilted their heads in just the right way…

And they…

ix.

Thursday, July 12, 7:45PM:

Steven: I’m scared, Blue.

They danced in the incomplete darkness for as long as they could both bear it, but eventually, their bodies caught up to them—Blue’s aching hip and Yellow’s sore leg and the overwhelming awkwardness of it all that arrested their limbs, too, as they slowly remembered what it was to touch each other.

They hadn’t touched each other in so many years.

Holding on to the head of her cane for support, Blue leaned down and turned off the stereo, while Yellow collected that curious manila envelope from the table and tucked it beneath her arm again.

When they both straightened up again, their noses were inches away from each other.

Blue could see every microfilament in her wife’s expression, softly realized by the amber light above. She was a beautiful creature, down to every last line that had struck itself across her face. Those dark lashes and golden eyes. The way her teeth gently pressed into her lower lip in tender and shy hesitancy.

With this sort of notable self-consciousness, though, she stepped backwards and away, giving them both space to breathe.

Blue’s heart felt as though it was going to beat right out of her chest.

“You can shower first,” Yellow said, rubbing the back of her neck. “I have some paperwork to attend to anyway.”

Oh.

She’d forgotten, for however long that they had been on the balcony together, that it was commonplace for them to part at night.

That they weren’t together.

How awful and how unbearable.

How completely and utterly cruel.

Yellow’s gaze flicked down to the manila envelope, but Blue’s remained centered on her wife’s face as she struggled to articulate the words she desperately wanted to say and ardently dreaded to, her lips partially cracked open, her entire body electric with nerves.

“Blue?” Concern bent Yellow’s brow. She shifted her weight uncomfortably from foot to foot.” Are you—”

“Come with me, Yellow.”

Oh, the awful and beautiful and terrible words—how they fell so clumsily and stupidly off her laden tongue.

“What?” The businesswoman’s eyes flew wide open, stretching the lines beneath them into almost comedic proportions.

Blue tried again, slowly extending her hand, palm up, her oversized sleeve dangling from her wrist.

Her skeletal fingers were trembling, but there was no mistaking the gesture.

It was an invitation.

“Come to bed with me, Yellow,” she whispered as tears reflexively blurred her eyes. It was no small wonder that she still had the capacity to cry after so many days and nights of weeping herself undone.

“Please.”

What complicated emotions were going through Yellow Diamond’s mind then, Blue could not entirely say. Sundry emotions seized across her eyes; her mouth wrenched itself open; and for what felt like an eternity, an infinity wrapped into excruciating seconds, she was simply and utterly speechless, staring at that outstretched hand as though she was seeing God for the first time.

How many nights had this woman dreamed of this moment? Blue wondered to herself, pain and love and fear commingling in the column of her throat.

And how many nights have I half-wanted it?

Half-dreaded it?

Craved it.

Pushed it away.

She did not have time to answer these profound questions, though, for with astonishing tenderness, with paramount and equivalent fear, Yellow took her hand, palms against palms, the striations of their fingers aligning themselves perfectly.

“Are you sure?” She asked quietly.

She was thorough as ever; she was giving Blue a readymade out.

Blue Diamond had never been more unsure about anything in her life.

“Yes,” she whispered anyway.

And so they…

Thursday, July 12, 8:15PM:

Blue: It’s okay to be scared, Steven.

x.

Once upon a time, there was a princess, a knight, and a king-sized bed that had always been meant for two.

Theirs was a sad tale.

A tragedy.

Their daughter died, and that was something that neither of them would ever entirely recover from.

But, and all the same, they could love each other nonetheless.

They could be there for each other for the rest of their dwindling days.

Holding hands.

Learning the shapes of each other’s collected and accumulated scars.

Braving the night together, one second, one minute, one fraction of a vast and incomprehensible infinity at a time.

In that dark bedroom, silent tears streamed down Blue Diamond’s face as her wife tentatively held her, her face against her shoulder, her arms encircling the softness of her gowned belly. She rested her slender hands on top of those of tall, leathery ones and didn’t know whether to be devastated that this was the first time they had shared a bed together in four years or so utterly relieved.

Yellow kissed her head.

And the back of her neck.

And her cheek.

And kept asking if she was okay? Was her hip doing fine? Did she need more space?

And Blue replied, every time, in the strongest voice she could muster, “No.”

No, she was not okay.

No, her hip was not fine.

No, she didn’t need more space.

It was all paradoxes and contradictions: grief and love and so many wasted years. The potential for a better future. The awful fear that things could eventually become worse. Blue’s softness and Yellow’s sternness. Blue’s selfishness and Yellow’s tender care.

But they went to bed together, and that was what mattered.

And when Blue Diamond finally fell asleep, for the first time in a very long time, she did not nightmare.

She did not dream.

xi.

Friday, July 13, 7:22AM:

Steven: you think so?

Blue: I know so.

Blue: Being scared is how we know that we are alive.

By the time Blue had woken up and gotten dressed and made it to the kitchen the next morning, Yellow was already gone to work according to Livia, who was fixing Blue’s choice of tea. The slightly bitter aroma sharpened the air.

“She left something for you, though, Mrs. Diamond.” The slight maid used a spoon to point towards the counter. “She asked me to tell you…”

“Thank you, Livia,” she returned gently as she proceeded to the directed area, one doleful cane clink at a time.

Laying on top of the cool marble was the manila envelope Yellow had brought out onto the balcony last night. It was clasp-side down, and the businesswoman’s squared, utilitarian penmanship had dictated a short note to Blue in black ink.

Before she had the chance to read it, though, Livia was sliding the steaming cup of earl gray across the counter, the dark liquid gently sloshing against the rim.

“Do you need anything else, ma’am?”

Blue glanced up and studied the maid’s face, which was tentative with kindness and shy with awe. It suddenly struck her then, with all the precision of a lanced sword, how hard these past four years must have been for her, too.

“No,” she murmured softly. “Thank you, Livia… I think I’m…”

But then, she remembered.

Yes, there was in fact something she required before she went to the hospital today.

“My checkbook if you would, please, Livia… I haven’t the slightest clue where I’ve last placed it.”

If Livia seemed surprised by this odd request, she didn’t betray it in her features, simply nodding with all the delicacy that her natural constitution seemed to entail.

“Yes, Mrs. Diamond.”

“Thank you again.”

And the girl fluttered off, wisp-like in her movements, towards the dark corridor, leaving Blue alone with her thoughts and her tea and the manila envelope beneath her. She looked down again, running her fingers across that familiar scrawl.

Test results. The doctors rushed to get them done. I love you. - Yellow

Blue’s harrowed heart lurched against her ribcage as she comprehended these words, as they seemingly fell to the pit of her stomach.

Sickening her.

Immediately goring her.

She flipped the envelope over and unclasped it with almost indecent haste.

There were about twenty papers in all, neatly stacked; the first sheet was the same shade of light pink that had once been their daughter’s favorite color, and the reminder nearly ruined her where she stood.

But eventually, with trembling fingers, she negotiated the papers out of their sheath, her dark eyes scanning the neatly printed words.

And when she comprehended them, when realization swept down across her body with glorious, sweeping force, Blue Diamond did something she had not an occasion to do for years upon years now.

Strangely enough, though, in these past few weeks alone, it was becoming something of a commonality.

Her lips tilted upward in the barest, most gentle of curves.

And she...

[lena-in-a-red-dress]

Metallo!Lena AU Pt 27

"Drop the syringe, Michaels!"

Kara hears the bark of Alex's order in the middle of a pitch meeting at CatCo. In the time it takes her to fumble out of the room and speed to the DEO, she subsequently hears the hiss of Alex's holster and the retort of a gunshot. She arrives in Lena's lab in time to catch the syringe before it hits the floor. Michaels' body receive no such consideration: it drops to the tile in a heap, lifeless.

Kara stares at Alex, eyes wide and heart pounding. Lena sleeps on, undisturbed by the gunshot. When Kara turns her gaze to the syringe in her hand, she's shocked to see that while the plunger is pulled back, there's nothing in it.

"It's empty," she tells Alex, horror creeping into her voice. Has Alex killed a man for some sort of bluff?

"If he'd pushed that air into Lena's IV, she'd be dead in a matter of minutes," Alex tells her, drawing back to her full height. "Would have looked like a heart attack."

Kara blinks. It would take someone sinister to kill an unconscious woman, and more so to not leave a trace.

"I guess we found our mole," Alex continues. She glares down at Michaels. "I don't think he had time to do anything, but I want to check her just in case..."

Alex moves towards Lena, only to stop as she passes Kara, arrested by a loose, but iron grip on her arm.

"Where were the guards?" Kara asks softly. Since the moment Lena has been stabilized, Alex had two guards posted at the door to Lena's lab to ensure no one without authorization could enter.

Michaels is-- was-- an analyst. He had no business gaining access to Lena. He shouldn't have made it this far.

A telling silence answers her.

"You used her as bait."

Kara's hand slips away.

"I need to check on Lena."

Alex widens the distance between them, and neither of them share another word.

---

Lena dreams of Kara.

At least, she thinks she's dreaming. She claws her way to the surface of a black, fathomless lake, and for a few moments she sees a glimpse of Kara's face. An apparition perhaps, a manifestation of her one wish to see her friend again. But in the off chance it isnt a dream, she issues a final plea.

"Please, kill me."

She knows what Lex wanted to turn her into: he wanted to warp her body into a weapon for him to wield. The sight of Kara's desperate features only confirms that he must have succeeded. So she issues her plea just as an unseen hand reaches from the depths and tugs her back underwater.

Darkness presses in around her, filling her lungs and her senses with chaos and rage not her own. But just before it can fill her completely, a force impacts her chest hard enough to drive the breath from her body. Her world blinks out of existence, and in the void Lena floats.

How long she hangs there, suspended in nothingness, Lena doesnt know. When next she has eyes to open, she does so to find herself staring up at the ceiling of the Cadmus warehouse. She'll know that ceiling until the day she dies: with its spots of damp and mold, plaster sealing the long crack spanning nearly half its width. She'd stared at that sealed crack for days, hunting for any hint the crack would grow to one day collapse and kill her for good.

Only this time, when Lena takes her gaze from the ceiling, she sees she is not bound to the operating table like she was for all those months. Her limbs are free, but she cannot move them. To her horror, her chest is cut open as if for an autopsy: her mother gazes down at her, with something like pity in her eyes.

"You could have been the Luthor who changed the world," Lillian says.

Then her attention turns to the Y-incision flaps. With a long handled bolt cutter, she begins to snap Lena's ribs one by one, until she is able to pry her fingers between Lena's ribcage and sternum and forcing it open with a sickening crunch.

Lena can't move as her mother starts rooting around her chest cavity. She can't breathe. She can't scream. All she can do is lie there, mired in horror, as tears stream down her cheeks.

I am dead, she realizes. There's no room in her for relief, not when this is to be her eternity. Just when she thinks she cant take any more, Lena disconnects from her body. She floats, looking down on herself from above, watching the horror unfold.

I never escaped, did I, she thinks to herself. I was always here.

"I'm so sorry, Lena."

A voice cuts through the scene, startling Lena as though from a dream.

"I'm sorry, I wasn't able to sit with you sooner, but Alex was... well, she was trying to protect me. But she's you're doing fine now."

Kara.

Relief floods through Lena, filling her lungs with air.

"We've done what we can, Lena," Kara's voice continues. "The rest is up to you."

If Lena didn't imagine her time away from Cadmus, if she hadn't imagined Kara, then... perhaps she wasn't dead after all. And if she isn't dead.... then she can still fight.

Below on the operating table, her fingers twitch.

---

In the days that follow, Alex doesn't try to explain herself. She doesn't need to: Kara understands the reasons behind her actions, but she doesn't agree with them. Not when it's Lena's safety in the balance. And so they enter into an uneasy truce: Kara allows Alex to care for Lena, but doesn't let Lena out of her sight.

Not until an alien attack calls her out on Supergirl business. It takes hours, and by the finish of it, she's exhausted, and all she wants to do now is go home, take a shower, and curl up with her favorite television show.

Except home isn't home anymore. Devoid of Lena, it's just an empty apartment, hollow and lifeless.

Hovering above the cityscape, Kara allows herself a moment to wallow, closing her eyes against the burn of tears.

"Supergirl, you're needed at the DEO," Alex says over comms, bringing Kara back to reality.

"On my way," she clips back, just shy of a growl.

She lands on her platform at the DEO moments later, intent on a a quick rinse in the locker room before making her way to Lena's lab. But there's an unusual whisper in the building that Kara picks up on immediately, and eyes flicker towards her in concern before skittering away. 

Alarm floods Kara immediately, and she speeds to the lab-- only to find the scene has changed.

Finding Alex there is common enough, though less so in the days since the start of their enduring silence. But this time, Lena isn't lying prone on the hospital bed. She's upright, sitting with her legs over one side of the bed, speaking with Alex in low tones.

The door hisses open to admit Kara, prompting them both to turn and look at her. Alex melts away, but Kara doesn't notice. All she can see is the acuity of Lena's gaze, the familiar spark that soon gives way to a smile.

"Hey," Lena greets.

Kara blurs into a hug, wrapping her arms around Lena and hugging her fiercely. Lena softens into her, folding herself into the nooks and crannies of Kara's embrace as she tucks her face against Kara's neck.

They stay like that, for what seems like hours.

"Thank you," Lena whispers, so softly only Kara could hear. "Thank you for breaking your promise."

Kara only smiles. "Thanks to you, I didn't have to. We only had to run interference long enough for you to fight back on your own."

Lena presses her face deeper into the crook of Kara's neck, her breath warm and fluttering against Kara's skin. It was a small comfort, but Kara as much as she received: something inside her chest eases, a missing piece locking back into place.

Their fight isn't over yet: Lex and Lillian are still out there, Lena's reputation lies in ruins. But right here, right now, they have each other, and that's enough.

previous / fin

[skinks]

ive been thinking a lot about the dinner scene lately like... they are both so unbelievably horny. like richie really said *blowjob shot* *immediately makes direct eye contact with eddie to roast him about being married to a woman* hes just like i will make fun of YOU for something that is causing ME pain and pretend its funny :) to cope :) also can i suck ur dick. and eddie is just like. SO feral theyre both like vibrating out of their chairs with tension its unreal

Richie really does that blowjob shot and then pointedly, BITTERLY casts aspersions over Eddie’s marriage like he’s not actually gay himself because either Eddie married a woman and he’s just as unattainable as ever, or Eddie married a man which means Richie might have once had a shot, once upon a time, if he was anyone other than Richie Tozier.

How do you make yourself feel better about that!! You get drunk and you get horny for one of your other hot friends right in front of Eddie’s face, but wait what the fuck, Eddie’s agreeing that Ben is hot? He’s checking Ben out?! He’s checking Ben out with the same expression he was using to stare at the side of Richie’s face so hard Richie felt he was gonna crack under the pressure just like Eddie’s death-gripped wine glass. Does Eddie clench his own dick that hard? Does Eddie jerk off like that, like his dick is offending him? Did Eddie ever jerk off back then, maybe at the same time as Richie, in different houses? Does your wife jerk you off, Eds, does she suck you off could she suck you off like I can suck off this shot glass watch me just watch me just fucking watch me I always want you to watch me Eddie listen watch pay attention is he looking

And Eddie!! Holy shit, by unspoken agreement they kept Stan’s empty place between them because he was always the umpire to their insane verbal volleys, always the sharp-eyed heron standing still and watchful as the two of them darted around each other like eager little piranhas and that hasn’t changed, Stan or no. The gulf between their seats is somehow 27 years wide and the same two feet of mandated cafeteria separation, but jokes on everybody else (as usual) because it only makes them louder.

Eddie can’t stop fucking staring and he’s sure everybody knows it, everybody always knew it and it’s humiliating but he can’t stop. Thirty years of carefully cultivated impulse control (impulse subjugation) down the fucking storm drain because suddenly he can see exactly how a round and froggy little face can hew and sharpen into something square and bristly that Eddie wants to feel crunch under his teeth like the cashews that are absolutely in his meal even though he specifically said he could die but he’s gonna die anyway.

He’s gonna die. Eddie will die. He can’t remember the last time his dick throbbed in public like this and he is going to die. If not from the grave-dug yawning trapdoor in his memory he’s sure he’s close to crashing through forever like a rotten floorboard the longer he stays in this town, then from the fucking breadth, the fucking straining violence of Richie’s shirt buttons stretched like a medieval torture rack across his chest (his rack his tits his fucking lung-holder shit what if he still smokes — is he hairy? Eddie can’t breathe, is his body as hairy as his forearms revealed when) when Richie shrugs off his leather jacket.

Sometime between the blowjob shot that Eddie felt like a phantom limb (phantom rim, Jesus) on his cock and Eddie hissing at Richie like an angry goose for pretending not to understand the plot of Inception, he shuffles one seat over. He’s sure Stan won’t mind. If Stan minded he should have bothered to show up, Eddie thinks vindictively, and it is this old and vicious and ragged braggadocio that grips the back of his hot neck and shakes him in its steel jaws, helpless prey to his own repressed instincts. It is all instinct that makes him move from wine to beer to shots to Richie, closer, sweating, grasping like some hungry thing blind and delirious in its death throes. Let’s take our shirts off and kiss he hears it slime and thinks, not it, that’s me, that’s Eddie Kaspbrak who wants to snatch at Richie Tozier’s big sweating hand with the dark flow of hair on his strong wrists, snatch it off the table and shove it down between Eddie’s legs and up infuckingside himself—

Richie’s face contorts in a grin, his tongue pushing down slick at his lower lip and followed by his crooked front teeth. They don’t look yellow with nicotine. Eddie thinks he might have wanted to kiss Richie regardless, and feels sick.

Let’s dance, Richie grins, and this grown man is the same boy that Eddie could never stop thinking about. The blue veins in their bare wrists flex against each other, and Eddie thinks, you were my first wet dream.

Richie’s grin curves the apple of his cheek up against the lower frame of his glasses, and Bill is shouting about bets. Richie doesn’t join in, his eyes only duck to Eddie’s open polo collar and back up, and Eddie thinks, I wanted you so much that I wanted to be you when you only ever wanted to be someone else, and what does that say about me?

Richie has been devastatingly, insultingly funny all night and Eddie watched him tip the viscous white of the shot down his open swallowing throat and had suddenly wanted to shove his tongue down after it with an intensity he literally has not felt since he was sixteen years old, and he thinks, we watched each other grow up. You said you’d get me away from her. You held me when I cried and I held you and you said you wanted to be my friend forever, and Eddie has held this hand before with this same love, but never before with the ruthless wet ache of arousal in his gut at the sight of Richie’s sturdy forearm muscles bunching solid under his skin, the thought slamming his brain open like a torpedo again, I want his fucking body fucking inside mine.

So abrupt and loud. Pneumatic, unstoppable. Eddie nearly chokes on the want of it, and the shock weakens him for the half-second long enough for Richie to wrench his arm over, easily. The others cheer. Eddie laughs, because the trick with Richie was never to act like there had been a competition for him to win in the first place, or he became insufferable. We weren’t competing, Eddie would always scream, and that was because he never wanted to lose to Richie, and that was because he never wanted to lose Richie. Don’t go where I can’t follow was the quote right? Luminous boy, cartoon boy, Hollywood boy. Untouchable. Richie squeezes Eddie’s beaten knuckles once between his own, and Eddie laughs, and Richie lets go to ruffle Eddie’s hair and Eddie wants to cry.

They order more shots.

[zodiyack]

Teenage Dream (III)

Pairing: Thomas Shelby x Female!Reader

Warnings: Swearing, suggestive/adult themes, ittie bit o’ fluff, angst

Words: 1,215

(Series) Summary: A woman, in his life prior to the war, has suddenly reentered Tommy’s life, leaving him just as longing as she did when he were just a teen. A romance blossomed and wilted long ago, but the garden is being watered again. Thomas is falling for her, again.

Theme Song For The Series: Teenage Dream (cover?) by T. Rex

Taglist: @captivatedbycillianmurphy, @stydia-4-ever, @matth1w, @fandom-puff, @simonsbluee, @redspaceace-writes, @stuckysslag, @marquelapage, @peakyxtommy, @sebastianstanslefteyebrow, @psychkunox, @jenepleurepasbaby, @darling-i-read-it, @i-love-superhero​

Masterlist | Peaky Blinders | Cillian Murphy Masterlist

Part I. Part II.  Part III. Part IV. (Coming Soon)

They hadn’t spoken since the night their lips touched for the first time in a long time. The contact between her soft lips and his own stirred old feelings. Tommy’s hand lifted to his lips often, right where hers were, and he could’ve sworn that he still felt them ghosting against his.

The fire she’d ignited in him, crackling as it’s lively flames danced, was spreading, from his heart, to his dick, before every part of him was alight. Every single fucking part of his being was burning for her. Yearning for her. Craving her.

Like a teen boy, he thought of her whilst making himself come undone. He relished in every memory he had of her as his hand worked himself. Her name was mumbled- even shouted at times- more than once in his bedroom. Tommy was this far gone, but he knew, deep down- he knew, he would only go father in a matter of time.

At the Garrison? He’d seriously expected her to stray as far as she could from the place, especially after she’d learned that he was constantly there, but he’d guessed wrongly, as she was right there in front of his eyes. She was more drunk than he’d ever seen her in public. The two used to get drunk together, so the state wasn’t new, but she always controlled her alcohol when she was in the sights of others who weren’t Tommy.

“Fuck!” She slurred, leaning against the counter. “Get me s’more, would you?” A giggle left her mouth despite there being nothing to laugh about.

He sighed. While he should go to the private room and join his brothers, he couldn’t just leave her to make a fool of herself. Walking over to her, the calm veneer cloaking his worry, he took the drink from her hands.

“Hey! Who the fuck do you think you- ...Tommy?” It seemed as though she only called him that when they were together and, just now discovered, when she’s drunk. “Well well well. Look who finally decided to stop fucking hiding from me.” She hiccupped but payed no mind to it.

“I’m not hiding from you, Y/n.”

“I can see that. I’m talking about every other day. You know, the ones where you’re pretending I don’t exist?” She raised a brow and shifted on her feet.

“I’m not pretending you don’t exist either.”

“Yes you a-”

“You’re drunk, Y/n. Let me take you home.”

She paused before furrowing her eyebrows and frowning. “I’m not hic fucking drunk. I’m perfectly fine, and I don’t need you to hic take me home.” Conflicting her words, hiccups and broken slurs earned a roll of Tommy’s eyes.

“I’m taking you home.” He went to grab her arm before she yanked it away violently, swatting her glass off the counter. Her shoulders grew heavy with anger.

“You’re taking me home? After you decided to fucking leave me there, puzzled out of my fucking marbles!? After you left me there with absolutely no fucking context to the words that you dumped onto me?! After you fucking ki-” His hand flew over her mouth, people in the pub starring.

“We can talk outside.”

Y/n shoved him harshly, crying out in pain, her wound still not yet healed completely. Nevertheless, she pushed through the agony and continued to swing her fists at Tommy. He caught her wrists and gave her the sternest look he could muster. “We’re talking outside.” Tommy drawled with a bitter taste to his tone. He was only trying to help her. Sober her would’ve thanked him.

He didn’t know how, but he convinced her to let him take her to his place. On the car ride there, he pointed out that her hand had been cut from the shards of her broken glass. She didn’t reply, instead staring at her new wound until they’d arrived. Now, sitting on his bed, he patched her up the best he could.

“How does that feel?”

“Stings like a bitch but I’ll be fine.”

He chuckled softly. “I don’t doubt that.”

Her posture relaxed. She felt somewhat comfortable with Thomas, despite picking a fight with him less than an hour ago. The feeling brought her to contemplate and realize her actions. Guilt swam around her gut.  “I’m sorry.”

“About what?”

“Causing that scene. Fighting you.” She looked down at her hand, wrapped in bandage and properly cared for by the one person she thought she wanted to forget. “...Breaking one of your glasses.”

“You don’t have to be.”

“But I do, Thomas. It was childish and utterly disgusting behavior. I should’ve just asked you instead of being a coward and drinking away every fucking feeling I have. I want to be human, not some emotionless drunk-” She looked over at Tommy, a guilty look replacing her concentrated expression, “no offense, Tom.”

“None taken.” He nodded with a chuckle.

“I want to hate you, I want to so fucking bad, but I can’t. Nothing I do could ever make me genuinely hate you and I hate you for that. Except, I know it’s not real hate, and that only pisses me off more. I wish I could hate you.”

They sat in silence a little longer before her words at the pub tugged at Tommy ceaselessly. “Y/n?”

“Yes?”

“At the Garrison, when you were yelling at me, what were you going to say about me kissing you?”

“For one, you left me with a bullet in my gut-” She seethed through clenched teeth.

“My mistake.” Deep down, so high near the surface, everywhere- Tommy felt guilt for his act of abandonment. “I got distracted.” 

“By what?”

He reminded her of his question asked only a few seconds prior, “By the topic I’d like you to explain to me.”

“Oh...” Her eyes drifted off the side, avoiding his. “Yes, I was going to tell you that... That it confused me. That it had me so fucking bewildered, I couldn’t sleep or even think.” She blinked, as if tracing a memory. “It felt like your lips were still against mine, even now the feeling hasn’t faded, but it ran me up a wall. I knew you couldn’t be mine, so I drank those longing thoughts and feelings away. Every night since.”

“Why can’t I be yours?”

“Because...I don’t know. I just feel like...well, I’m not certain.” Y/n yawned. “But that kiss was the best thing that happened to me. Made reason in my life after I thought all my reason was gone. Yeah... Goodnight, Tommy.” She lied back and curled into his side, gripping his shirt lightly and nuzzling her face into his chest. Tommy wanted to stay there, hold her and revel in her warmth, but he couldn’t.

He picked her up and carried her to his car before driving her home. The key was in her purse, next to a photo of him- which he missed whilst digging around for her key. Tommy unlocked the door and pushed it open, taking Y/n up to her room and setting her on the bed. He lifted the sheets up to her neck, smiling as he watched her nestle the side of her face into her pillow.

“Goodnight, Y/n.” He kissed her forehead lightly and looked at her one last time. Then, he left.

[theyscreamjade]

Also, sorry if my request came off as "demanding" if you don’t feel like writing it that’s totally fine. 💜

Don’t Change Who You Are.

Let’s continue ~, YALL REALLY THOUGHT ID LEAVE YOU ON A CLIFFHANGER?!

——————————————

You arrived at the café where you’d usually meet a group of your friends before work. After seeking help from Neoma and a few recommendations from Mina as well, your whole demeanor changed. You no longer trained as hard, wore black or even baggy clothes, your attitude changed as well. You were no longer angry at the little things, or as cocky as you’d normally be during battles.

You walked into the café, holding a purse in your hand that held your boyfriend’s lunch and a few other things. You wore a tight pink dress with beige heels along with a fluffy jacket from the cold weather.

Upon the first reaction, Jade was quick to drop her jaw along with her phone. Kirishima soon followed before the whole table looked at you with astonishment. “.....What’s wrong?” You asked, worried.

“What the fuck are you wearing?” Jade asked, looking at you up and down. “It’s a dress...” you replied. Jade quickly snapped her head to Neoma and glared at her. “I’m gonna kick your ass..” “What?! Why?!” She cried out. “Yeah, Why Jade?!” You asked, looking at her confused.

“Because you were fine the way you are!” She said, looking back towards you. “I kind of like the new you,” Denki said before getting a charger plug popped into his mouth. “I don’t mind the change honey, I’m always all about it. This is just to...get someone’s attention but you already have.” She explained as you sat down.

“Then why is he so busy with that skank then? She’s been overstaying her welcome and it’s pushing me past my limit.” You confessed, anger boiling inside you.

“Have you thought to even confide in him?” Symphony signed, curiously before she sipped her smoothie. “I don’t do confining... it makes me feel weak.” You told them as Symphony sighed softly.

She pulled out her phone and typed quickly before playing an automated voice. “TELL HIM, HOW YOU FEEL!! HES A BLIND HOTHEAD YOU KNOW?!” Siri said before she looked back.

“I second that with Symph, Why didn’t you just talk to him? Tell him how you feel because he’s just going to keep doing it.” Jade soon added, looking at you.

You sighed and looked at the small group of people and a bird before you decided to give in. You needed to release some of this pent-up anger. After ordering a drink for the road, everyone soon started walking towards the main headquarters. It was time for the weekly meeting to talk about any new villains, what to watch out for, and others. Some would watch through their phones or laptop and others were able to just arrive at the large building.

When you walked in, everyone paused to look at you. It wasn’t even like you, while others stared, others began to mumble a bit. You recognized the spiky hair from a mile away as your legs began to move to him.

You were almost there when you spotted a white heeled boot, clock in beside before he turned around. You swayed your hips like Mina instructed and stood close to him. “Hey Baby~,” you said in a teasing tone. His eyebrow was raised immediately before he asked. “What the hell are you wearing?” He asked, confused.

“You like it? It’s a dress..” you said, smiling before you handed him his lunch you made for him. “I brought you lunch, I hope y-“

“Oh, I already brought him lunch. Don’t worry about it, I’m sure you’d like to keep it.” The girl commented as your grip tightened. “Considering, he’s my boyfriend and all. I was hoping. He’d like to take mine, I know how much he loves his spicy curry.” You responded, trying to keep your anger together.

“I could’ve sworn that he was sin-“ gravity suddenly dropped as Jade quickly made a shield around everyone. “He’s not single, you fucking skank.” You finally said as she glared towards you.

“How sad, I guess you're acting like me just to get his attention. If he’s yours? Why would you try to be like me?!” She asked, stepping back as she activated her quirk. Those were fighting stances, you didn’t care what she said. She activated her quirk and got into a stance. You shoved the lunch into Neoma’s hand and made a jump for it as Bakugo caught you mid-air.

“Okay. Guys, let’s take a deep breath and calm down.” Neoma began to suggest as the sidekick rolled her eyes. “We can start by you shutting up.” She responded before everyone paused. “Oh shit.” Symphony signed, her eyes growing big.

“Why don’t we have a chat?” Jade suggested, grabbing the girl by her costume. “I’m going to teach you a few lessons about relationships and how you talk to Pro-Hero’s, you fucking sidekick.” She said, trying to hide her obvious annoyance while dragging her away. The group soon followed, trying to relax the angel-like hero from committing a huge sin...like murder.

Bakugo snatched you away from the large crowd and shut you both in a closet nearby. It was a large storage closet full of old things and cleaning supplies. “What the hell is up with you?” He asked, looking down at you.

That question alone, made your blood boil. “WHAT THE HELL IS UP WITH ME?! WHAT THE HELL IS UP WITH YOU?!” You screamed. “YOUVE BEEN PRANCING AROUND THIS BITCH WITH THAT SLUT ON YOUR FUCKING BACK 24/7! YOU HAVENT BEEN WITH ME IN TWO FUCKING WEEKS! AND EVERYTIME I TRY TO TALK TO YOU, ITS IVE GOTTA TRAIN HER THIS! AND I GOTTA WORK THAT! ALL THE FUCKING TIME! NOT ONLY THAT, COULD YOU SUGGEST TO THE BITCH TO GET SOME FUCKING BOUNDARIES?! SHES ALL OVER YOU AND ITS PISSING ME THE FUCK O-“ you gasped softly, feeling your body pinned against the locked door.

“You’re so fucking hot when you’re jealous..” he grunted, a smirk forming on his face and a hardened bulge in his costume. You took a glance down to his pants before looking into his eyes, grabbing his shirt as you kissed him deeply.

His hands slammed against the door while you snatched the stupid dress from your body, breaking the zipper in the process. You had your costume here in the lockers so you could always just simply change here. Anger, jealousy, and lust swirled together made the room feel tense yet that tension was being released at the same time.

Your leg was lifted to his hip as his hand snaked to your ass, your arms wrapped around his neck while he bit and sucked your spot on your neck. Your head touched the door as his slams made the door shake.

Your moans gracefully slipped out without hesitation, you wanted her to hear just what he could do to you that she couldn’t have. You had to make sure she heard you.

Your noses touched each other as you and he stared into each other’s eyes, a smirk forming from your lips. “You’re such a show-off, babe, ~” he growled softly, pounding you harder, his grip getting tighter. “And you’re all fucking mine..” you responded to him, scratching his back.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Hey? Where’s Kacchan and Y/N?” Deku asked, looking around the room curiously. “They’re here, just not in here,” Jade explained, smiling innocently.

“That’s strange. I’ll go l-“ “I WOULDNT DO THAT..” she said quickly, standing up. “Why not, what are they doing?” Deku asked, curiously as Denki snickered softly.

“They’re having lunch. Bakugo wanted to have sandwiches so they went somewhere to make some.” Kirishima explained as Symphony slapped her head in annoyance.

“Why on e-“ “FUCK IT, I HAVE A SIDEKICK LOCKED IN MINETA’S APARTMENT!” Jade screamed as Deku paused. “What?!” He screamed as Ochacko stood up.

“Why did you put her there?!” Mina asked as Sero couldn’t help but laugh at the hilarious scene in his head. “He’s single, she’s single and desperate. I made a match in heaven.” Jade explained. “What the hell am I going to do with you...Let’s just begin.” Deku said, walking towards the projector.

A loud moan echoed from the hallway while Jade acted as if she was yawning. Neoma walked from the bathroom as Jade suddenly yelled at her. “Ah! There’s my bag!” Jade said as Neoma yelled. “I’m coming! I’m coming!” over your voice.

The one thing no one could block out that even Deku heard, was the infamous name of the hero that was getting you to your blissful climax.

“DYNAMIGHT!”

[sokkisky]

~brightest bird~

Want to make a request?: https://forms.gle/NyZgUcqkCPzHRvVn6

Want a short quick post?: https://sokkisky.tumblr.com/ask 

Rating: SFW (Angst, Fluff) 

Pairings: Keigo Takami (Hawks) x Winged Y/N 

Contains: Mentions of injury/loss

A/N: I honestly don’t think I’ve written much action scene, so this might be a first lol. The request reads as such. 

Jesus I’m blowing you up ok LAST ONE I PROMISE THIS IS THE LAST ONE so can I request a hawks x reader with the same wing quirk as him but a villian attack broke out they both had to respond and hawks wings were about to get burnt out but instead she sacrifices herself and loses her wings instead angst to fluff with a fluff ending please :>

So thank you so much @waffleareniceandfluffy​ for the request, it’s adorable and thanks for the continued love and support. Guys please always remember to take care of yourselves and be kind to yourselves, treat yourself today! And without further ado, enjoy!

“He’s gonna blow again!” 

“Watch out!” 

“Move!” 

~~~

Keigo loved your wings. Your wings were big, like his but they shone a beautiful yellow. They seemed brighter than the sun at times, the light shining from your feathers. Your quirk was like Keigo’s in that you could control your feathers, but they couldn’t leave the wing like Keigos. 

They’d shine. 

They could shine brightly or dimly, depending on what you made them do, and each individual feather was like this. Your quirk was beautiful, but able to blind anyone if need be. No wonder you were a rescue hero. You were perfect for the job. You easily guarded the ones in trouble flashing away any enemies. 

You were the number 11 hero afterall, the greatest rescue hero of all time. The people loved you, always coming up to you in the streets and talking about you. Next to Hawks you seemed to be the most beloved with the people, and there was endless talk about you two being the best duo in the city.

When you’d come home from a long day he’d sit next to you, watching your wings as you made them glow in beautiful patterns. “You are always gonna be the brightest bird, songbird” he’d say as he straightened your feathers, or flew alongside you to work everyday. He was allured by your wings, his eyes never leaving them sometimes as he just stared at your beauty. Not to mention when they’d glow and they’d illuminate your face. He adored it, your skin blended perfectly in your magical quirk. 

Which is why you knew he’d hate the decision you made. 

~~~

The villains were running mad and you, working alongside Hawks and other pro heroes, worked to get everyone to safety and arrest the Villains. You rushed people to safety as the villains and heroes fought before the heroes started squaring off with each villain. 

Hawks ended up with a darkened mist quirked villain. One who could make shredding dark winds with his quirk and despite being in broad daylight, they were strong. He was one of the worst villains nowadays having planned this whole attack. There was no way Hawks’ wings could stand up to his mist if he used it. 

And that’s what he did. 

“Hawks! Watch out!” 

You turned, someone having called out to your husband. You looked in horror as a dark cloud of heavy winds enveloping him. “It’s a dark barrier, we’d need an intense light to disperse it!” someone shouted.  The winds were strong Hawks’ feathers being forced away from the wing from the speeds. You couldn’t faintly see his form get pushed to the ground as he was caught off guard. He looked around, his crimson wings pulsating from the shredding winds. You watched him struggling on the concrete to find a way out. 

Dispelled by light? 

Without thinking you rushed in standing in front of him your wings spread out wide and shining brightly, a spectacle for anyone to see. The wind burned against your back as the swirling widened but weakened around the two of you. 

You wanted to scream but you held up as best you could. 

“Baby bird?” you heard a confused shout from behind you, but you stood forward, all your energy pressing towards the darkened winds. You worked hard, trying to make your wings glow as bright as they could. Your back began to feel lighter before the light glowed so bright it looked from a distance as if the sun had engulfed you all. Villains, heroes, bystanders, everyone alike. 

After a moment the light went away and the darkened wind villain laid defeated on the ground, but the light was gone. It was complete silence and you felt something was wrong. You tried to fly up, check the area, 

But you couldn’t. 

You flapped your wings but nothing moved. You reached your hand back before you felt, nothing. Nothing there. Panic set in as you turned around yourself but realization hit you.

They were gone. Your wings were gone. 

It took you a minute before you turned back to Hawks who looked up at you, a mix of sadness, worry, and pain in his eyes. “They’re gone..” he murmured quietly. You felt your eyes well up with tears. You watched as the heroes gathered everyone up to safety and arrested the villain but Hawks moved to his feet in front of you. “Baby…” he said softly, and you couldn’t help but move to his chest, sobbing in his arms over it. He held you close, his head buried in the crook of your neck as you sobbed. You almost thought you could feel small tears escape his eyes but you were so wrapped up in despair you couldn’t tell for sure. Your legs felt weak and your body felt not only emotionally exhausted but physically as well. 

But you were a rescue hero, and you did your job. 

~~~

The next few weeks were torture from the extensive media coverage to your departure from your agency. You left, although they said you could stay, because you feared not only the press but you didn’t feel like a hero anymore. 

You’d given up on your title and didn’t go out, curling beside your old hero costume that you refused to wear. You just cried, a darkness forming around you as your life seemed to crumble and fall apart piece by piece. Breaking off into terrible endless tears. 

Every night Keigo would do his best to comfort you, hold you and give you kisses, however you felt a slight tinge of envy whenever you saw his wings. You missed yours, they were big and beautiful and had always been a part of you. 

Not to menton a lot of the times you felt empty. Going through your day as a shell of your once self, losing bits of your once happy and outgoing personality bit by bit. You forgot what it felt like to smile, how to laugh, and it seemed that no joke or happy story could brighten your day. 

Sometimes you’d stare into the mirror, looking at your back and at the discolored skin where your wings had once been. You couldn’t believe they were gone. It all felt like a bad nightmare as you watched your reflection cry back at you. 

~~~

You watched your old hero videos all day, eating a tub of ice cream while past you happily fended off attackers from the citizens, protecting men women and children alike. You missed your job, and you felt alone. All alone and in the dark. 

 You heard the front door opening, Keigo stepping inside. He looked at you and sighed, walking over to you and shrugging the blanket off your shoulders. You turned to look at him, the ice cream spoon halfway tucked between your lips. 

“Come on songbird, I have a surprise for you.” he said softly, lifting you off of the couch. 

You turned to him, confused as the night time darkness outside settled in. You followed him out of the penthouse apartment and onto the roof, overlooking a city. 

But it was dark. 

You looked around, “What’s going on?” you asked him, staring out into the darkness. He smiled and held you close. “I know you’ve been feeling really down, and being the number 11 hero, I pulled some strings and we wanted to show you how amazing you are.” he said softly, his arms wrapping around your waist. “Ive been working on it for a few weeks with a million times more help. You looked at him confused. 

“What time is it songbird?” he asked you, and you pulled out your phone. 

“10:59,” you responded.

You were more than confused, why were all the building lights off, the only lights in the city were the few illuminating the city streets, yet no cars drove by. They were the only lights that were, until the city illuminated itself. 

You gasped. 

A large display of bright wings laid out across the landscape, the darkness fleeting when a brightly filled shape of wings spread across the cityscape. People cheered, clapping and shouting your name, some took to the streets and music began to play as drones from above caught pictures of the whole outlook. You could feel yourself begin to tear up as the people praised you and cheered and celebrated. 

You turned to Keigo who was supporting a large happy grin. 

“You are still our hero songbird, still number 11, still the greatest rescue hero of all time, and you forever be the brightest bird.”

[completeotometrash]

Stressed Out (Ikesen Kenshin)

@nad-zeta asked: Hi hi love! Eeeeep! Its been a while since ive spammed ya box🥺🥺❤❤ hehehe! I see your requests are open so i just had to jump! Low key been feeling super down lately and crushed by all the work that needs to get done....... so here i am to ask for some fluff and bunnies to ease the soul❤❤❤❤❤ hehehe could i pretty please request a mc x kenshin comfort fic🥺🥺🥺 lol one where mc has been over working to the max and needs a little break❤❤😳🥺🥺 hehehe if ya need anymore detail or inspiration feel free to dm me😳😳☺☺

Love ya lots! Sending hugs!❤

___________

Ah, Zeta! I love seeing you in my askbox so much <3<3<3. You’re the cutest. I hope you are doing ok??? You better not work yourself too hard or I’ll come over there and suffocate you with my love. D: Or perhaps I will anyways, it’s quite tempting.

Anyways, this came much softer then I intended. But I must say, I’m quite happy with it ^^. Bunny boy fluff onw~!

Word count: 1.4/5k

TW: None

Reader has she/her pronouns

Tired.

Kenshin had noticed the dark circles under her eyes, the way she began tying up her hair more instead of combing it, not changing as often. He watched as the smile on her face changed to only a meek grin, how the light in her eyes seemed to crease. Her energy was draining on the daily, her bones seemingly heavy like weights by the way she walks. He looks outside, watching as the sun begins to descend from the horizon.

To tell the truth, she had not been feeling like herself lately. There was so much to do after she properly moved to Kasugama. She had become more well-known and offered to complete more sewing commissions. It seemed as if there was never any time, and if there was, it would quickly slip from her fingers. She would find herself not wanting to get out of bed in the mornings, let alone put on a fake smile for other’s pleasure. Her eyes skim across the velvety fabric in her hands, dropping it with a defeated grunt.

Setting her needle to the side, she rubs her forehead, dragging her hand down to rub her eyes. The weight of everything was beginning to crush her, it was suffocating. She was slowly losing the passion and inspiration she once felt when making clothing. Trying to find the fun in something when it becomes overwhelmingly urgent is nearly impossible.

She had not even noticed the sound of the door opening behind her, or the footsteps that followed. Shakily she inhales, head drooping downward. Her throat is dry, her hands began to shake from the tension in them. Everything had begun to crumble out of control.

When a strong pair of arms wrap around her shoulders, she gasps with surprise. Her heart races in her chest, threatening to explode. A familiar hand traces her arm gently, bringing her a slight sense of relief. Hot breath tickles the sensitive skin on her neck, lips pressing there.

“You need a break. The sun is coming down and you’ve been working since this morning.”

Kenshin’s voice is sultry, deep. It holds so much intensity that she almost melts into her chair. She wants to lean into his touch, let him take her away so that she never sees a needle again. But her actions differ from her thoughts. Straightening her posture, she cringes at an error she notices she made in her stitching. “I will later, I messed up here; the thread will be visible when wearing if I don’t fix it.”

She can feel his glare even without seeing him. His displeasure radiates off his body in an almost radioactive way. “The stitching can be done at another time, come with me.” His command makes her grimace.

“But it can’t… I promised that it would be done by tomorrow and they’re paying me for it. If I cancel now, what does that say about me as a person? I want them to buy my clothes more in the future, they are nice people. I only need a few more hours and I’ll be finished.” She lifts her needle yet again, pulling out her previous stitches from before. She had previously decided that she wanted to start making money for herself instead of just lending some off of Kenshin is she would be living in the Sengoku.

Standing up straight himself, he turns and looks around the room. Multiple different kimonos hang around them, each made by her with high amounts of precision and skill. It had been so long since they’d been intimate with one another, this was the most he’d even talked to her all day. He kneels at her side, paying attention to her hands.

He of all people knows what it’s like to consume yourself with something. For many years, his entire life was revolved around war and training. Nothing else mattered to him. At the time it seemed ideal, but looking back at it, he knows it was all just pure misery. An unhealthy way he chose to cope.

The woman he loves needs help- it became clear to Kenshin that it was his turn to do so.

He takes her palm in his own, clasping it gently with his calloused fingers. He notices how red hers have become. He rubs them gently, and she doesn’t stop him. She feels as if she cannot, for, the relaxation that encases her body is too much to deny.

She’s missed his touch; it’s been far too long.

Without saying anything, he takes the things from her lap, setting it to the side. She cranes her neck around in circles, closing her eyes. In an instant, strong arms are reaching out from under her, lifting and pulling her against his chest. She feels a tinge of guilt for giving in, but the ever-growing exhaustion triumphs all. She wraps her arms around his neck loosely, letting him take her away.

He sets her down in a chair, and she can hear him begin to pour water into a tub. Her eyes open and watch. “Oh, Kenshin, you don’t have to-”

“I want to.”

Her eyes begin to water as he helps her slip out of her clothes. She gets in the tub, letting the water sooth her tense muscles. Kenshin joins her shortly after, pulling her close to him. They sit there in silence for a while, he washes her thoroughly, wiping away all the stress he can. His hands soothingly glide against her neck, back, and anywhere else he senses even the slightest discomfort.

And finally, she presses a kiss to her temple, resting his head against her shoulder. “What’s been going on?” His question is clear, voice deep as he whispers in her ear. She didn’t know how, but it was as if everything began pouring out of her in that moment. She could feel the hot tears stream down her cheeks, ones he wiped away with the gentlest of touches known to man as she began to explain everything.

She told him about the pressure she feels and the guilt that lingers when she thinks of disappointing everyone. How she’s started to become repulsed by the thought of sewing, and that waking up and getting out of bed has become a difficult task. At one point, her gentle cries became full on sobs, her body shaking more and more.

Kenshin only pulls her close, listening to everything she needed to say before speaking himself.

“I love you with all of my heart, ___. I’d die for you. I need you to know that you do not need to work yourself so hard to make yourself useful. You are perfect, and if anyone ever makes you feel any different, then I will need their name so that I can kill them.” The seriousness in his last statement makes her shiver.

He continues, “Please do not overwork yourself. We will get through this, together. I don’t want you being so stressed out. You deserve a break, and to never feel this way again.” Kenshin takes her chin in his hand, “I am amazed with how strong of a woman you are. You are so strong, for that matter, that you make me stronger. I want to do the same in return.”

 She is truly left speechless. Kenshin was never the verbally affectionate type- or the best with words at all, for that matter. And yet, here he is, speaking from his heart. She turns around properly, looking into his eyes. They seep with love and intensity, boring into her soul. He adores her with his entire being, as he always will. The look alone stirs a warm feeling in her chest.

His tender lips crash into her own, pressing the softest of kisses there. Her mind goes blank as she hugs him tightly.

“I love you.”

“I love you more.”

Being lifted back to their shared bedroom, he lays her onto the futon, pushing her hair out of her face. She smiles, but this time, it’s genuine. Her mind and body feel light again, she feels as if she is unstoppable. Although, she becomes slightly confused when he walks to the other side of the room, opening the door to the garden.

Suddenly, a large flash of white, black, and brown fills her vision. Balls of fluff topple onto her freshly cleaned body. Little noses tickle her sensitive skin, a fit of giggles escaping her lips. All the small furry companions only seem to be spurred on by this, laying on top of her like a warm blanket.

Kenshin can only bring himself to smile at the scene, watching her burst into yet another hysterical fit of laughter. He decides in that moment that there is absolutely nothing better than seeing her smile, and regardless of what it would take, he would always seek to find it.

[treasureswordsgirl55]

Sacrifice

Character: Armitage Hux

Pairing: Armitage Hux x RebelFem!Reader

Inspired by: Hurt - Christina Aguilera

Warnings: Little Fluff. Mentions of Death. Torture. Mentions of blood. Angst. All Angst. 

Author’s Note: Hi!! This fanfic is special ‘cause I wrote this a moment later than I saw a conceptual art of The Rise Of Skywalker.

I felt that Hux deserves more. And the idea that he could handle a lightsaber was… Whoa. Why not?

Thanks you again for all your replies. That means so much. XOXO

                                                 -.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

“There’s nothing I wouldn’t do, to have just one more chance to look into your eyes and see you looking back…”

Kira tried to get rid off those stormtroopers but to no avail. She tried to escape them through the wide and busy streets of Kijimi but they always seemed to be one step ahead. She walked trying to lose herself among the people and a few meters before reaching the desired entrance that would take her away from the ghost with green eyes that would not stop chasing her even in her dreams, that trooper with the red badge on her shoulder called her "garbage" before hit her on the head. The brown-haired young woman fell to the ground with a delicacy worthy of a dancer, as if she knew she would be watching her.

The darkness took over her brain and she imagined in a place where she did not have to escape and could have him by her side.

The group of men surrounded her as Kylo Ren yelled that they must hurry back to the destroyer.

Kira was on a mission outside the Resistance: Her own mission

She had joined her a few years ago when he decided to stop hanging around and start doing something for the galaxy.

And if there was something she regretted in all this, it was having seen him walk among the enormous number of bodies in that small town that she had to suffer at the hands of the empire, as if it were a parade. His expression was one of contempt and hatred, but Kira could tell that there was some guilt in those disinterested features, as if nothing mattered in the least.

As if life was worth nothing.

She regretted not being strong enough to hate him, remembering the whole scene of her but he had highlighted his presence in such a way that she was etched on her head.

That was her mission.

She wanted to rescue the little humanity that she sensed that he was left inside him.

The first thing she heard when she was conscious was the muffled voice from Ren's helmet screaming for someone to warn her as soon as her scavenger was found.

The footsteps moving away, the sound of the destroyer's security doors closing rapidly, and her complete silence caused her to open her eyes. She found herself in that "torture room" that she had told him so much about and that she could feel the panic with her voice at the idea of ​​her ending up there inside her.

Still, Kira was not afraid.

She knew it was a matter of time before that dark knight came to save her. Or at least to let go of her so that she could escape.

She didn't have to wait long, after a few minutes that seemed endless, the door opened again and she closed her eyes. General Hux looked to the sides, not raising suspicions among his troopers and hoping that the shot the rebel had given him was enough to make his alibi work. Otherwise that would be in vain.

- You have to go. Now - The fit of her hands disappeared and Kira automatically jumped into Hux's arms, who responded by holding her against his as if living depended on it. She breathed in that sweet vanilla scent that he always remembered and tried to memorize it in his head. If all this went well, he could see her again. But something inside him told her that it would be the last time he would hold her in his arms. The last time they had seen each other they had almost been discovered, but that had been a long time ago - Listen to me, you must go.

- Only if you come with me.

Hux turned away from her and wished he could run, escape from that nightmare he had been living in and start from scratch. I brush a lock of black hair from the face of the woman he had learned to love from a distance and gently tuck it behind her ear. Kira leaned her face against his hand and enjoyed the contact. She felt so full with him there that she believed it to be an illusion that in minutes she would vanish.

- I can not. They must see me here.

- They'll kill you if you stay here.

- They don't even suspect that it happens with me - He moved away to look at her back and see that there was still no one. He took Kira's face in her hands and kissed her without regret. He cared very little to be seen, even more so knowing that the Empire was falling. I enjoy that contact at the same time that Kira wrapped her arms around her neck and deepened that kiss. She had missed him so much that she believed him inhuman. They separated for lack of air and she raised her hand to run her hand through that red hair that she loved so much, just to ruffle it a bit - Let me do my job. I'll get this over with and I promise I'll meet you.

- I do not want to lose you.

- Me too, darling. Me too - He hugged her again and concentrated on them, on the few memories he had of her: That first meeting on Yavin IV where he grumbled something about Ren's damn stubbornness and had seen her playing with children of different species . The children laughed and hugged her, and by that moment, Hux had realized that he had forgotten what he was supposed to do there. She had managed to captivate him. - We will go to that place you love so much when this is over. And I'll take care of you for the rest of my life.

- Come with me - Kira extended his hand towards him and Armitage took a step away, feeling how the tear-filled gaze of his little warrior pierced him as if it were a lightsaber that burned him without even touching him - Please ...

- I always knew there was something wrong with you, Hux - The two of them parted just as Kylo Ren's voice filled the hall and Kira tried to pull Hux towards her ship. It was useless - Here's the damn spy.

It was not a question and Armitage knew it very well. If they wanted to get out of there at least he had to knock it out to give the Resistance time. Give Kira time to leave.

- Fuck you, Ren.

Hux moved to stand in front of Kira, protecting her from whatever Ren wanted to do to her. And what worried him most was that she hadn't done anything yet.

- Did you realize that you were on the wrong side and decided to try to do something? - The irony in the supreme leader's voice made Hux's blood boil.

- I hate you.

- No more than I hate you. Thanks for giving me a reason to kill you - Ren looked back at Kira and raised her hand, pointing at her, but he decided to wait. - And then I'll take care of her.

- Over my dead body.

- It will be my pleasure, then.

Hux took advantage of the moment to turn to Kira and push her away from where they were, destroying with a shot the control that operated the glass doors, which closed automatically leaving them separated from each other.

- Go away! - Poe, who had seen part of the scene in the distance, turned quickly to try to get his partner away from the place. For some reason unknown to him, Ren was waiting to make his final move, because he considered that another time, the two of them would already be dead - Now!

- Would you dare to challenge your supreme leader just to defend a damn rebel?

- You have no idea - Kira, who was dragged by Poe, could see in the distance how Hux's arm disappeared under her cloak, at her waist and when she took it out she was holding what seemed to be a saber To be. The rebels stopped when they saw that red light fill the room and Finn's curses filled the corridor full of dead stormtroopers. Chewie's growl alerted them that they should go, but Kira slipped out of Poe's grasp and ran into the corridor where Hux was standing.

She would do anything in her power to bring him to safety, even if it meant losing her life trying.

The intense red light illuminated the room and for a second, Kylo Ren was silent, surprised at the image of his "mad dog" holding a lightsaber. If he had not expected something in all that, it is that someone of all the inept around him, he had the ability to do something like that.

He nodded silently, in the end perhaps he would have a rival equal to him, apart from Rey.

Not knowing where he had gotten that strength, Armitage thought of Kira and prepared to face Ren until he left his last breath. In a second he turned to the corridor and could see how the Wookiee was carrying his warrior, from which he could hear his screams accompanied by tears that made his heart clench even more.

It took him a couple of blows against Ren's saber to know that he would not have a chance to knock him down, much less get out of there, so he decided to make the most drastic decision of his life.

At the cost of the suffering of both.

- You won't be able to do anything to help her.

- I can, I'll give her time.

"Forgive me, my little girl"

Armitage gave his last thought to the warrior before activating the saber that was aimed at his body. Pain ripped through him with the force of an earthquake and he looked into Ren's eyes for the last time, who could only think of his former general's cowardice in dying at his own hands committing suicide. Although inside he admired the ability he had to let himself be carried away by his feelings.

At the other end of the galaxy, General Organa felt a fluctuation in force and it did not come from her son or any of her young women that she was aware of were force sensitive. But at the same time, he felt a romantic connection coming from Kira, which was connected to that fluctuation.

He felt the sadness that the young woman felt at the same time that that fluctuation disappeared, in the same way that had happened with Han.

He walked away from him at the same time that he waited for the transmission of the small team from him, hoping to have good news.

——————————–

- I know ... there are no words that will make that little heart of yours heal, darling - Leia's warm voice made the excruciating pain that Kira felt fade a bit. She sucked the tears out of her and didn't dare turn to her. He felt that he had betrayed her and yet, she was there to comfort him. She dropped her head to hers, crying uncontrollably as the ships prepared to enter hyperspace. It was enough for her only to listen carefully the story of your favorite pilot to know what had happened and try to understand it. The spy of the empire ended up being a general who had fallen in love with a young woman from his ranks. And that he had sacrificed his life for the good of the galaxy - but he lead us here.

- I couldn't save him.

- That is not true. You saved him, Kira - Leia approached the young woman and took her by the hands, but Kira couldn't meet her eyes. The general took her by the chin and made her look at her, reflected in those bright eyes that only showed the sincere pain that she was suffering. She could feel her heart breaking with each passing minute, just as she could feel the light of the Force illuminate Hux's soul through Kira. She had saved him long before she knew it - he decided to sacrifice his life to keep you alive, because he loved you.

- His sacrifice gave us time. He gave us hope ...

Leia knew that she was about to break, she knew that it was a matter of minutes before that young woman with the unbreakable frame fell and let the pain take over her.

- Armitage died helping the Resistance, Kira, and that will always be remembered by all of us here.

To her surprise, the young woman nodded, releasing one of her hands and wiping away her tears.

Kira felt that her body ached too much, but hearing Leia's words made her feel a little better amid that tide of pain. She saw her General remove something from her robe and she handed him a lightsaber. She instantly identified him.

It was his lightsaber.

I doubt whether to take it, even knowing what that meant to both of them - I sent Finn to look for it as soon as I knew the destroyer was abandoned. I knew it would mean a lot to you to have it if Ben didn't have it.

- I don't know if I'm capable of having this.

- The force run through you, Kira. Don't let it fall asleep. Make his name remembered and make a difference.

- Thanks. And I'm sorry.

- You don't have to feel it. You don't choose who you fall in love with. Personal experience.

- General?

Leia turned around and before Kira even asked the question that was hovering in her head, she gave him a sad smile.

- Time takes away the pain but it will never go away. You learn to live with him. And in the end, that's what we live for. Never forget it.