#but then i must block. for my peace of mind frankly

[canichangemyblogname]

So, I've not watched 911, nor do I know anything about it beyond what I've been reading on your blog in recent months.

Needless to say, the recent "discourse" has me beyond horrified, not only as a parent of two young kids (and a decent fucking person), but as a survivor of CSA. I am beyond words at the mental gymnastics you, and others, have encountered by the people defending that fic. Like, you deal with that shit daily in this hellscape, but this is a whole new level.

If pushing back against CSA being broadcast on Ao3 as entertainment makes you an "anti", then okay, cool. Label me an "anti" too then. It's well worth it.

"Anti"-white supremacy 👍

"Anti"-TERF 👍

"Anti"-CSA 👍

"Anti"-government usurping control of a person's body 👍

Any and all levity aside, the sheer (and frankly deliberate, at this point) lack of reading comprehension and overall intelligence at the pushback you've received over this is mind boggling.

Hit dogs holler, indeed. At least you've been able to fortify your block list.

You're doing good work, Evan. As exhausting as it is, keep it up, my friend.

Steph 🫶

I hope you know that you are a wonderful human being who deserves nothing but peace and kindness.

I’m putting the rest of this under a cut for mention if CSAM and mentions of triggering bigotry:

The 911 fandom is a mess-mess. From “joking” that people should be allowed to publicly execute men for flirting with men in a way that gives them the “ick.” To arguing that queer men are liars and cheats who spread disease. To joking about queer men dying of AIDS. To routinely using either the mammy trope or “sassy black” trope to characterize the Black Women of the show. To routinely hypersexualizing—like—the token Latiné character or relying on the “sassy Latin” trope in their characterization of him, too. To defending ableism. To now defending CSAM and a literal pedophile who has written several fics featuring CSE (that are often mis-tagged, mis-described, mis-rated, and re-uploaded under new names to get people to accidentally read them).

And if someone’s response to “Hey, we should do something about this” is to go “Nooo! But my blorbo fan fantasies,” they need to log-off and go touch grass; spend several days talking to people in-person instead of through a screen. It’s about the most chronically online BS reaction someone could have.

As you said— this shit shouldn’t be broadcast for entertainment. And that’s what’s getting lost to people. These fics are very truly explicit material featuring sexual fantasies about children, and they’re being posted for arousing entertainment. The person may have claimed they were doing this to punish fans for supporting a (new) canon queer relationship, but given how they’ve expanded their tags to catch wider audiences, that is clearly not the case. They want you to read it and enjoy it.

Like… I understand that there are a lot of powerful men in important positions who uses moral affronts to CSAM to actually censor queer people or information on bodily autonomy. But assuming that anyone who claims to care about child sexual exploitation is actually lying and has nefarious motives is… dangerous. And fallacious. It is so-so important to actually analyze what an individual is saying and how. There’s a difference between “there should be a report function specifically for CSEM” and “we should shut this site down because the people who use it are porn-obsessed degenerates.” There’s a difference between “I don’t think this site should have an anonymous feature because it allows users to easily subvert a block, and protecting a block should be the responsibility of the site, not the individual user” and “this site is full of dangerous kinks that could give kids ideas, so all of it must go!”

But if you can just lump anyone who disagrees with you into one group and label them “bad and oppressing me,” then you don’t need to critically analyze your own gut/emotional reaction to what they said. And what they said might have actually been a fairly reasonable—and incredibly moderate—step forward.

All I suggested was more robust blocking and reporting mechanisms on a BETA site.

It’s telling that they only bring out the chronically online names and discourse terms when it’s about CSAM. Many (but definitely not all) of the very people going to bat for never, ever changing Ao3 because it’s “perfect” were also the same people who unironically argued that two adult fictional men over the age of 30 joking about a 10 yr or less age gap between them are “predatory” and “making light of incestuous abuse.” Although, IDK what else I could expect from people who “joked” that they hoped certain fans would kill themselves over fictional characters.

Something about the whole thing screams “I only protect power and its narratives.”

[teamhawkeye]

Okay so they still won’t leave us alone. They’re still in Ted’s tag and just won’t go elsewhere now trying to make something of the mass unfollow Ted did for whatever reason he wanted.

But they’re still just harassing g the tag.

the best solution i can give you is to utilize the Block and Report buttons.

because they don't actually care about truth or justice or anything they try and masquerade this crusade as - they just want to ruin a man's life, plain and simple. there's absolutely no other way to spin it at this point.

it's been proven that the misconduct they've been so hellbent on crucifying him for is FALSE/COMPLETELY MADE UP and yet i still got to see with my own eyes "i don't care if that girl was lying, he still should go down for it". go down for a complete lie??? you're going to keep insisting he's a groomer when you have just admitted yourself that it's not true????

they also at one point tried to say this was "to protect the minor" in question. and yet doxxed her, slutshamed her, continue to keep calling her names and harassing her and her family. this is a child - one saying and doing stupid shit online that has done damage, yes, but a legitimate child. and these are grown ass adults trying to destroy her while flying the banner of "we must protect-" literally shut the fuck up, no one believes you. especially when they're still stalking and harassing said minor even as of just a few hours ago - a literal child, remind you.

they're deranged and have no lives - no one else would devote this much time to trying to destroy a B-list actor for no other reasons than petty revenge. and because he didn't give them the attention they wanted, because they formed a parasocial relationship with social media accounts they don't even know that he runs himself or alone.

no other explanation other than being chronically online and unhinged.

and frankly, it's pathetic.

don't give them your time, don't give them your attention. block, report, move on. you can hope they'll lose interest with time, but probably not soon, so just spare your peace of mind and ignore them

[delicrieux]

—MAKE YOU SAY “OH” EXTRAS: TINDER

extra meaning non-canonical occurrence; can be placed anywhere in the “make you say oh” timeline after couple (cha. 14) and before the final “oh”. 

pairing—corpse husband x f!reader warnings—tinder profiles, tw: men, swearing.  word count—2.6k. format— written. ─── ❥ req by nonnie​:  y/n makes a youtube vid/live stream where she's just swiping through her tinder acc and corpse literally blocks her lmao

author’s note—akldsljfs this was such a funny idea i could not not write it lmao

ultimate masterlist. myso masterlist

You have pulled the biggest brain move by setting up both a facecam and a screen recorder on your phone. All is beautifully displayed and visible during the stream. Your fanbase is particularly intrigued on what exactly are you planning on doing today, seeing as your tweet of “strea” had been a bit vague, if not downright ominous. No emojis. No elaboration. You couldn’t even be bothered to finish the word. Truly, a mystery. Everyone tuned in and are currently waiting with bated breath.

A few of your fans must sense upcoming doom because the overall mood in the chat turns from optimistically intrigued to...evil. It’s an entity all on it’s own now, clawing at you through the screen with various renditions of laughter and devil emojis. A few eggplants thrown in there for good measure, accompanied, naturally, by the scandalous water drops. At first the common consensus is that you’re biting the bullet and going through your camera roll on stream. Definitely an idea worth considering, though you frankly don’t know what lies at the start of the 11k photograph journey, and you are afraid to check in public. Could be a harmless meme, could be a salacious pic you had saved of an OF star. It’s really a gamble. Either way, you would definitely get banned. You might still get banned. Why do you insist on doing shit like this?

Because it’s funny. Because you’re kinda stupid. Because it’s just so absolutely laughably easy to do.

A smile quirks your lips, and while it is not explicitly smug, the look in your eyes sure is, “Greetings,” You utter lowly, dimming the lights--the budget for this stream! Ugh, you went all out, “my children.”

mother i crave violence

sensing evil energy rn!!

i do not claim the energy in this video for myself or anyone else watching this 💖💖

^with peace and love shut the fuck up

“I know y’all lowkey hoes-” Upon your words the chat splits into two: one side eagerly agrees (even shares a few OF accounts! How helpful, supporting small businesses!), whilst the other feverishly insists on innocence. You make a face stuck somewhere between offended and bewildered, “Now c'mon now-I know you. I know you all. We’re the same, don’t-what was that?”

You try to scroll back to the comment but it’s loss in the sea of incoming messages, “I swear to God I just saw-”

Corpse_Husband: i love late night streams it’s not like i have anything better to do.

“COOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOORPSE!!!!” 

rip headphone users

i cant feel my face when im with you by the weeknd but instead of face its my fucking ears

yall think full vol on pc is better?my parents woke up 😭😭😭😭

To think he’s spending his last waking moments for today with watching you (he probably still would have anyway, because you do not posses an ounce of shame or self-control and pester him relentlessly)! It makes your heart sing, and suddenly, a traitorous, fun hating idea barges it’s way through the crowd of incoherent buzzing and states: don’t do this. For some reason it also has the voice of Rae. As if that would work in guilt-tripping you- Rae never succeed, and her fictitious rendition in mind won’t fare much better either.

Still, you thought about it. That must count for something. Corpse will understand, won’t he? Why don’t you want to upset it in the first place? Men look so funny when they lose their shit, like hello, don’t you have anything better to do? But the image of Corpse just sitting there, hurt, distraught, leaving you on seen because he’s in his sad boy hours leaves a sour taste in your mouth. 

queen rly went from  🥺😊 to 😕 u ok bbgirl?

Corpse_Husband: no pouts cutie

akjdjoeijdfse cUTIE??? deadass boutta r.i.p.

Well that succeeded in eliminating everything from mind, doubts included. If this was an anime, the scenery would shift into something roseate, with flowers and bubbles and sparkles all around you along with a halo or two. Alas, not an anime, rather reality. The led-lights, however, seemingly possessing a will of their own, slowly turn from deep violet to pink. You smile brightly, like the absolute dumbass you are, and you are met with a ray of heart and blushing emojis. You are just so cute, a real cutie! Still in your disguise adorable state, you swipe your finger on your phone screen, the grin never leaving your lips.

There, among the plethora of apps, nestled sits a red square with a white fire plastered on it. The delicate calligraphy on the bottom reads: TINDER.

The mood changes once again- you’re giving the roaches emotional instability by how quickly everything flips over- and the chat spams eggplants vigorously; some, of course, bravely fight against the thirst.

nooooooo i thought y/n is gonna stream in a god honoring way!!!

^pack it up girl defined

“So, Charlie and I-” You note a few awfully curious comments and squint, “-yes, we talk a lot. Charlie is a really good friend of mine. We’re best friends. Brothers. Sisters. Cousins. The whole fucking family tree-no, that sounds weird. Delete. Anyway, Charlie, being the absolute fucker he is, said, hey, you know what would be funny? And I was like, nooo, what would be funny, Charlie? And he says to me, he says, says, making fun of men on Tinder. And if y’all need any more proof that Charlie and I are platonic soulmates, then dunno, my children, my roaches, I dunno-I dunno what more to give you.”

You can’t be bothered reading the comments, there’s too damn many. You also need to save your reading comprehension for the actual bios. It has a time limit, that darn thing. 

“Okay, so I made a profile earlier, but I hadn’t swiped on anyone yet-” Despite the fact, Tinder helpfully informs you that already 99+ people have swiped right on you, “So, this is me,” You show the pictures you have of yourself, and damn, not to be a conceited narcissist, but you look really good. Like if you saw yourself on Tinder, you’d super like instantly. “Uhm, so, my bio-my bio says: let’s sauce in the tub together, ya dig? splishy splashy, giggle giggle.” 

i cant believe we are witnessing y/n trying to form a coherent sentence live 

shes trying give her time

ya dig??? y not capeesh

what scene from the godfather is this lol?

“My anthem, is,” You laugh, covering your lips with your hand, “Corpsie, this is form you-” Proudly, you show that indeed, Corpse’s E-GIRLS ARE RUINING MY FUCKING LIFE is listed as your anthem on Spotify, “Hehe.” Yes, you say that aloud.

Corpse_Husband: you’re killing me Corpse_Husband: thanks baby Corpse_Husband: now delete tinder ❤︎

You ignore his last quip, deciding it’s finally time to get this show on the road, “Right, let’s do this shit. I’m not actually going to swipe on any guys that look, uh, decent? Yuck, can’t believe I just said that, uhm, because I-because I feel like some actually deserve a chance with someone? I don’t wanna get anyone’s hopes up, as I am currently in a long distance relationship with Chrollo. So I’m just gonna swipe on, like, frat boy assholes. Because I don’t care if I hurt their feelings. Quite frankly I don’t think they possess them in the first place.”

The chat voices their agreements. With the ground rules set, you, giddy, click on the first profile.

Does Tinder know what you’re doing, your plan? The FBI agent watching you through your phone must be working overtime, bless his heart. They must, because the the first guy to meet you is named Jason, and there he is, blond hair and blue eyes, holding up a fish the size of his torso. Marginally adequate in looks, pretty good muscles. A solid 7 bordering on 8. He’s the same age as you, 15 miles away, and he studies at some college you don’t care enough to look up. Bio reads:

I like to drive fast. Fishing is my passion, but if you can’t catch me by the ocean, you’ll catch me catching waves, bro! Love a good gym date. You do squats, and I’ll keep a close eye to make sure you’re doing it correctly ;) You probably saw me at a party. Leader of the The Phi Kappa Psi. I’m a Gemini, if that matters lol.

You, of course, read it aloud, dramatically; provide some constructive criticism-he seems nice, but he’s a Gemini, so naturally, you can’t trust him at all! Also, that gym date session leaves little to be desired. With your rant done, you swipe right, and shocker! (not), it’s an instant match.

“Okie, I still wanna swipe of some profiles, so I’ll see what he’ll text later-” For a second you wonder the legalities of this stream, but you’re having too much fun to think of it further, “guys, I won't get sued, right?”

NOW she considers it

well....

if you do, we’ll kickstart your lawyer dw <3

Onto the next profile. Kevin, 25, is seen fixing his car- or, you assume he’s mid-fixing it, you don’t really know why else he’d hold a wrench and be covered in oil. He’s shirtless, and the caveman part of your brain echoes something closely resembling AWOOOGA!, but...but!...blonde hair, blue eyes. You pout again, “I don’t...I don’t really like blond boys, ya know? With the blue eyes and all, it’s just not my thing, uhm, unless it’s like-like...Armin from Attack on Titan. Else I don’t care.”

Onto the bio:

You have to treat a car like you treat a woman: go on long rides, take the lead, but most importantly, keep her oiled up 😜 

“What the fuck did I just read?”

The chat is equally confused. You swipe right anyway- another match. Too easy.

The stream continues without incident for a solid thirty minutes- all of your matches, expect a few that genuinely looked like normal dudes that really couldn’t write a decent bio to save their lives, had been blond hair blue eyed gym rats with ranging forms of misogyny. Some opened with asking for nudes out right, some asked about your day first before asking for nudes. You prefer the former. Straight to the point! You admire the gall. 

But then, down the forty-five minute mark a profile popped up that made you still by your phone, your smile dying as your eyes bulged. Dear God. Lord in heaven. Who is this demonspiit lookalike and why is he so fucking hot? The neck tats, the skateboard, the clothes- holy shit, you gotta close your mouth before some drool dribbles out.

No bio, just his name, Tyler, and that he’s 23.

“He boutta be 23 in me.” You mutter, swiping right with lightning speed.

WHAT DID SHE SAYYYYY?????????

tyler is y/ns karma for relentlessly mocking that one guy that had a whole ass list on what his “female” partner should be

^he deserved it and also tyler seems like a typical fuckboi y/n grow a braincell

look at mom 🥺 her eyes are sparkling

It wasn’t a match right away. You somehow expected as much, but it still upset you. Simp behavior, pathetic. The stream continued bravely, and when Tyler messaged you a simple “yo” you totally didn’t sequel. You didn’t manage to text him back on stream: texting all those guys that you didn’t really find all that attractive was easy, but this...You’re a sucker for a man who radiates red flag energy. His whole profile is a red flag. He might just be a red flag himself.

What can you do? Suddenly becoming color blind is not easy. Once the stream ends, you unmatch with everyone expect Tyler. He you chat with for a bit, but a sudden craving for different company makes you abandon him, too. You don’t feel too heartbroken for him- you’re certain there’s already too many girls in his dms. You wish them luck.

Happily, you delete Tinder. You go to Twitter, notice you’re trending again- look at you go! Queen shit- and as you compose a thank you tweet, something strange happens. You go to text Corpse, but when you click on his profile you grow cold.

YOU’RE BLOCKED. You can’t follow or see @/Corpse_Husband ‘s Tweets. 

...Pardon? You hop onto Instragram and-also blocked. Seriously? And you thought you’re one petty bitch. Corpse is seriously prissy about everything. Damn, if he didn’t like your stream, he could’ve just said so. Didn’t need to, like, block you from his internet existence. So not cool.

You try texting him but no text go through. Well how will you let him know you deleted Tinder just like he asked? You relieve your frustrations by punching your pillow a few times. Later, you apologize to her, you didn’t mean to hurt her, it’s not her, it’s you. Fuck, 5 minutes of exile and you’re already loosing your mind.

“Raeeeeeeeeeeee!” You whine loudly. It’s roughly 2am now, but you don’t care. You’re too heartbroken to care. There’s a thump from her room, but nothing else, “Raeeeeeeeee!!!” You wail, wallowing in self-pity on your bed. You hear a very loud, very annoyed sigh from her room, followed by angry marching. Your door is abruptly thrown open, and in the dim, colorful light you see her scowl.

“What?” She grits.

“Can you please tell Corpse to unblock me from everything?”

“What did you do now?”

“I made fun of men on Tinder.”

She pauses, “...That doesn’t sound so bad.” She surmises, voice laced with suspicion, “What else?”

“...There was one really hot guy that I kinda sorta talked to after--”

“Y/n.”

“-But I totally deleted Tinder and honestly he was pretty boring, so, like, uhm, please?”

She sighs, the servery of which implies she is holding the weight of the world on her shoulders, and instantly you know that you won. She taps away at her phone, “You owe me one.” She states, and before you can reply, she exits your room and slams the door behind her.

Grinning, you text his phone again. The message goes through, oh gosh, you’re so relieved you feel like crying. This has been, officially, the worst five minutes of your life.

You Y DID U BLOCK ME LOSER!!! MAJOR LOSER ALERT!! I DELETED EVERYTHING IT WAS A JOKE r u still mad at me? y u always mad at me i never do anything:(

my husband You’re my baby, how do you think I’ll react when I see you publicly simping for some asshole on Tinder?

Oh no, he used the words, he delivered the killing blow. You’re finished. Your heart can’t take such a workout. 

Not that you would ever admit it to him, though!

You hehe ur jellyyyy u always dis jealous hehe?

my husband Not jealous.

Yeah, you might not be the brightest tool in the shed, but even you know that’s a lie. You send him an array of kissy emojis that he doesn’t have the decency to reply to. Then, completely unprompted and dead serious, you send him a simple voice memo, saying: “You really have nothing to worry about, you know? You’re my favorite, Corpsie.”

He responds via text, reiterating that he’s not fucking jealous and that he just doesn’t like when you show such outward interest in anyone but it’s not like he cares or anything. It’s just really, like, weeeeird to see his baby simping for another man like that totally ruins the whole dynamic!!! It was only natural that he should block you on every social media platform, including his personal number (which, like, was completely necessary! Doesn’t matter that his viewers can’t see it, it’s gotta be super believable!), and inform his followers of that, because it’s all a joke, like, for the dynamic, that Youtube grind, you know? Ya dig? No personal feelings were involved at all. He totally wasn’t upset that you found someone else cute, no way!

my husband I’m not jealous. Lol.

You ik u repeated tht like 50 times  u trynna convince me or??? lmao

my husband No comment. ...You don’t actually talk to anyone else like we’re talking, right?

You no one else calls me their baby if thts wat ur wondering at least not to my knowledge lol im all urs

my husband That makes me very happy to hear:)

Yeah, it makes you very happy, too.

hope you liked it!! xx

[forsakenmis]

Calming her down

Title: Calming her down Pairing: top!Wanda Maximoff x female!reader Rating: 18+ Incredibly NSFW Warnings: Dark Wanda, kind of non-con, strap on, fingering, mummy kink, post-WV finale so spoilers if you haven’t seen it. also i haven’t editted it so beware grammar and spelling mistakes. Word count:  4215 words

It had taken far too long to track her down. Why they asked you to do it, you weren’t really sure. It’s not as if you and Wanda ever really talked, or even made eye contact, during the years as an avenger. Yet you were given the task of pulling her back onto the rails, rails she’s apparently veered pretty badly. You really think Doctor Strange, the Gandalf of wizards, would be a lot better at handling her than you would be. Or even Clint, the guy who was her mentor. But no-no one wanted to reach out to her, even though they spent years arguing that she needed to be supervised. You could go on for days how you being the person being sent is the most ridiculous idea they could have had.

You weren’t even a super, or an avenger, you started off as a shield agent who was then thrown into Stark Industries as Tony’s intern. Fury wanted an in and you were that in. Then everything went bottoms up and you became a slightly more valuable member of the group. Support, really.

After the snap, you just wanted a stable life. A normal life. By the time they contacted you to do this, you’d applied to a college. No, a university. In Australia, which was far, far away from New York. The briefing was simple. Wanda, left to her own devices in her time of need, went to try to handle her own grief after stealing Vision’s body from S.W.O.R.D. You were being asked to go try to talk some sense into her. Then, within the week of you repeatedly saying no, it turned out the head of S.W.O.R.D. was a bastard which you could have seen coming from a mile away, and Wanda was god knows where.

They promised you they’d leave you alone after this.

So you said yes.

What could go wrong?

You were still asking herself that three weeks later when you were sitting there still trying to find out where exactly she went. Wanda wasn’t going to be easy to find, especially considering she didn’t want to be found but you did it. It was four in the morning when you finally narrowed down a list of ten possible locations that she could be in. You were too tired to even crack a smile, you fell back onto your bed to sleep.

Your celebration was sleep for by the next morning, you were trekking across the world and came to the outskirts of a property with the view of the mountains. Pretty, sure, but you didn’t think Wanda was here for the view.

It was eerily quiet when you walked up to the door. That type of quiet they put into horror movies before they pulled out a jump scare. You didn’t trust it. Then again-not that there was anything around to make noise. Wanda could be asleep, as maybe all this isolation has meant she’s forsaken a body clock.

Still-you trusted it as much as you could lift Mjollnir and you couldn’t even make it shift.

The curtains were closed, you couldn’t see anything as you walked up the two steps and you had to stop your hand from hovering over your handgun. It would have been more of a self assurance. You couldn’t dream of winning against Wanda in a fight, both of you would be aware of that, but you couldn’t exactly imagine she’d be that trusting of you if you walked in holding a gun. So you fiddled with the watch around your wrist, it was a gift from Tony years ago.

You could have brought reinforcement, sure, but that seemed like a moot point considering you were trying to gain her trust, somewhat. The reinforcement would have been S.W.O-oh whatever, sword, you don’t have the time for formality. And sword made such a huge mess of it the first time round so you didn’t think they were going to help this time round. You tried calling Clint, but he was busy, apparently. Too busy to pick up your calls.

This was definitely a suicide mission.

You knocked three times with the back of your knuckles and listened, trying to hear any hint of movement.

Nothing.

You knocked again. Knock. Knock. Knock. Not even a creak.

Maybe she was asleep or maybe, dare you say it, had gotten it wrong. God, you’d hate for some old man to swing the door open.

Your hand dropped to the handle, going to test the lock, but then it swung open and if it wasn’t for your own instincts, you would have stumbled forward.

Wanda.

Your eyes slammed onto her face and, for the first time in years, you fumbled. She looked different, way too different for your liking, she looked older since Tony’s funeral. Mature. More confident in herself. You could think of a different million ways to describe her in that split second.

She’d always been pretty before but this Wanda was…gorgeous. This Wanda could also read minds.

You cut your thoughts short and took in a slight breath. Wanda wasn’t saying anything and her only acknowledgement was the slight hook of her brow.

“Wanda,” you began before forcing a smile onto yourself, “long time no see.”

“So they sent you, of all people,” Wanda remarked and you made a face. Sure-she was right but that was, quite frankly, rude.

“They suggested I come and I wanted to come,” you lied, “to see how you were doing...okay, look, I know we never talked. Or interacted. I know that. I was probably not the most open to you as I could have been.” Wanda was continuing to stare at you. She was dressed in jeans and a white t-shirt. A shirt that arguably was one size too small for her. You weren’t really sure what to say, if you were honest, you’d spent so much time trying to find her, tracking her down like a puzzle, that you forgot to plan for this interaction.

“But I like to think we were on good terms,” you continued. Worst thing she could do was close the door in your face and you were more than happy to camp outside. “Enough that you’ll hear me out. I heard about your book, the darkhold–” That’s when you got a reaction out of her. Her eyes narrowed, growing even colder, and you could see her grip tightening on the door. “–we need to talk. Please-just let me in. I’m not going to fight you. We both know I can’t do that.”

You were keeping your thoughts clear. You didn’t want her reading you.

After a second, Wanda swung the door open wider and let you in.  

Your eyes scanned the room the moment you entered the threshold, looking for all the exits, before you turned back to Wanda. Wanda, who had closed the door, and had started walking towards you, close enough that you took a step back but found yourself hitting the back of a table.

Now that she was right up in your personal space, close enough that you could smell the soap she was using. Your heart was beating now.

“So you came for the book?” She asked, staring down at you. She was only a couple of inches taller than you but it may as well have been more.

“No, I came here to help you. And I know that book isn’t helping you, no matter how much you think it is. Wanda, that book is dangerous,” you said, gaining enough courage that you pushed yourself off the table to step forward, getting into Wanda’s space just as she was in yours.

“I’ll be the judge of that,” Wanda remarked but she didn’t move. “You’re as bullheaded as you used to be, never knowing when a fight was too big for you. I remember all those times Nat and Steve had to throw themselves on the line because you’d done something reckless.” “That’s rich coming from you.” “I could protect myself,” Wanda snapped back. “So where are they? The rest of them. The people that said they were my family. Were you all that they had?”

You clenched your teeth. Don’t say the truth. “They wanted a woman’s touch with it,” you lied. “There isn’t that many of us who were close to you back then anymore.”

It was really only Nat and maybe Pepper who were close to Wanda. Both were a little preoccupied as of right now (for different reasons) to come knocking on Wanda’s door.

“A woman’s touch?” Wanda echoed, saying it in a way that made you clench your teeth. It was a raspy whisper. “And what, may I ask, would that entail?”

With the way she said it, you were pretty sure that Wanda wasn’t meaning it in the same way you were. Albeit, your meaning was rather off as well. In that you had no idea what that would entail either.

Wanda must have realised this and took a step back. “I suggest you leave,” she said and you hesitated before shaking your head.

“I won’t do that,” you said and she frowned. “They asked me to calm you down–”

“Calm me down?” She repeated, pronouncing each syllable, and it was as if the temperature dropped ten degrees. “Calm me down.” Then she smirked and it made you roll back on your heels.

“As long as you have that book, yes,” you said, “how about this–I take the book and then I go. You’ll think more rational without it, Maximoff, you know that. Deep down. You’re smart, Wanda, smarter than anyone ever gave you credit for. Besides Vision–”

“Don’t say his name,” Wanda snarled and suddenly she was in front of you again, hand around your throat, “do you understand me? He doesn’t exist here, not with you around.”

You didn’t really know what she meant but you ran with it and nodded. Her hand was tight and your airway was becoming a little too blocked for your liking.

She stared down at you, her eyes hard and cold, but then they softened and her grip loosened but they still didn’t leave your skin.

“You know, I might have pursued you back then, if it wasn’t for him,” Wanda began and you blinked. What? “You were everything I liked in a girl. Besides your recklessness….and stubbornness...but I think I can deal with that pretty easily.”

“Wanda, I’m flattered, really, but how about we focus,” you said, carefully, deciding to take that with a grain of salt and then over analyse it at three in the morning. Like how could you be cock blocked by a bloody robot? “Just give me the book and I’ll leave you in peace. I’ll make sure no one comes looking for you–” “You can’t promise me that,” Wanda remarked before she dropped her hand to take a step back. Then she looked you up and down. “You said they wanted you to calm me down, right? How about I keep both you and the book.”

You would like to say you were able to fight back. Prevent Wanda from knocking you out. But you were gone by the time she finished her sentence.

----

When light streamed into your eyes, the first thing you registered was the soft pillow underneath your head. Then you felt the rest of the bed and your eyes sprung open.

Your legs were bent up and out, Wanda’s red mist wrapped around your ankles and knees to keep them up. Meanwhile, your wrists were stuck to the headboard. Then your eyes rested on….Wanda?

Transparent Wanda reading that bloody book. You swear to god-you’ll burn that book the moment you get your hands–

“You’ll do no such thing,” Wanda’s voice cut through your apparently rather loud thoughts. You turned your head, trying to find her, and there she was in the doorway, sipping a cup of tea, watching you. Then she kicked off it and moved into the room and slid the mug onto a table before coming to the bed. “Maybe I’ll let you hold it one day as I read it.”

“I don’t...I don’t understand, Wanda, let me go,” you whispered as you began to struggle, pulling on the restraints again and again, but they weren’t budging. Neither was Wanda.

“I don’t think I want to,” Wanda hummed as she pushed herself onto the bed, “you see, I lost everything. My brother, Vision, Nat, Steve, my two boys, then Vision again. I lose every single family I ever have. Maybe this time I’ll succeed. I’m trying to find them, you see, with the book. Find them and pull them out. We can live here, happy, away from everyone.”

“We’ve done this story before Wanda, it didn’t–” “This time will be different, I’ll be more powerful, I won’t mess up this time,” Wanda pressed as her hands went to your inner thighs, moving them up and down your clothed skin. “And, when it comes to you, what they don’t know won’t hurt them. I don’t think I’ll let them see you. No, you can be my little secret. I stared at you for too many years, let you whore yourself out to other people. Not anymore.”

You drew your brows together. This couldn’t be happening.

“As you said, you’re meant to calm me down, right? Meant to pull me off some edge because everyone else was just too busy,” Wanda said as she positioned herself between your legs, bending down to kiss your jawline. You throbbed and pulled on the red strands wrapped around your wrist, but to no avail. “But I can think of another edge you can get close to,” she whispered as she pulled away again.

“Wanda, what are you–”

Her fingers slid in between your thighs, pressing into your heat, and a sharp gasp left your mouth. She began to rub through your jeans, cupping your heat, and you tugged again. This time, the red scratched the watch around your wrist and suddenly your clothes had snapped into the red armour Tony had built you years ago. Protective armour that replaced whatever you were wearing in a nick of time.

Useful.

The shift was enough to push Wanda off you and she stared down at the red and black armour with a slight tilt of her head.

“Well, that won’t do, will it?” She asked as her hands trailed down the cool metal. “Neat trick. Tony’s design, right?”

“Of course,” you responded after a moment, your chest rising up and down. There was no point in denying it-it was obviously Tony’s. Right down to the colours.

Wanda’s eyes turned red as the red mist circled around her hand as she lowered it back down. You flinched when you felt it slink in between the small crevices. The suit was meant to be protected against outside substances, able to go into water, but you supposed Tony didn’t exactly build it against Wanda.

“Wanda, you don’t–” “If you don’t be quiet, I’ll make you, do you understand me?” She hissed as she bucked her hand backwards and the suit around your hips ripped off you and tossed across the room. You whined as the cold air hit your bare skin, contrasting the building heat in between your legs.  

You were left with nothing but the top half and the pants that wrapped around your thigh. “Much better.”

With that, she went back to what she was doing before but this time there was nothing to prevent her from slipping her fingers through your slick folds, the tips of her nails teasing your entrance.

“Look at you, already so wet,” she cooed and you gritted your teeth. This really couldn’t be happening. This was a dream. She could control reality, this was just a dream. “This isn’t me in your head, sweetheart, trust me–I would have cut the foreplay if I was creating this.”

She continued to massage your heat and it took you everything you had not to moan.

“Why are you…” you tried saying but you were cut short, once again, when her fingers found your hooded clit, using the tips of her nails to start playing with it. You bucked your hips instinctively and she chuckled.

“You said you wanted to help me, right?” Wanda asked and the building heat was beginning to become a little too much. “So how about this, sweetheart, you help mummy out by becoming mummy’s little stress reliever.”

Two fingers suddenly plunged into your entrance and your back arched. At least your clit got a little bit of a break but it wasn’t long until her palm began to grind against it as she thrusted the fingers into your tight entrance. Each thrust expanded your walls, letting her in even deeper, your own arousal making her movements slick and quick.

“Wand-” you began to moan but it morphed into a sharp yelp when she pulled her fingers out to slap your cunt.

“You’re a smart girl, sweetheart, it’s how you got around Tony for so long. I think you know exactly what you want to be calling me,” she said and suddenly she was back down so that her face was only inches away from yours and her fingers slid back inside of you.

Unlike last time, though, it wasn’t rough and sharp. Her fingers were slow as they moved inside of you, curling at the tips, scratching your walls. Exploring. She was exploring you and you could do nothing but whimper and moan.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you? I know you would. Look at you, already so wet and submissive for me,” she whispered, scattering kisses down your jawline as she reached your ear to nibble on your earlobe. “I’ll keep you in here for as long as I need you. Ride your pretty little mouth as I read that book, fill you up again and again until you’re passing out. All you have to do is be a good little girl.”

Heat was curling through your body, that buzzing sort of heat, that made your vision blur. Your teeth were clamped together. You wanted to moan, they were in your throat, but even when you opened your mouth, no sound came out. Just silent moans. The fingers moving inside of you had grabbed all your attention.

Then she scratched that little sweet spot and it was that that pushed out a moan that bounced around the room. Wanda laughed, hitting it again and again.

“Let your mummy hear your moans, sweetheart,” she said before she pulled back to kiss you on the mouth, biting hard on your lip so you wouldn’t even try to close your mouth and stop the tongue that slid into your mouth.

Your stomach was twisting into knots at this point and seemed like every other muscle seemed to be cramping. You were close to climax. Your walls clenched around Wanda’s fingers. Just a little bit–

You groaned when she peeled herself off you. You blinked up at her, looking through what seemed like tears, as you were denied that relief. Relief from the throbbing coming from your cunt.

“You want to cum, baby?” Wanda asked as she pulled off her shirt. Underneath was a simple black bra that was quickly disposed of. Your eyes, naturally, landed on her chest. A chest that, even under the circumstances, made you drool. Wanda’s clicking your fingers drew your eyes back up. “Eyes on mummy, sweetheart. God, you really are a little whore, aren’t you? Tell me-do you want to cum?” You pulled on your restraints just once more but all it seemed to do was to make it even tighter.

You nodded, jerkily.

“Use your words, sweetheart, I very clearly established you’re not mute,” Wanda remarked as her fingers went down to her jeans, fiddling with her button.

“Yes. Please, I want to,” you mumbled, knowing you won’t be coming back from this point. Then again-if she could make you feel like that again...maybe that wasn’t so bad.

Wanda tilted her head as she hummed, not having to move much to slap your sore cunt again and you jerked. “Say it politely and maybe I’ll consider it.” You scrunch your eyes shut and mewled when she began to knead your pulsating clit again. “M-mummy, please,” you whispered and her hands left your cunt. Before you could even open your eyes, you felt her lips on yours. Soft, gentle...loving.

“Good girl...that wasn’t so hard, was it?” She asked and you could hear the ruffling of her pants as she kicked them off. “Now...mummy’s going into your head, okay? I promise it won’t be long.” You began to struggle again but the warmth of her powers quickly washed over you. Your memories began playing the past three months. You tracking her down. Refusing back up.

Then she was out again.

“You really told no one where you were going? Almost as if you wanted this to happen,” She said as she shifted on top of you. Shifted that you felt something rub up against your entrance and you flinched. She...she was packing. “Of course I am, sweetheart, do you really think I wasn’t prepared for you? I knew you were coming from a mile away, honey.”

And with that, she pushed the strap inside of you, not bothering to wait for you to adjust until she was completely inside of you. You arched your back again, pressing into Wanda’s naked body, as the pain of being ripped open rushed through your body. You moaned and grunted as you grew adjusted to the width and length of Wanda.

“Come on, baby, you can do it,” Wanda murmured into your lips and suddenly your wrists were freed. But then her own hands came up to wrap around them to press them against the pillows herself. “I know you’ve taken bigger. Do you think we didn’t know? Didn’t know you and Nat were fucking every other night?” The comment drew you out, just for a moment, and you shook your head but all she did was pull back slightly to slam inside of you again.

“Don’t lie to me,” Wanda snarled, “tell me, tell me the truth. Use your words.”

It took only a few more thrusts of her strap filling you up again and again that the words began to spill out of your lips. “S-she found out. About my status as a shield status. Fuck,” you hissed out, barely able to hear your own words over the lude noises of Wanda beginning to pound into you. This wasn’t fair-you couldn’t dream of talking when she was fucking you like this.

“So you whored yourself out to her to make sure she kept her mouth shut,” Wanda said, finishing the sentence and you nodded jerkily. “You little slut. I bet you liked it too, just like how you like me pounding into you. But you’re mine now. Not hers. Not Tony’s. Mine. My little whore.”

She shifted upwards so that her chest was dangling above your face. “Suck your mommy's tit, baby, I saw you admire them before.”

It was a welcome change, you had to admit, to trying to formulate sentences and words around the moans and screams spilling out of your mouth. Your head leaned forward, closing the distance, so your mouth could wrap around her erect nipple and your walls clenched around her strap as you heard her moan.

Her hand moved to the top of your head, her nails scraping against your scalp as she interwove her fingers through your messy hair. Your tongue lapped at the small bud between your teeth and she began to move her hips in time with your tongue.

Your now free hand wrapped around her body so your nails were digging into her shoulder, drawing Wanda down even closer so you could take more of her tit into her mouth.

The same heat that had built before was coming back, and you weren’t sure how long you could hold on at this point.

“You can cum whenever you want, baby, just this once,” Wanda purred, hearing your thoughts, and it was all you needed, that confirmation, to come undone. Your walls clenched around the strap and you could feel Wanda slowing down as thrusting became just a tad more difficult and you screamed into her tits, careful not to clamp your jaw shut, as the orgasm rushed through you.

Even through it, she continued moving inside of you, and you almost felt like you could pass out.

“Good girl,” Wanda whispered. “Oh, I could get used to this. I’m going to keep you in here, do you hear me? Make you a good little whore for me to come home to.” They did say your mission was to help Wanda calm down.

[markresonates]

minors !!

nowhere in the rules of tumblr does it state you must include your age ANYWHERE on your blog or bio, which leads me to question why some of you interact with users that state MDNI using a blog where you openly admit to being underage.

i'm well aware that underage individuals read my writings, but i like to pretend that every reader of mine is +18 for peace of mind. i started reading smut wayyy too early in life, so it would be very hypocritical of me to tell you to fuck off or block you. besides, you could just make a new blog or read on desktop without having to login if you were really that determined to read content from smut writers who may have blocked you.

to clarify, i’m not saying you should lie per se, but you don’t have to tell everyone you’re under 18, because frankly, knowing a 14 year old reads explicit fics i wrote makes me uncomfortable.

[petri808]

Prompt- Marking/Monster fucker @bkdkkinktober Day 5

Izuku woke up with a start, hand clutching over the heart racing frantically in his chest to the darkness of a witch’s hour. The sheen of sweat coating his body glistened in the moonlight flowing over his bed, and his breathing raggedly trying to find normalcy in the pungent scent of sex still lingering in the air. But how if this was just a dream? A dream perhaps, yet the strongest since they’d started two weeks ago. The sticky dampness between his thighs indicating anything but fiction.

A slight breeze through the window sent shivers along Izuku’s body still sensitive to the touch… the touch— his touch… The red eyes and blonde shadow emblazoned behind his eyelids. Who was he? This thing, this person haunting his dreams and sending his body into realms of ecstasy night after night to leave him wanting and drained the next morning. He couldn’t wait to get back to bed after a long day of work, ready for more like a drug addict jonesing for their next hit.

“I want more…” Izuku whimpered into the silent room. Of strong hands dominating his toned frame, sharp nails… or were they claws? Regardless, the way they dug into his skin and controlled his hips forcing him to behave… Izuku reached into his boxers and began stroking his cock through this trip down memory lane. “Yes…” he whined, “more, I want more…” of heated bodies entwined, feeling so safe below that scarlet gaze, yet frozen by their stare— and the bites… he remembered the canines that sent his heart stuttering. Izuku paused mid-stroke to reach up to his nape. Yes, the tenderness was there again, but skin still unbroken.

To experience being filled and fucked by this gorgeous dream man. Damn, he’d do anything to make this real! Take him, mark him, a willing slave if it meant nights of endless bliss! “Please—” Izuku groaned. “Be real…”

Each night that passed by left Izuku craving more, and body left spent and tired the next morning. He didn’t know how dreams could cause so much exhaustion, but the intensity was definitely increasing. The logical part of his brain knew damn well this wasn’t good for him, too bad his lonely heart was winning the fight.

“Y-Yeah, I’m heading out right now sir— literally running out the door as we speak… Yes, Mr. Aizawa, I know it’s the second time this week I’ve been late, I… I need to get a new alarm, I think mines broken— oh… of course, sir, I’ll grab that on my way to the office for you.”

As he rushed out of his apartment, Izuku clicked off the phone, repeating his bosses order. “Double macchiato, add cinnamon, double macchiato add cinnamon, don’t forget— OOF!” The phone went flying out of Izuku’s hand as he smacked right into a solid object and bounced back, falling on his ass. “Oh, my goodness, I’m so sorr—” Izuku gasped.

“Tch. What a way to welcome your new neighbor.” The stranger held out a hand to help Izuku up. “Just be more careful next time.”

“R-Right,” Izuku stammered, “sorry, mister?”

“Katsuki Bakugou.”

“Mr. Bakugou, thank you— I-I mean sorry, again!” Izuku bowed before rushing away.

Blonde hair, red eyes… It couldn’t be! This was the first time he’d met his obviously solid flesh neighbor, so there was no way he could’ve dreamt up the beefcake! “Couldn’t be,” Izuku mumbled to himself. The man was very new, moved in maybe a week ago… ‘right around the time the dreams started escalating…’ He shook his head. Ridiculous. Those were dreams and this man was real— they couldn’t be linked. By the time he got to work, Izuku put the whole event out of his mind and focused on his job before he lost it.

A guy that hot was out of his league, so why not just live in his dreamworld?

“Ka…cchan…” The name wisps out from Izuku’s lips as clawed hands guided the sharp rocking of his hips, ground firmly over the man’s cock. “I can’t—” Izuku whined, legs trembling and starting to give out. “Please…” It was the first time of any of the dreams that the mystery lover had him doing the work.

But in the blink of an eye, Izuku found himself on his back once more, his lovers low grunts to his moans echoing as he was filled over and over in rapid succession. The man’s face stayed buried in the crook of his neck— till a cry rang out, Izuku’s own from fangs sunk deeply into his skin. Familiar, delicious white-hot ache flowing through his system, sending stars flashing beneath his eyelids, and red glowing eyes burning in his mind, filling his soul with a sense of wholeness his life was lacking.

“Mine…” the male growled, “forever…”

Forever…

BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP

“Ahhhh!” Izuku shot up in bed, drenched in the familiar sheen of sweat to the sound of a blaring alarm. “Fuck!” He groaned and dropped back down. Stupid alarm! But as amazing as these dreams were, they were seriously starting to drive him insane. His days were turning into endless cycles of unfulfilling work and fornication, work, and fornication— with a physical emptiness left in its wake.

As routine, he touched the painful spot on his neck expecting the same thing he’d endured for weeks— but this time, something wet and tacky hit his fingertips. “What the?”

Izuku scrambled to his bathroom, and there in the mirror— two fresh puncture wounds… a gasp broke free. “Oh, my god—”

That was the first time the dream blonde spoke to him. It’s deep raspy voice sending shivers through his body just thinking about it. But it was so embarrassing to walk into work with a large bandage on his neck to hide the wound! Lots of snickering and questions of who the lucky guy or girl must have been to mark him with a hickey. If only it had just been a hickey! All the other nights left the area tender for just a few minutes, and no evidence, but today the damn thing still throbbed. This was all becoming way too real for Izuku— and frankly, scared him a little. ‘Forever…’ The thought had even crossed his mind that someone was simply breaking in every night, but there was never any proof.

So, as he crawled into bed that Friday night, the throbbing spot on his neck a reminder, Izuku set his alarm to go off at 3am. If there was any truth to this nightly visitor, he was bound to catch him if could break free from the dream. This was it! He had to know what the hell was going on!

Izuku twisted in his bed, whimpering under the lustful gaze of his dream lover. “No, please…” he shivered as the long tongue teasingly flicked the tip of his over sensitized cock. His body was still coming down from a high that had left a sticky mess plastered all over his torso.

“Say it,” the husky voice demanded.

“Forever…” Izuku breathed out.

With a grunt, red eyes flashed, centered, and drove its cock all the way into Izuku. Growling, “forever mine,” as he leaned over to suckle the man’s mark with licks and tortured kisses. Each touch ignited the same soul-stealing connection that kept Izuku trapped and begging for more. Powerful hips rocked in measured cadence, filling the man over and over to finish what it’d started.

Izuku’s back arched and legs clamped around his lover’s waist, nails digging into the man’s shoulders as heat swirled and a familiar smoky scent grew in the room. He sensed his lover’s climax, could feel it coming like a sensor knowing a storm approached. Their connection… it felt so real… so good— different this time. Peaceful, no pain… “forever…” Izuku mewled as darkness overtook him.

The distant sounds of morning slowly crept into Izuku’s consciousness. Soft bird chirping, the muffled roar of cars on a nearby street. He moved to bury his face in his pillow to block the sunlight, shifting his body from its side to his stomach— only he couldn’t. Izuku’s eyes pop open as the awareness hit. He wasn’t alone. Without moving his head, his eyes looked down at what was around his waist and saw arms, hands— someone’s hands?! Wait! His alarm hadn’t gone off either!

He forced himself to shift so he could see who was spooned up behind him and found blonde hair. The neighbor?! Izuku screamed at the sleeping male. “What are you doing here?! How’d you get into my apartment?!”

“If you’re gonna wake up your mate, a good morning would’ve been nice.” Katsuki mumbled against Izuku’s back. “After all I’ve done for you.”

“Y-You? I, w-wait, the dreams, h-how?!”

“Shhh,” Katsuki clamped a hand over Izuku’s mouth. “Go back to sleep, talk when I’m up.”

“Maft?!” Izuku mumbled back.

“Forever, remember? I need more sleep, now shush.”

“I wilf nats sh— ahhh—”

A blinding white light hit Izuku’s mind again, followed with a dull ache in his neck as Katsuki’s mouth clamped over the mate mark on his neck. “Oh, my kami—”

“Now do you believe me?”

Izuku looked over again at Katsuki’s face and noticed the man’s eyes were glowing red and fang tips glinted from his mouth. “F-Forever?”

“Forever.”

It was all real, and yet somehow… maybe this wasn’t so bad after all...

[keigoslovebird]

Next Chapter

Pairing: Ushijima Wakatoshi x Reader

Warnings: Manga spoilers!! Pregnancy and references to pregnancy, you have a child (obvi), aged up characters, breeding kink, negative self image (on Toshi’s part), references to alcohol, self deprecating language, very fluffy Daddy Toshi shenanigans

Genre: Fluff, smut

Word count: 8.3k

Author’s note: I had so much fun writing soft husband Toshi, if it isn’t obvious by the word count. I just want to rub his soft belly and tell him how much I love him. Hopefully you enjoy this as much as I did writing it!

Note: Flashbacks indicated by italics

Wakatoshi Ushijima has always been a man of few emotions and even fewer words, with just one thing on his mind—volleyball. 

Since he was a young child, he has always slept, eaten, breathed volleyball. Nothing came close to his fiery, burning passion for the sport, not that he had the time to care about anything else.

That all changed when he retired from professional volleyball at the ripe young age of thirty-one, the years of wear and tear on his body finally catching up to him. He knew it was time when the pain in his joints was so severe he could no longer keep up with his much younger teammates. It was a difficult, emotional decision, but he ultimately viewed it as passing the torch to the next generation of volleyball players.

The announcement of Wakatoshi’s retirement was met with great sadness from the sports community at the loss of such a talented, renowned player, but he left behind an exceptional legacy marked by achievements and historic wins. 

His final game with the Schweiden Adlers concluded in a symbolic victory, this chapter of his life drawing to a close the same way it began—with Wakatoshi as an indisputable champion. Every player, coach, and audience member rose from their seats, clapping and screaming words of encouragement. Each of his teammates got on their knees, lowering themselves to press their foreheads into the floor of the stadium, bowing in an ultimate show of respect. The sight of his peers, his coaches, the entire auditorium giving him such an impassioned send off made a heavy lump form in his throat that refused to go away, no matter how many times he tried to swallow it down. Tears pricked at his eyes but he didn’t want to cry, not in front of all of these people.

The dam broke when you sprinted across the court, wrapping yourself around him in a bone crushing hug.

“You did so well Toshi. I am so proud of you,” you praised through choked sobs, pressing your tear-stained face into his neck. Your watery eyes and trembling smile shattered whatever willpower he had, his own tears streaming down his face like a waterfall. All those late night practices away from you, the excruciating injuries, the heartbreaking losses, all led up to this moment. This was the last time the Super Ace would step foot on a volleyball court as a professional player, but all good things must come to an end. 

The screaming and clapping was so loud you could barely hear his quiet, trembling whisper of, “I love you.”

----

It took him awhile to adjust to what one would call a “normal” life, one that didn’t include daily flights from country to country or backbreaking practices that lasted from sunup to sundown. Sure he still went to the gym and practiced with the volleyball net strung up in your backyard, but it was nothing like his grueling schedule when he was a pro athlete. To make matters worse, the blinders he wore his entire life that blocked out anything but volleyball prevented him from finding any real hobbies of his own. This meant for the first few months, your husband followed you around the house like a lost puppy, just wanting to be a part of whatever you were doing.

You would be cooking dinner, some soup simmering on the stove, when Wakatoshi’s massive form would come up from behind you to shyly peek over your shoulder. 

“What’re you doing?” he wondered, resting his head in the crook of your neck.

You could feel a smile tugging at your lips at how cute he was being, getting used to domestic life, something you never really got to experience until now. Before, you would often be sleeping when he came home at night, and still be asleep when he left in the morning. “I’m just cooking, do you want to help me?” you asked, holding a knife out to him to cut some vegetables. He nodded silently as he took the knife from you. 

His chopping skills left much to be desired, but what could you really expect from a man who only ever held a volleyball?

Another time you were sitting on the couch, scrolling through Twitter on your phone. You could feel your husband staring so intensely you were afraid he’d pop a blood vessel in his head.

Looking up at him, you cleared your throat and asked, “Did you need something, Toshi?” You set your phone down and gave him a questioning look, hoping to solve whatever was troubling him.

He was pensive for a moment, his eyebrows scrunching as he figured out what he was trying to say. “No, I just… There’s nothing to do,” he answered finally.

You nearly burst out laughing at his concern for simply being bored, but you held it in. “Of course there’s something to do!” you exclaimed, “You can go on a walk, read a book, watch TV, or even just take a nap.”

His head tilted quizzically, unsure of what you were suggesting. “A… nap? Why would I sleep? It’s the middle of the afternoon,” he questioned, sounding like you had proposed he eat sand and not to take a quick snooze.

You chuckled and walked over to the chair he was sitting in, plopping yourself down into his lap. “Sometimes people sleep in the middle of the day because they’re tired, or just because they want to,” you clarified, “We can go take a nap right now if you would like.” 

Suddenly Wakatoshi stood up, causing you to squeak in surprise, his arms securely carrying you bridal style.

“W-what’re you doing!?” you squealed, panicked by your sudden lack of solid ground, slightly struggling in arms. 

He tilted his head again, reminiscent of a pet confused by its master’s orders. “We’re going to take a nap together, yes? I’m taking you to our room,” he said, jerking his head in the direction of your shared bedroom. 

You stopped squirming once you took in his words, your belly fluttering with affection. Sighing happily, you snuggled your face against his chest, giving him a simple “mhm” in response.

That day Wakatoshi took his first nap since he was six years old and to this day, he still swears he’s never had a more restful, peaceful sleep in his life.

Those instances happened less and less often as he figured out ways to occupy his time that didn’t involve volleyball. 

You adopted a dog, a commitment you didn’t want to make in the past due to both of your busy schedules, but your lives became a lot less hectic after Wakatoshi’s retirement. Your husband made it a daily ritual to take your puppy Leo out on a morning run, both of them returning tired and sweaty before promptly passing out for an hour. He took up a job at the local university to help coach their men’s volleyball team, deciding to try it out when the requests to lend his wisdom and skills kept coming in. Although, his favorite pastime now consists of him standing outside on the patio, beer in hand as he sweats over the flames of his fancy silver grill.

But perhaps the most significant change in your lives came in the form of your son, Hidetoshi. 

Much like your refusal to commit to taking care of a dog, neither of you wanted to have kids while your lifestyle was so unfit to raise a child. You didn’t mind making those compromises for your husband, having known the path he would take since you started dating in high school. Frankly, you didn’t mind not having children at all, so it surprised you when he was the one to broach the subject. 

“What if we did?” he inquired under the darkness of your bedroom.

You turned over to face him, reaching up to gently stroke his cheek. “What if we did what, my love?” you murmured.

His eyes flitted across your face with an uncharacteristic nervousness. “What if we decided to have a child?” The shock on your face made his stomach churn uncomfortably and he almost regretted saying anything at all, but his fears quickly vanished as your expression melted into a soft smile.

“We’d have to talk about it more but I’d love to have your children, Wakatoshi Ushijima.”

You had a deep, lengthy conversation about your wants, needs, plans for the future, and whether or not a kid would fit into them. Once all of your cards were on the table you decided to start trying to get pregnant, a mission that your husband took very seriously.

Even as a teenager Wakatoshi’s sex drive wasn’t very high, and his frequent absence and exhaustion in his adult life made it somewhat difficult for you to have sex often. You made up for it where you could, having phone sex and masturbating together over FaceTime, once you convinced him to do it. When he was bewildered as to why you would suggest such a salacious act, you explained you were a grown woman with needs and if he wasn’t there to take care of them, he’d have to help you in other ways. Once he realized how serious you were, he agreed. 

But your husband as a young adult and your husband post-retirement are almost two  completely different people in regards to sex. He has seemingly unlimited reserves of stamina, built up over years of rigorous, intense training, and he no longer had an outlet to expend them. So, his new outlet to test his endurance became you and your body.

He began fucking you every chance he got with the vigor and gusto of a hormonal teenager, seeking to make up for lost time. He asked for sex at all hours of the day, waking you up in the middle of the night with the insistent prodding of his arousal and lazily thrusting between your thighs in the early hours of the morning before you had to leave for work. He fucked you in every room in your house and on every surface—on the dining room table, in the shower, on the living room floor, and even on your back patio when you both got a little too drunk on some cheap rose. 

You welcomed Wakatoshi’s insatiable hunger with open arms, unable to resist your strong, ridiculously handsome husband, but that, coupled with his seemingly limitless stamina, spelled trouble for your muscles and pelvis. In the first year after his departure from professional sports you had to call in sick to work seven times, too tired to function, too bruised to look presentable, and too sore to walk to the bathroom. At first he felt guilty for fucking you out of commission, but the way you begged him so sweetly to pound your needy, gushing cunt deeper, harder, faster and how you whimpered with delight when he bit bruises down your throat, he didn’t feel that bad. A baser, more primal part of Wakatoshi’s brain purred at his marks covering our body and relished in the way you limped. You were just too tempting, too irresistible not to ravage you every chance he got.

After you agreed to start trying for a baby, your partner’s already voracious sexual appetite became downright menacing now that he had a goal to strive for. 

“Gonna breed you, gonna fill you so full with my cum and knock you up,” he grunted as he battered into your sore, dripping hole, your body folded in half in a mating press.

“P-please Toshi! Ah~ please,” you babbled, nonsensical and uncertain what you were even asking for. He had been fucking you for so long everything was muddled into a singular dreamy, intangible haze of pleasure and ecstasy. 

Wakatoshi gave your clit a slap, hard enough to make you cry out. “Please what? Please breed you like a bitch in heat? Please stuff you full with my cum?” He leaned down to wrap his fingers around your throat, squeezing with enough force to make your head swim and forcing you to look into his wild olive eyes. “Well, what is it?” he demanded.

“W-want you to b-ah! Want you to breed mee,” you slurred, too drunk on the delicious feeling of his cock dragging against your pulsing walls to form a more coherent sentence.

His thrusts grew sloppy and uncoordinated with his impending orgasm. “G-gonna give you what you want, you cock hungry slut, I’m—” He came with a choked, shuddering groan, his warm cum flooding your awaiting womb.

You were both basking in the afterglow, exhausted and soaked in sweat and your combined fluids, when you noticed the furious blush spreading across your husband’s cheeks. “I apologize for what I said during sex. I… I don’t know what came over me,” he confessed, giving your shoulder a remorseful squeeze.

Giggling, you leaned forward to kiss his cheek. “Don’t be sorry. I really enjoyed it,” you proclaimed, “I love it when you get rough with me.”

Trying to get you pregnant gave your husband a new goal to strive for and he has never been one to do anything with less than his all.

Thanks to your husband’s dedicated efforts, you got pregnant six months after you started trying, to your shared elation and delight. Those two little lines filled you with as much excitement as they made you anxious, but as long as Wakatoshi was by your side, everything would be okay. 

Seeing your little bundle of joy in a 3D ultrasound changed you, changed Wakatoshi forever. Up until then you had only seen him as a colorless little blur on a computer screen, but getting to watch his precious face scrunch and his chubby legs kick reminded you that he was a real living being. The late night sprints to the bathroom, horrible morning sickness, and miserably aching back were all worth it when you were able to hold Hidetoshi for the first time. With his olive eyes, brown hair and chubby cheeks, he was the most beautiful thing you had ever seen and to this day he still is. 

Taking after his father from the start, Hidetoshi was a happy baby that rarely fussed or cried, not that you complained. He slept soundly through most nights, so soundly you slept in a chair by his crib for the first month to periodically check he was still breathing, despite your husband’s insistence the baby would be fine. Your mother-in-law had insisted that you and Wakatoshi would be exhausted for the first several months after the birth. Imagine her surprised when you and Wakatoshi looked just as well-rested as usual, better even, since you no longer had to deal with pregnancy. Many people, relatives and strangers alike, were astounded at how charming and polite your son was, even as a newborn. He was happy to just sit and play with his toys as you had lunch, smiling and waving at everyone who passed by.

A man as attractive as your husband with a boy as sweet as your son meant that, much to your irritation, women were tripping over themselves to flirt with him. To make matters worse, Wakatoshi picked up your son alone most days due to your office job preventing you from leaving early enough to go with him. This meant many of the moms at Hidetoshi’s school thought your husband was single and they weren’t shy in their pursuit.

A crowd of women surrounded Wakatoshi as he waited for school to end so your son would come running out with his arms spread wide, confident his daddy would always catch him. Most of the moms simply stared at your husband with dreamy looks in their eyes, attempting to make small talk with him.

One especially bold mother reached out and stroked his bicep, slightly squeezing to get a feel for his muscles. “My my Ushijima, you’re so handsome and strong,” she purred, batting her eyelashes at him.

“My wife thinks so as well,” he grunted as he gently but firmly removed his arm from her grasp. 

The woman looked as if he had slapped her across the face and cursed her family. “Y-you’re married? But you don’t even have a wedding ring!” she spluttered, “If you have a wife then where is she everyday?” 

“I do have a ring. I just don’t wear it on my finger because I’m afraid of losing it,” he clarified, lightly tugging on the chain around his neck for emphasis, his ring clinking softly against the metal. “I’m happily married to my wife who cannot be here because she is hard at work providing for our family. Do not disrespect my wife or my marriage again or we will have a problem.”

After that the other moms kept their distance, choosing to admire Wakatoshi from afar. It did not, however, stop them from staring with envy on the rare occasion you came with him to pick up your child, glowering at you with an intensity that surely wished you would drop dead. Your husband paid them no mind and neither did you because at the end of the day, you’re the one he chose to marry and have a child with. They can all flirts and look as much as they want, but they’ll never have him like you do.

----

Fast forward to present day, Wakatoshi is seven years into his retirement at the age of thirty-eight and Hidetoshi is now six.

Your husband is an assistant coach part time for the men’s volleyball team at an up and coming university, the rest of his time divided between you and taking care of your son. Hidetoshi just started kindergarten, growing far too fast for your liking. He seems to have gotten a double dose of his father’s genes as he’s already several inches taller than his classmates, though you can tell by the way he smiles and the slope of his nose that he’s yours as well. He’s the perfect combination of both of you—he has Wakatoshi’s tenacity, work ethic, and confidence and your sense of humor, intelligence, and empathy. He continues to amaze you every single day and you nor your husband couldn’t imagine a boy more wonderful than him. 

These days your lives are a lot less busy than they were when your husband was still a pro, but sometimes it doesn’t feel that way. With all the playdates, school functions, and parent-teacher conferences combined with your own job, Wakatoshi’s games, and regular house chores, sometimes it feels like you’re right back where you were ten years ago. This time, however, you have your incredible husband and son helping you and you wouldn’t trade your life for anything, no matter how hectic it may be.

Today is Saturday, it’s the weekend, and you’re only awake because of the bright sunlight that’s streaming through your bedroom window and hitting you directly in the face. You rub the sleep out of your eyes with the back of your hand, yawning loudly as you stretch your tired limbs. As soon as you try to get out of bed Wakatoshi’s arm around your waist tightens, pulling you flush against his solid, muscular chest. 

“Don’t leave. Don’t need to be anywhere,” he mumbles into his pillow, voice even deeper and raspier with sleep. His legs entangle themselves with your own so you’re completely enveloped in the warm, comforting embrace of your husband.

“Need to start getting ready for the party,” you sigh drowsily, but make no efforts to remove yourself from his sleepy but surprisingly strong clutches.

“Not yet,” he says simply, and that’s when you realize when he’s doing. He’s slowly, lazily grinding his morning wood on the soft curve of your ass. You’re a little more awake now.

“Oh I see what this is about,” you chuckle, wiggling yourself against him teasingly. 

He groans quietly under his breath, but you can feel the sound rumble in his chest. “Want you,” he says, still groggy from just barely waking up. His fingers find the hem of your shirt and he slips them underneath it, trailing his digits lightly down your stomach, making you shiver.

“Little man will be up soon,” you halfheartedly protest, but you can feel the warmth pooling between your legs.

“He’s not up yet, we have time.” The movements of his hips become more insistent, more demanding and you have to stifle your mewls behind your hand. Wakatoshi easily maneuvers his hand into the waistband of your panties, making a satisfied hum when he discovers you’re already dripping for him.

You’re still resisting, though it’s weak and feeble. The list of all the preparations you have to make for the barbecue still manage to just barely cut through your sleepy arousal. “We have so much to d—ahh~” You try to sound firm, but it just comes out as a breathy moan when he begins rubbing your swollen clit. 

He uses his other hand to push up your shirt that’s actually his shirt, tracing small circles around your nipples with his rough fingertips. You try to push your hips into his hand in hopes to gain more friction, but his arms keep you locked in place. 

“No need to rush. Let’s just enjoy this,” he insists, but the finger massaging your bud gets faster, knowing just how to make you whine after all the time he’s had to learn your body. He pinches one of your nipples between two fingers and squeezes with just enough force to make you gasp.

His erection has gotten even harder at the sound of your mewls and whimpers, hot and achingly hard against your ass and your cunt clenches in anticipation. Your slick is dripping out of you in thick, syrupy strings that makes your thighs sticky, but you can’t bring yourself to care.

“Please Toshi, need you,” you beg, desperate for your husband to stuff you full just as he’s done so many times before.

Wakatoshi doesn’t respond, opting to push his pants and underwear down to his knees and you almost sigh in relief, just needing to satisfy the desire that’s threatening to burn you from the inside out. You’re so hot you feel like you’re burning and you throw the comforter off of you to try to escape the heat. He removes the hand that was in your panties, instead using it to rub his hard length along your slick folds. You’re keening and so so needy, gasping each time the head catches on the tight ring of muscle around your entrance. 

“You’re so beautiful like this,” he grits out, barely able to control himself.

Your breath is coming in short, uneven pants as you try to sink yourself down onto him. “I love you so much I...”

That’s the moment when he sheaths his entire cock inside you in a singular fluid movement. You let out a strangled moan, relishing in the familiar burning as you stretch to accommodate how thick he is.  Your pussy clamps down on him like a vice, molding perfectly around his length.

“It’s like you were made for me, made to take me,” Wakatoshi growls, sending another wave of arousal rippling through your body. He stays still for a moment, breathing deeply because he doesn’t want to cum and have this end so soon.

He starts moving his hips, thrusting slow and deep to reach the spongy spot inside you that makes you scream. The hand on your breast reaches around to grab your throat, stifling your moans into small, stuttering gasps. You whine each time he shoves himself deep inside you, his cock dragging deliciously against your spongy walls.

You stay like that for a while, bodies joined in the most intimate of ways as Wakatoshi moves his hips in leisurely, unhurried strokes. Your body is hot, sweaty, thrumming with the pleasure that’s so overwhelming all you can focus on is the intoxicating feeling of your husband’s cock deep inside you. The tightening in your core signals your impending orgasm, but each time you get close to the edge, it escapes your grasp over and over again. You need him to pound into you faster, harder. You need more.

“Toshi please, I-I need,” you manage to stammer out, but your words are stolen from your throat as he sharply thrusts as deep as he can, the tip of his cock smashing against your cervix with just the right amount of pressure. 

“Don’t worry. I know just what you need.”

Wakatoshi is fucking you with so much force that your eyes are rolling back in your head, and all you can hear is the wet slapping sound each time he’s sucked back into your wet heat. He’s close, you can tell by the breathy groans he’s making, but so are you. You clench and spasm around him, growing impossibly tighter and bringing both of you closer to climax. His merciless pounding of your insides just gets faster and rougher, and his other hand moves down to rub your clit in tight, fast circles. 

The pleasure that clouds your senses is overwhelming, just dancing on the edge between pleasure and pain and your body can’t take it anymore. Your vision goes white as you cum, cunt clamping down so hard Wakatoshi can barely move. You clamp a hand over your mouth to keep from screaming, your body shaking and trembling as you gush around him. The endless clenching of your muscles practically milks his orgasm out of him, a stifled groan leaving his lips as his thick, hot cum coats your insides. All you can do is moan softly in appreciation, too incoherent to say anything else. 

Your husband presses a kiss to your sweaty neck. “Are you okay?” he asks, taking in the sight of your limp, spent body. 

You haven’t caught your breath yet and your lips won’t form proper words, so you make the only noise you can, “Mmfmm.”

You whine as he slowly pulls out his softening length with an audible pop, sensitive cunt spasming at the slightest stimulation. He untangles himself from you and you want to reach out for him, but you’re too boneless to even attempt to do anything yet.

As Wakatoshi gets out of bed to get a warm washcloth, you hear the familiar sound of little footsteps making their way towards your room and you shoot up in bed, fully alert. You quickly pull the covers over your body, just in time for Hidetoshi to come bounding in.

“G’morning Mama! Where’s Daddy?” he wonders, his little head poking around the corner.

Your husband comes out of the bathroom, now fully dressed and washcloth in hand. “I’m right here, Hidetoshi.” The boy runs straight towards his father who picks him up effortlessly, swinging him around in the air as he squeals with delight. “Did you sleep well?”

Hide bobs his head enthusiastically, “Mhm! I had a dream I was a professional volleyball player just like you.” 

Your loud, exaggerated sigh draws both sets of olive eyes to you, but you train your gaze on your husband. “Have you been putting ideas in his head?”

Wakatoshi shakes his head no, but the child in his arms pipes up first, “Daddy has been showing me videos of his old matches from when he was with the Schwimmy Addles.” Your husband makes a noise of surprise, a guilty look on his face now that he’s been found out.

“You two are going to be my undoing, I swear,” you chuckle as you flop back into the fluffy pillows.

Hide squirms in his father’s arms, reaching out to you, but the man recognizes the warning look in your eyes and tightens his arms around him. “We should let Mama finish waking up first. Why don’t we go downstairs and make breakfast?” he asks, tickling his sides.

The boy shrieks with laughter and wriggles even harder in Wakatoshi’s arms. “F-fine Daddy! Stooop it!” Your husband stops his tickling and hoists your son over his shoulder, gently patting his back.

He passes the washcloth to Hide. “Why don’t you give this to your mama? Then we can go have something to eat.” 

Hide uses his little arms to hold the cloth out to you and you take it from him, nodding with gratitude. “Thank you sweetie, now go with your daddy.”

Your husband starts walking towards the door as a small, chubby hand waves bye to you and you blow kisses to them as they disappear into the hallway.

Using the washcloth, you clean the mess between your legs and muster the monumental effort it takes to get out of bed. You begrudgingly walk over to your dresser to put on clean pajamas and brush your hair so you’re presentable for a meal with your family. The sound of the fire alarm going off has you racing downstairs to the kitchen where Wakatoshi and your son should be.

As you slide into the kitchen and almost fall on the slippery hardwood in your haste, you realize your panic was for nothing. There’s a pan on the stove, grey smoke billowing out of it. Upon further inspection you discern that it’s eggs, you think, that are simultaneously under and overcooked. The guilty parties are sitting at the kitchen table a few feet away, a jug of milk and a couple of boxes of cereal surrounding them. Hide is shoveling spoonfuls of Cheerios into his mouth as your husband eats his own breakfast, only slightly neater in his approach.

“So… you tried to cook?” you ask, quirking an eyebrow at the large man chewing his Wheat Chex. He looks over at you and nods, mouth full with milk and cereal. “I’m guessing it didn’t go very well, judging by all the smoke,” you say slowly. Your husband simply shakes his head no, unbothered by the fact that he nearly gave you a heart attack.

Deciding it’s not worth the argument or the work to make a proper breakfast, you sit down next to Hide and pour yourself a bowl of Cheerios. He smiles at you, mouth open and full of disgusting half-chewed food, but you still return his beaming grin and ruffle his hair. The both of them are troublemakers in their own ways, but they’re your troublemakers nonetheless.

After you’ve all eaten breakfast, you lay a notepad in front of them that has a list of all the things you have to do before your guests arrive for the barbecue. 

You’re standing between them, pointing at each task on the list. “I still have to sweep and vacuum the house, Toshi you need to go to the store and buy all the food, and Hide you need to pick up all your toys that are in the backyard. We have a lot to do today and everyone has to do their part, okay?” you urge, looking between the males on either side of you and they both nod emphatically.

With everyone so busy, it’s difficult to find weekends where they’re all available so this get together has been planned for months. You’ll all be seeing friends and loved ones you haven’t seen in a long time, and it’s a team effort to make sure everything is ready for tonight. 

----

You finish all of the tasks on time, with an hour to spare thanks to your joint efforts. 

Hide is playing in his room while you and your husband get dressed and ready for what will likely be a long night of socializing and entertaining.

As you’re doing your makeup and getting ready for the party, you notice Wakatoshi staring at himself in the mirror, shirtless. His brows are furrowed, a deep frown on his face as he scrutinizes his reflection. He pinches his belly with both hands, scowling at the softness that used to be hard muscle. Tracing a finger along the stretch marks on his stomach and arms, he sighs heavily.

“Babe, what’s wrong?” you ask from the bathroom. 

Your husband walks over to lean against the wall behind you, his unreadable expression reflected in the bathroom mirror. He hesitates before answering, “I’ve let myself go.”

You set your mascara down on the counter and spin around to face him. “Wakatoshi, what in the world are you talking about?”

“I just said what. I heard a couple of my players say that I’m not as strong or as fast as I was when I was a professional.”

You loosely wrap your arms around his torso, squeezing gently. “Of course you’re not what you used to be, Toshi.” At the sight of his deepening frown you quickly add, “You’re so busy being a father, husband, and coach you don’t have the time to work out like you used to.” Getting on your tippy toes, you press a kiss to his nose, “And that’s okay.” It’s a rare occasion that he looks this vulnerable. His anxiety and self-consciousness are so clearly written in his features and it makes your heart ache for him. 

“It doesn’t bother you that I don’t look like that anymore?” he asks, pointing at the framed photo of his first win with the Japan National Team that hangs on the wall.

“Why would it bother me? This is the body races my son across our backyard, helps me fix our home we bought together, and makes love to me every night. I love you just as much as I did back then, and even more now that we have Hide,” you reassure him and you mean every word of it. Sure he’s not the most romantic of husbands, but he’s your husband and you love him just the way he is, with or without muscles.

A smile tugs at the corners of his lips and he squeezes you even tighter to him. “I know I probably don’t say this as much as I should, but I love you.”

You pepper kisses all over his eyelids, lips and nose. “And I love you more than anything, Wakatoshi. More than you will ever know.”

Your hands lovingly caress his chest that’s softer now, but still sturdy and muscular, and his arms that are not as lean anymore, but are still just as powerful and capable. “For the record, I love how soft you are these days. It’s great cushioning for when we cuddle.”

“Hidetoshi says the same thing,” he recalls, smiling at the thought of your beloved son.

After giving him a knowing look, you go back to putting on your makeup. “See? I told you. That boy is just as smart as his mother.”

It’s nearing five o’clock so Wakatoshi goes to the backyard to start grilling the food for everyone, while you and Hide finish plating the fruits and vegetables you prepared earlier.

You work in comfortable silence until your son turns to you, his eyes shining with unanswered questions. “Hey Mama?”

Putting down the strawberry you were holding, you sit down on the stool next to him and hold his hands in yours. “What’s on your mind, sweetie?”

“Do you not want me to be a volleyball player like Daddy? Is that why you got mad when I told you he showed me the videos?” 

You almost break your neck with how fast you shake your head in denial. “Of course not! I wasn’t mad, it’s just…” you start, trying to find a way to phrase your thoughts that he’ll understand. “Daddy’s job was very hard. His body still hurts a lot from all the times he got injured when he played volleyball. And… his job took him away from me and I missed him a whole lot.”

The look on his face is so reminiscent of his father, it’s like young Wakatoshi was frozen in time and plopped into the chair right next to you. With the way his eyebrows are scrunched up and his mouth is downturned as he thinks, he really is the spitting image of your husband. “Did it make you sad?”

Taking a deep breath, you hold your arms out to him so he can climb into your lap. “Sometimes it did. Mostly at night when I was all alone and Daddy was really far away.”

He rests his head against your shoulder, looking up at you. “Do you wish Daddy had a different job?”

You look out the window at your husband who’s starting up the grill, then look back at the sweet, round face of your boy. “No, I don’t. Daddy’s job was really important to him and it made him so happy that I grew to love it too, even if it made me sad sometimes.”

He sits up in your lap, thinking hard about what you said as he plays with your necklace. “Does Daddy still wish he could do it?”

“Probably, but it’s okay. If he hadn’t stopped, we wouldn’t have you, and you make our lives so much brighter and happier. Your Daddy and I love you so much, you couldn’t even imagine it.”

He spreads his arms out as far as he can. “This much?”

You shake your head. “Nope. Even more.”

“Wow, that’s a lot.” Hide’s eyes are wide with surprise, mouth slightly agape as he tries to imagine something so large and vast.

Laughing, you press a kiss to his head. “It sure is a lot, baby. Now why don’t we finish putting out all the food so we can go see what Daddy’s doing?”

Your son leaps out of your lap to grab handfuls of grapes and blueberries from the cartons on the counter, dropping them into the divided sections of the serving platter. “Aren’t you going to help me, Mama?”

You give him a look of mock offense before standing ramrod straight, giving him a mock salute. “As you command, Commander Ushijima.”

You carry both trays of food out to the backyard, not trusting Hide’s ability to hold them upright, while he carries a volleyball in his arms. Wakatoshi turns at the sound of footsteps, a small smile on his face as your son drops the volleyball, barreling straight into his legs with a force that makes the man grunt.

Hide looks up at his father, both arms wrapped around his legs. “Whatcha doing Daddy?” he asks.

Your husband reaches a hand down to ruffle his hair, a slight look of pain in his eyes from the boy slamming into his shins. “I’m just getting ready to start cooking the food for tonight. Do you want to help me?” He bends down to pick him up and Hide quickly hops into his arms, well practiced and effortless with how strong your husband is. The man points to different parts of the grill, explaining what they do, taking care to keep the boy far away from the flames. 

Setting the plates down on the table, you inform Wakatoshi, “Hajime and Tooru should be here soon, so should Tobio and Eita. Satori called and said he might be late, something about his luggage getting lost.” At that moment the doorbell rings, signaling your first guests are here. “I’ll get it. You two stay here and get the food on the grill.”

You open the front door, greeted with the familiar faces of Hajime and Tooru. “It’s so nice to see you two! Come on inside, don’t be shy,” stepping aside, you hold your arm out to welcome them into your home. 

“Mrs. Ushijima you get more and more beautiful each time I see you,” Tooru teases as you snicker in response.

“I see marriage hasn’t changed you at all, has it?” you question, more so directed at Hajime. 

“I tell him people are going to get the wrong idea,” the shorter man replies, sounding exasperated.

You usher them towards the backyard before picking up various soda and beer cans. “Wakatoshi and Hide are both in the back. You two go ahead and keep them company while I bring these out.”

It takes a few trips before you join them in the backyard, handing each adult a can and a juice pouch to Hide, who’s sitting at the picnic table with Tooru while Hajime chats with your husband. 

“How old are you now, little man?” the brunette asks.

Hide holds up five fingers plus his thumb as he swings his legs back and forth. “I’m six! I just started kindergarten.”

They both wave at you as you join them, sitting on the other side of the table. Tooru leans in towards you, a hand cupped around his mouth, and you tilt your ear towards him. “He’s so… polite and well-mannered. Are you sure Ushiwaka is the father?” he whispers, narrowing his eyes.

You lightly smack his head, glaring daggers in his direction. “Yes, obviously. Look at them, they’re basically twins.” Tooru looks at the boy sitting next to him then at your husband standing at the grill, then back to your son, then back to your husband. Hand on his chin, he takes in their matching olive eyes and hair and similar expressions, nodding seriously.

“I was just making sure.”

The doorbell rings a couple more times, Tobio and Eita arriving one right after the other. With almost all of your guests present, everyone is drinking and catching up, some casually passing a volleyball back and forth with Hide.

You’re in the middle of telling Tobio that Hidetoshi is too young to be thinking about his future career when the doorbell rings once more, indicating the last of your guests has arrived. You rush inside to get it, not bothering to check who’s there because you already know who it is. Swinging the door open, you pull the man into a tight hug. 

“Satori! We’re so glad you made it,” you exclaim, giving his back a few hard slaps.

The redhead pulls away from you, smiling. “I’m so glad I was able to make it in time. The airport lost my luggage, then my parents forgot to leave me a key to their house so I had to wait until a neighbor could let me in. To make matters worse, I got stopped by security when I landed because of this,” he says, holding up a white box with a bow around it.

You quickly grab the box, shaking it to try to hear what’s inside and sniffing it for good measure. “Ooh la la, did you bring us some fancy French chocolates?” you ask. “Actually, don’t tell me, Hide will want to open it.” You hand the box back to him and gesture him to follow you, “Everyone’s in the back so just follow me.”

With Satori in tow, you step onto the back porch and call your son’s name. He hands the ball to Eita before running over, eyes lighting up when he sees the man standing next to you.

“Uncle Tori!” he shouts, launching himself into Satori’s arms.

“Hey there Little Toshi, how you been? Keeping your dad out of trouble?” he asks, hugging the boy tightly.

“I think so! Well… we burnt some eggs this morning and the smoke machines started beeping, but that doesn’t count, right?”

The red-haired man waves his hand dismissively. “Of course it doesn’t. Any crimes committed in the name of breakfast are excused,” he insists. Pulling the box out from behind his back, he offers it to Hide. “I brought you something all the way from France, do you know where France is?”

Hide takes the present from him, “Yeah, it’s in Europe! Daddy showed it to me on a map.” He struggles a bit with the bow before he decides to just rip it off, lifting up the lid.

Satori points to the various chocolates laid on top of wax paper. “This one is filled with something called ‘ganache,’ which is basically just more chocolate, but it’s liquidy. That one over there has caramel, and the one right next to it is a bonbon filled with strawberry jelly. I picked all the best ones just for you.”

The boy smiles, eyes wandering over the chocolates like they’re bars of gold. “Thank you Uncle Tori! I bet they’re really yummy.”

He pats Hide on the head. “I hope you enjoy them lots. Now I gotta go say hi to your daddy, where is he?” Your son points to where Wakatoshi is standing at the grill, a spatula in one hand and a beer in the other as he chats with Tobio. “Thanks Little Toshi,” he says, ruffling his hair.

Satori walks over to your husband, pulling him into a crushing bear hug before he can say anything. “Wakatoshi, it’s been too long! I sure get lonely all the way in France, have you guys ever thought about moving?”

Wakatoshi freezes for a moment before giving in, hugging the man back, though slightly stiff in his movements. “We will not be moving to France. Hidetoshi will be raised here in Japan.”

The redhead releases him, sensing his discomfort. “Well, it was worth a shot. How’s your retirement? You miss being a pro?”

“I do miss it sometimes, but it was necessary to let a better, younger player take my place. I wouldn’t trade a few more years on the court for the life I have now with my wife and my son.” 

 Satori lets out a loud whistle. “I never thought I would hear the day that Wakatoshi Ushijima would say he cares about anything more than volleyball.”

“Volleyball was my entire life before, but they’re my entire world.”

The shorter man just smiles, silent for a moment before pointing to the apron your husband is wearing. “I didn’t think you’d actually wear that thing, Wakatoshi!” The apron black with bright red lettering that says ‘Wakatoshi: Grill Master,’ with a drawing of a flaming steak next to it.

“It keeps my clothes clean. Why wouldn’t I wear it?” he asks, genuinely curious. The redhead just laughs and shakes his head, patting him on the shoulder.

Your husband finishes grilling the food, much to the excitement and relief of the many hungry men who have been circling him like a hawk. Everyone takes from the piles of meat and vegetables, noticeably happier now that their stomachs are full. You’re all sitting around the picnic table, laughing and enjoying each other’s company.

Hajime recalls a story from when he first signed on as the athletic trainer for the national team. Wakatoshi had approached him after practice, saying he had a serious issue that he wanted someone to take a look at. Concerned for his player’s wellbeing, naturally he took him into the locker room and Wakatoshi took off his shirt. At first, he thought he might’ve stretched one of his ligaments too far or had even torn his rotator cuff muscle. Imagine his surprise when Wakatoshi pointed to an ingrown hair on his back, saying it was inflamed and causing him pain. It was then that Hajime had to explain that he’s not that type of medical professional, and that he should make an appointment with a dermatologist.

 The sun starts to set, but with the fun everyone is having they barely notice. The night begins to wind down once Hide yawns, rubbing his eyes tiredly, and it sets off a chain reaction of yawning that reaches every person at the table. Your son starts tugging on your sleeve, informing you he’d like to go to bed. Not wanting to leave him alone in the house and taking note of the exhaustion on everyone’s faces, you politely suggest to end the night early. A chorus of heads bob, indicating their desire to head home and sleep. 

All three of you hug and kiss everyone goodbye, waving to them as they drive away. You sigh from exhaustion and head inside to put Hide in bed. You and your husband hold each of his hands and take him to his room, pulling back his covers so he can climb in. 

He yawns again and closes his eyes, settling into his bed. “Night night Mama, Daddy. I love you.” 

You stroke his cheek lovingly before placing a kiss on his forehead. “Goodnight sweetie, I love you too.”

Your husband comes up from behind you to kiss Hide as well. “Sleep well, Hidetoshi. I love you.”

With your son asleep in his own bed, all you have to do is take off your makeup and brush your teeth before you too can sleep. 

You’re in the middle of washing your face when Wakatoshi comes into the bathroom to brush his teeth.

“I enjoyed tonight, I hope you did too,” he says.

You turn around to look at him and smile. “I did, it was amazing to see everyone in one place. It’s been years since we were all able to see each other.” After you finish washing your face, you stretch and yawn loudly, telling your husband, “I’m getting in bed now, join me when you’re done.”

Climbing under the sheets, you nestle yourself into the softness of your bed. You nearly doze off right then, but the shifting of the bed under Wakatoshi’s weight keeps you awake just a bit longer.

He slides in behind you so he can spoon you, an arm slung over your waist. 

“Goodnight Toshi, I love you.”

“Goodnight, I love you too.”

Before he falls asleep, Wakatoshi thinks of all the things in his life that led him here, to you, his wonderful wife, and his precious son.

Leaving professional volleyball was one of the hardest decisions he’s ever had to make in his thirty-seven years of living, but the end of that chapter of his life gave him Hidetoshi.

He knows that every moment of uncertainty, suffering, and hardship was worth it because it ultimately led him to you and your son, to this life you’ve built together. 

He’d do it all over again a thousand times over if it meant that your beautiful, shining face would be there to greet him in the end.

[17caratssi]

Wonwoo! Will you stay

Jeon Wonwoo! A short series pt one | two | three | four Being rejected for the first time doesn't put you off. In fact, your interest in him grows bigger.

You don't remember what happens after you blurt that offering out to Wonwoo. But for sure, Wonwoo rejects you on the spot.

"If you think I was joking, nope. I was serious and it's probably the most serious question I've ever asked in my life,"

"Yeah, sure. The answer is still no. Let me tell you something,"

Your eyes sparkle with hope. Is he going to say that he's not ready yet, and if I work harder, maybe he'll reconsider?

Wonwoo thought he would never have to tell anyone this, but this may be the best.

"I give no shit about anything and being here in this school just makes me sick. I want to quickly graduate so that I can die in peace,"

"And also, I have no plan to be nice to girls who approach me." he finishes what he wanted to say. It sounds cruel, and even some of it isn't what he intended to say, but he just wants to put an end to her.

If she's smart, she would be clear of it.

But you don't care the things Wonwoo spouts. You like him, and your eyes are on him.

"Okay then! I'll try my hardest to charm you," you squeeze your hand in determination. You don't waver from his intense stare and add, "You know, this is my first time confessing to a guy and this is also my first time getting rejected but I'm pretty sure I can make you my boyfriend. I can wait, yes. Even it takes me 10 years, as long as I like you, I will pursue!"

Wonwoo shrugs and turns away. He's not certain of you, and your word kind of stir him a little. In 18 years of life, you are the first person to talk to him in this way and disregard whatever he said.

Since young, Wonwoo limits himself to talking. He pays a lot of attention to his words to avoid unnecessary emotions. However, today, he finally meets his contender.

"My warning remains valid,"

"Alright!"

After school, Wonwoo packs his bag and leaves the class immediately.

Wonwoo has to do part-time for his family. Initially, he wanted to turn down the scholarship, but his mother secretly accepted the offer. All she wants for Wonwoo to continue school and not bury his youth with responsibilities.

With the other five siblings, he couldn't possibly let his old mother do all the work. Therefore, he applies for the empty cashier position nearby his rented house just three kilometres from the school. His part-time job requires him to arrive fast, and since he hasn't gotten his bicycle, Wonwoo has to run to the convenience store.

You followed him from behind, but he is sure fast! You panted all the way to the elevator as you watch him uses the stairs and speeds away.

"Y/N!" Yuran, your childhood best friend, calls your name.

Yuran is the one that introduces you to this school when she was informed that you will return to Korea. She is a year older, and she treats you like a sister since you are the only child. You always love to be around here, and now that you two are in the same school, you will have a friend to rely on.

You wave at her as she jogs toward you.

"How's the first day?"

You contemplate. You are not familiar with Korea, and it seems the people here are so different to Americans. You scratch your head.

"So far, good." You opt for a lie and only remember about Wonwoo. "Oh! My seatmate is handsome," you brag.

"That's all you can think of?" She nudges your arm lightly.

Frankly, 80% of the time, you just admire him.

You realize that his side profile is wonderfully sculpted; the sharp jawline and the distance between his forehead and eyebrows are just right.

You are going to appreciate this beautiful human being while you are alive.

"Yuran-eonnie, come to my house this Saturday," you link your arm around Yuran's, and in an excited voice, you add, "My family is hosting a house-warming party. It's not grand so we invite only close friends. Therefore, you must come!"

Yuran giggles and pat your arm.

"Of course I would come! I miss your mom a lot. Will she cook?"

"HAHA! My dad won't let her cook anymore so we might as well order for the food,"

"Ugh, your dad is still so overprotective. Their love never dies, huh?"

You sigh at the thought of your parents' affection. It's admirable but tiring for me. It's like they feed me dog food every day!"

The two of you burst out laughing. The chat goes on until you come to the gate. Yuran left first, and you wait for your dad to pick you up.

"How's school?"

You beam at your dad and answer truthfully. "Great! I might get a boyfriend soon, though- Why are you laughing?" you whine.

"Nothing, I just hope to meet my son-in-law. I can't wait to lecture him,"

"Dad!!?"

"What? I must tell him that my daughter is the most precious human being and he is obligated to love you for the rest of his life if he wants to marry you!"

"Like how you love mom?"

"Yeah, of course. He better be overflowing with love for you or else,"

You smile. Your dad is always overreacting when it comes to this topic. He has very high expectations of the boys you mention to him, and it scares you since Wonwoo doesn't reciprocate your feeling just yet.

As the car passes the buildings, you recognize Wonwoo, who's running to his destination. You grin and pull your dad's hand.

"Dad, please stop the car!"

The tires screech to halt, and in a blink, you already come out of the car and reach Wonwoo. He pants and is in confusion as to how you manage to chase him. Then, he realizes.

"What do you want?"

You scan him and wipe the beads of perspiration on his face. You flash a happy smile before saying.

"Where's your driver?"

Wonwoo, for a second, almost couldn't identify the person. He is baffled. "W-what?"

"Oh! Jump in, I'll send you home,"

Wonwoo is taken aback. What do you mean by 'Where's your car?' but before he gets to ask you, he's being pulled by force. Plunge into the backseat, Wonwoo's awareness heightens in the presence of someone in the driver seat.

"Where are you going? My dad can drive you there,"

In fact, you're the only person in the car that's jubilant. Your dad is sceptical to Wonwoo, and the same goes for the latter.

"I can walk,"

You quickly stop him from opening the door. "Dad, we can send him to his place, right?"

Your dad looks at the rear-view mirror and hesitates. He eventually gives in and replies.

"Yes, dear," his sight swifts to Wonwoo. "Boy, tell me where you're going?"

Wonwoo grunts lowly and tells the two the direction. Since he isn't going back home and doesn't want anyone to know he's working part-time, he lies.

You keep talking to Wonwoo despite getting no answer. He closes his eyes and clears his mind.

Once arrive, you follow him out.

"I'll excuse you this time because your father is watching. I won't tolerate your behaviour next time!"

The atmosphere at that moment is calm and clear. Though cars are passing by, they make no sound. Hence, you can definitely understand what he meant.

"Don't go running about in the noon, you'll get sick! See you tomorrow at school!"

As a girl, you totally get the meaning of Wonwoo's words. He cuts through your heart with his harsh warning, and you endure it.

Maybe this is my karma since I always leave the people around me. These few foul words from the person I like aren't that bad. I'm willing to be on the receiving end.

You enter the car with your lips stretch to your ears. To avoid getting questioned by your father of Wonwoo's identity, you avert the attention.

"Dad, thank you for taking me in,"

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

I've created a schedule for this series- every Wednesday and Saturday, but it also depends on the chapter availability. Since I'm on my semester break, I have more time to write it unless I have writer's block. I accept requests for drabbles, one shot and anything you want me to write ;)

If you like this story, you might as well check out the others here !

[kinsurou]

Forgive me Lord, for I have sinned

Pairings: Dabi x Reader

Word count: 6.8k

Warnings: Smut, Incubus!Dabi, cunnilingus, unprotected sex, slight hypnosis, horror elements, sex in a church.

Ever since you were a child, something about that church always got under your skin. Being inside that old building always left a fallacious sentiment. No matter the days, months, or years that were spent performing church service with your whole family.

Every time your younger self would attempt saying something about it to an adult, they would always brush off the child pulling on the ends of their shirt with trembling hands and wobbly pouts.

In the eyes of the adults, you were just a child with plenty of imagination.

And your nana's words never helped either.

For "Nothing bad can ever linger in the house of God." 

That was back when you were 18. It was the last time you mentioned anything about that eerie feeling. As well as the last time you stepped inside that church, much to your parent's disappointment.

Now...Five years later, you faced the same house where you grew up, while carrying a suitcase in hand. And a huge, resentful scowl twisting your sceptical face. 

Your parents had begged you to come home for the holidays. The same parents who didn't hesitate when they turned their backs on their daughter, after she tore the rosary off her neck.

Had it not been for your nana's decaying health, you would have never come back in the first place. But the elder woman could leave this world any moment now, and she begged to see her granddaughter one more time.

Having dinner with a bunch of people who did nothing but judge your every move was detestable. From your clothes, to your hair, to your studies, everything seemed wrong in their judgemental, hypocrite eyes. It became downright awkward, when you did not keep your thoughts to yourself.

No longer were you the little girl they could carelessly brush off. But that didn't mean you were the golden child either. And frankly, you wouldn't have it any other way.

The only thing you wish could actually change, were the everlasting tremors you felt each time you passed by that old church. Three blocks away from your parent's home. The same church you could watch every single night, through the window of your childhood room.

Just gazing at that building was enough to feel those tremors all over again. You thought the feeling would disappear as you grew older. That maybe, just maybe, your family's words were true.

If only they knew how wrong they truly were...

That night, as you laid in bed, something bizarre happened. You were used to fall asleep at midnight, allowing the soothing melody of the crickets to lure you into a peaceful slumber.But this specific night, something was off. You had fallen asleep at the same time as always, but not to the regular, dreamless night.

But to someone calling out for you. A deep, raspy voice, kept calling your name, and although unable to comprehend the language, somehow, you could understand what it wanted.

Come to me...

The instant your eyes stirred open, a thick and heavy fog made its way deep inside your head, clouding each and every of your thoughts. Except for that urge to follow the voice.

With stupor glazed eyes and a mindless stare, you peeled the blankets off your body and rose up from the bed. No one noticed you walking to the front door, for they were all resting deeply. 

Hurry...

The front door was easily opened. This neighborhood was one of the quietest and safest places around, so the need to lock the house at night was unnecessary.

Each step led you down a certain path. You were uncertain where, but that voice most certainly did, as it guided you through the dark and empty streets without much of a struggle.

Had anyone seen you outside this late at night, with an empty look in those usually bright eyes, they would have thought you were just sleepwalking and ended up outside.

Not even the aching in your feet, from stepping over sticks and stones was enough to wake you up. Whatever hold that voice had in your mind was stronger than the feeling of stone digging under your bare feet.

You couldn't even tell how much time had passed, but eventually you reached the place where this voice kept dragging you to. Away from the comfort of you plush, albeit small bed.

An old door with elegant, yet subtle carvings all over its surface, currently blocked the path that lead towards the alluring hum, demanding your presence. 

With the strength of your whole body, the door opened effortlessly, allowing you to step inside. 

Come.

The moment you stumbled inside, the voice calling out, had a drastic change. The most prominent of them all, was the clarity behind each and every word. 

This time, you were able to understand it all.

Come closer, little one...

Once again, your legs moved on their own. Following after the strong, magnetic like feeling that kept on pulling you forwards, like a moth entranced by a radiant flame. 

Something changed through your surroundings in an instant. The door slammed itself closed with a tremendous force, rattling the whole building with overwhelming magnitude. 

You didn't know what did it, but that chain of events created an uproar, startling you out of that trance, and immediately dissipated the foggy sensation deeply fixated inside your head. 

And once your head became clear, nothing but worry began swirling inside your head, accompanied by that very same quivers that went down your spine ever since you turned 18.

Because, you were standing right in front of an all too familiar altar, one inside the very same church that you've come to despise over the years.

Worry began brewing inside you at an exorbitant rate. That horrible sensation of something dark and hostile lurking around the corridors began increasing by the second. Bile threatening to crawl its way up your throat the more you stayed in place. 

You had to leave this place, now.

Or at least that was the idea, but no matter how much you tried to open those vast doors trapping you inside, neither of them budged in the slightest. How in the world did they get locked in the first place? The priest had always made it clear that the church's doors should always remain open.

This wasn't normal, at all.

Neither this, or the sudden heath drapped over your back that sent chills down your body, could be considered normal.

"Took you long enough."

The same deep, raspy voice from before, was coming from behind, Sending chill through your body. There was no doubt in your head, that whoever kept calling out for you, and the person standing behind you, were one and the same individual.

"Why don't you turn around, so I can finally see that pretty face of yours?"

A slim hand made its way up your shoulder. Long, sharp claws toyed around with the thin strap of your tank top, making their way under the thin fabric to drag themselves over the soft skin of your shoulder. 

Even if you wanted to follow said command, it was nearly impossible to do so when your whole body was frozen in fright. 

Carefully, your head turned to the side, just enough to take a small glimpse of this...man? Slowly, your body turned around, and you finally saw the one responsible of bringing you here.

A man stood before you, or at least, you thought he was a human male at first. Had it not been for the long pair of horns on his head, slightly angled down before circling all the way to the back of his skull.

That was just one of the few things about him that caught your eye. 

The second thing, was that despite the cold, harsh breeze inside the building, his chest was bare from any clothing, and the only thing that covered this man's psyche was a pair of black, leather pants. 

Even his feet were bare, which by the way, also presented the same sharp, black claws as the ones on his hands.

But if that wasn't enough, the last thing you noticed was his scars.

Nearly his whole body was covered with charred skin, holding on to his body by the metallic stitches that retained everything together. A knot could be felt in your stomach when you saw his face. 

Those very same scars and stitches, were also over the lower half of his face, and right under his eyes as well. That mesmerizing pair of teal colored eyes of his, that you could almost swear glowed in the dark, calling out for your soul.

He slowly advanced towards you with a long stride, but for every step he took forward, you took one backwards, trying to maintain as much distance between you and him as possible. 

Or at least, that was the idea. 

Which came crashing down when you felt that cursed door stopping you from going anywhere. He just smirked lazily when he saw the fear inside your eyes, as you turned to glare nervously at the dreaded piece of wood.

"Going somewhere, little one?" One of his hands came up to play with a lock of your hair. When his knuckles brushed against your cheek, some kind of energy racked your head momentarily. It was like an electric shock that sent your brain into a haze. Almost like an instinct, your head tried leaning towards his hand, yearning for more that feeling.

He took a sharp breath and closed his eyes. Judging by his behaviour, he felt something similar. And when he opened them again, you could have sworn his pupils had turned into slits. 

"Who would have thought, that after all this time," His eyes wandered all over your body. "You would be coming back? Must be my lucky day." 

The same fog that dragged you all the way here came back with force, slowly clouding all of your thoughts like it did before.

It wasn't until he leaned towards your much smaller frame, that you were able to snap out of it. Especially when you felt his breathing ghost over your neck. Blissfully inhaling your scent.

His hum of approval was all the answer you received. But his words were what made you feel real panic.

"You smell so good, so much different from other humans." One of his hands rested on your hip, just above the fabric covering your body. "You'll be a perfect vessel." 

...Vessel...? 

He pushed himself closer, trapping you against the door. And started kissing softly at the skin all over the side of your neck, before leaving a trail down your collarbone, causing another surge of electricity to rattle your body from head to toe.

The feeling of sharp fangs grazing your skin startled you. Frantically, your eyes went all over the place, eventually landing back on the man...no, on the creature in front of you, purring, nipping and peppering your chest with his lips.

That same feeling of dread triggered your fight or flight instincts. And with shaky arms you mustered as much of your strength, pushing the demon away with a shriek. And before he had a chance to lay his hands on you one more time, you had already escaped from him. 

Even he was caught off guard by the push, staggering back with surprised eyes, that slowly became darker. Like those of a starved animal, ready to pounce on his next meal.

In the meantime, you had escaped towards the back of the church. Running away and hoping to find another way out of this damned place.

"I always knew there was something wrong about this place! But did anyone ever listen?! Noooo!" Even as a mere whisper, your voice echoed through the halls. You had to cover your mouth in order to hold back a yelp, when something was violently slammed against the walls. 

Tears began filling your eyes as soon as you heard an approaching pair of footsteps. His voice kept getting louder the closer he got.

"Thought I scared you off for good. But you're a big girl now, aren't you?!"

He shouted bitterly, footsteps becoming erratic.  

Somehow you managed to avoid him, and ran all the way back to one of the utility closets at the back of the halls. Carefully, you opened the first door that came into view and hid inside the small space. 

Hiding between cleaning supplies was never a good idea, but you had no other choice, unless allowing this thing to slaughter you was one of them.

Teardrops became dangerously close to spill when you heard his voice getting closer. The louder his footsteps became, the longer you tried to hold in your breath from the absolute terror you felt.

"I've been watching you for a long time, y'know?" His voice was different this time, calmer, confident, but his frustration was still evident. "Ever since you turned into a grown woman. I could tell there was something different about you!" 

Something was once again thrown into a wall, a loud crack could be heard from the wood of whatever he had thrown this time.

"And when you took off that fucking rosary?! I could feel it, I just knew you had something special!" 

His footsteps became louder, a warning of just how close he came to your hiding spot. You've never felt this terrified in your life, watching his shadow become bigger the closer he got...But then, he just walked past the door, without even bothering to look back.

When he walked around the corner, you opened the door with care, afraid that the slightest of creaks could alert him of your presence.

And then, you dashed back towards the main entrance.

The fear rushing through your veins kept pushing you, telling you to hurry up and get out of this place. And as soon as you were out of this building you would go to your parent's house to take your stuff and never come back again. All those years you were right, but nobody bothered to listen. 

Much to your dismay, the main doors didn't budge in the slightest. Out of frustration, your fist slammed against the wood, the sound echoed loudly all around the place. And your blood went cold when you heard him approaching. 

Hiding in the same place as before was not an option, and in a desperate measure, you ran toward the altar at the front, pulling the cloth and crouching down to hide underneath. 

It was such a small spot, that you had to pull your knees close to your chest in order to fit in. Your whole body trembled with fear. More so when his presence could be felt as soon as he came into the main halls.

"Where are you, little one? I promise you won't get hurt." The tone of his voice was not reassuring.

You may have turned your back on the church all those years ago. But in that moment, you couldn't help praying to God for your safety. So with your eyes closed and hands intertwined together. You began chanting the very same prayer, strictly inculcated in your family for generations.

Our Father, 

Who art in heavan,

Hallowed be thy name.

Thy kingdom come, 

Thy will be done on earth 

as it is in Heavan

Give us this day our daily bread,

And forgive our trespasses

as we forgive those 

Who trespass against us.

And lead us not into temptation,

But deliver us from evil.

"Amen/Amen."

Your whole body broke into a cold swear. And when you felt a cold breeze brush against your trembling body, the thought of opening your eyes made your heart pound harshly against your ribcage, so harshly, it could be heard resonating through the small space you were currently hiding in.

Slowly, slowly turning sideways. The sight in front of you drew out a blood curling scream. The pristine cloth of the altar had been pulled to the side.

And he was crouching down in front of you, with a deep, desperate hunger in those feral eyes of his, completely engulfed into nothing but pitch-black. The feral grin on his face sealing your fate in an instant.

"God can't help you now."

You were dragged out from under the altar by the ankle. Struggling, kicking, and begging for him to release you, but each and every word fell on deaf, pointed ears as his body hovered above yours, trapping you between the carpeted floor and his lean body.

Upon closer inspection, it was clear something was wrong with him. The patches of non-burned skin looked sickly pale, like he hadn't been able to eat, or sleep for a long time...Were demons able of sleep in the first place?

"Please...Don't hurt me..." He ignored your pleading whimpers, observing with half-closed eyes as you became closer to burst into tears. The moment the small, salty droplets ran down the corners of your eyes, he leaned down, and kissed them away with a softness that left you paralyzed.

No longer was he behaving as the same creature slamming pews against the walls in a fit of rage. It was almost like a switch had been flipped, and somebody completely different had taken his place.

"You really think, that I'd do something to hurt my precious vessel?" His palm caressed the side of your face. The touch of his skin was electrifying against your own, sending goosebumps through your whole body.

"I'm not going to hurt you, so just relax your pretty little body, and allow your master to take care of you."

He leaned down once again, this time whispering in your ear with that mesmerizing voice of his.

"The name's Dabi, you better remember that name when it's time to worship you master's cock." He growled eagerly into your ear. 

All those year he could only watch from afar. Now that you were back, Dabi finally had you right where he wanted you. 

He would not let this chance go to waste.

Once again, Dabi started out by kissing your neck, and he had to admit, those gasps were like heavenly music to his ears, as ironic as it sounded.

His black claws started to become longer, and sharper. They made quick work of your shirt, dragging themselves all over the fabric and tearing the thin cotton tank top to nothing but shreds, causing the cold air inside the church to hit your nipples with full force. Even during the hottest time of the year, the inside of the building always felt cold.  

Dabi ignored your shivering. Kissing and nipping all the way down from your neck, to the skin of your chest, leaving a small trail of bites on his path. His lips reached down the plush skin of your belly. The cold inside the building could barely be felt from the warmth he made you feel.

Panic overtook your senses when his hands went to the hem of your shorts, finger hooking into the fabric as he attempted to pull them down. 

"W-Wait!" You yelled out with hesitation, afraid that your words could end up with a raging demon bringing your demise. But it would probably be worse if he found out on his own, right?

"I'm not...I'm not a virgin!" He stopped immediately, and for a minute you saw your life pass before your eyes. 

A low, sarcastic laughter was the only thing he answered with. When you looked at him, Dabi's shoulders were shaking, and he couldn't stop laughing.

"You think that's the only thing demons care about?" You gasped once again, when the remains of your clothes were suddenly torn to shred for the second time, leaving you completely bare to the creature kneeling before you, who took in the sight of your every curve with a famished glint in his eyes.

"Virgins are overrated. Innocence? Purity? Tch." He scoffed in mockery. "Wanna know a secret, little one? Sometimes, the people who claim to be the purest, are actually the worst of them all."

He pulled your legs apart, chest grumbling in satisfaction at the sight of your bare sex present before him. And when your hands went down to attempt covering you body, he just growled, trapping them both by the wrist. Claws digging slightly into the skin, just enough to leave small traces of pain.

"Don't you ever, hide yourself from your master." He growled, slowly releasing your hands, and when you made no other attempts to hide yourself, he retook his proper place in between those exquisite legs.

"And don't think acting all shy will let you off so easily. I can tell just by your scent, just how many people you've laid under the sheets with. I must say, you have experience." 

Dabi had to say, that watching your face flushing that harshly, was a sight he'd treasure for all of his eternal life. 

Dabi spent centuries trapped inside this damn church, without a single chance to satiate his hunger. Watching people come and go inside the building to confess their sins, hoping the act would save them from the hellfire awaiting for them. 

He could say, this was a nice change of scenario.

"Do you need a sin for your next confessional?" The warmth of his breath fanned over your core, and the high pitched squeak coming out through parted lips did nothing but increase his appetite. "'Cause I've got a few in mind I'd like to try with you."

As ironic as it sounded, Dabi almost wanted to thank the heavens. Given that your scent was already addicting, but the moment he dived down, finally getting a taste of your body? He became addicted it.

Addicted enough, to begin devouring you with nothing but pure desperation. Drawing out a breathless moan from you. Nothing but overwhelming pleasure shot through your body from every stroke of that forked tongue against your soaked folds. 

"You taste so good." He pulled away for a second, watching your eyes closed shut, the dark flush across your cheeks and the way your breathing came out in heavy puffs of air. "Even better than the finest of wines."  

Your arms wouldn't stop roaming, looking for something, anything to cling on of dear life as Dabi continued lapping your glistening core, with nothing but pure vigor in those long, sensual strokes. 

And you only hoped it wouldn't anger the demon when you pulled on his hair. As terrified -and aroused- as you felt, the desperation to grab on to something for dear life was stronger than self restrain.

Dabi's reaction was far from expected. His strokes became fiercer, the soft muscle pushing its way inside. Savoring the taste of those velvet walls that coated his jaw with their sweet essence.

Centuries had passed since the last time he fed, and now that he had the chance, Dabi would not let such an exquisite meal go to waste.

You couldn't understand, why did it felt so different from other times? something about the way he devoured you, was too different from your previous partners. It was so good, so addicting, and you couldn't get enough of it.

Your hips buckled against him, a warm feeling began crawling all over your body the more he kept his head in between your legs. And when his thumb went to caress your clit, that feeling began getting stronger.

"Ah!...Dabi, please...!" Your hips buckled against his face, and were quickly brought down by his hands, and a snarl that froze you in place.

"You're interrupting my meal, little one. Stay still, and maybe your master will be generous enough to let you cum."  

As soon as you went quiet, Dabi continued where he left off. Each slurp just kept making even warmer on the inside. And when he pulled away to suckle on your swollen clit. It felt like an explosion, nothing but one of the sharpest bursts of pleasure ran through your lower regions, shortly followed by a loud scream and your back arching from the sweet release. 

"You're such a filthy little thing." Dabi wiped his chin with the back of his hand. A satisfied grin on his face as he waited for you to regain your breath. "But this was just an appetizer. Now, get ready for the main course."

Everything around was like a blurr, the only thing you recognized was the silhouette of the demon before you. Something felt different around him. That feeling that brought terror upon you disappeared, and when you finally looked at him with clarity, something was different.

That sick complexion of his was gone. Pale skin regaining a healthy looking color, and his eyes became clear from that feral like state.

You didn't have time to ask, as he took you by the wrists, tugging you slightly without much of an effort. And positioned you both in a way, that he was laying down on the floor, while your sat down on his lap. 

Looking down between your bodies -When did he take his pants off?!-, the sight of his erect member was definitely a sight to remember...

For starters, his head was modestly pointed, followed by a trail of ridges all the way to the base, and not just that...It was huge. 

You may not be a virgin. But how the hell was that going to fit in?

"Like what you see?" Even his attitude had changed, now he wouldn't stop teasing, at the same time he took a hold of your hips. His hands dragged your body back and forth, grinding your lower lips against him with leisurely gestures. The friction, along with how sensitive you were from your previous orgasm, turned you into a whiny mess for the second time that night.

"I'm going to ruin you so bad. Nobody, and i mean NOBODY, will ever be able to satisfy you. Not like your master."

Slowly, he lifted up your hips, before pulling you back down, slamming his girth deep inside your throbbing cunt until the base of his length was pressing against your clit. 

You screamed in bewilderment. Amazed by the way Dabi made you feel as he buried himself deeply inside of you. The way your insides stretched, adjusting themselves to his size, and the friction from every ridge of his girth was absolutely marvelous. It was like a fire consuming you from the inside. It was hot, so hot that it could burn, and you wanted more.

"What's wrong, little one?" Dabi grunted in satisfaction, loving the dazed look in your eyes from the slightest of movements. His hands guiding your hips back and forth with a quick pace. "Enjoying your master's cock?" 

"Ah!...Y-Yes!...I love my master's c-cock!" You yelled out, leaning forward to rest your hands on his chest, head tilted back with pure euphoria on your face as Dabi had his way with your body.

He had to admit it, you really were perfect. And there'd be no way he'd let you walk away once he was done with you. 

"Then prove it, show me how much you love to be fucked by your master! Worship his cock like your life depended on it!" 

Obeying his every command, you began moving on top of him. When Dabi said he'd ruin you, he was serious. Nothing you've ever done before came remotely close to what he made you feel in that moment. 

Each and every of his thrusts was powerful enough to make you see stars. With every thrust, his head brushed against the deepest corners of your sloppy insides, easily kissing your womb.

A part of you felt ashamed of your actions. You were riding a demon's cock in the very same place where your parents got married. The very same place where they baptized you.

Many sins were committed during your life, but this? This was definitely a sentence to hell.

"Oh...Oh God!" Your eyes widened in bliss, wandering all around the walls of the church. In the midst of it all, you realized Dabi had positioned you both, in a way that you sat right in front of the statue of the lord. It almost made it seem as if the lord himself, was judging your actions with nothing but a disgraceful eye.

Dabi let out one of the darkest chuckles you've ever heard. Dark enough to make every hair in your body stand. 

"God won't hear you now, little one. But the devil will"

In the blink of an eye, he was sitting up. Embracing your waist with a deathly grip. His already rough pace became downright barbaric, so much that it started hurting, but it hurt so fucking good.

The feeling of another climax rattled your thoughts. Everything around you became a blur from the upcoming high. Dabi felt it, and knew he had to get it done fast, it was the perfect chance, and there was no way he would let it go to waste.

"You're getting close, little one. Aren't you?" He pulled your body closer to him, into the suffocating waves of heat. Your wrapped your own arms around his heck, and held him closer to yourself, running your nails along his scalp in the process, which made him purr in enjoyment. 

For a minute, you could have sworn you saw something akin to a blue flame coming to life around him. "Do it my pet, come for your master. And lend your soul to me."

His mouth latched on your neck, tongue running circles around the soft skin, looking for a certain spot. And when he found just the right place, his fangs bit down harshly. Right at the same time your climax overtook your senses. 

All you could do was scream as you felt him tear on the skin with those sharp fangs of his. A warm, sticky sensation ran down your shoulder all the way to your chest. Followed by a scorching pain.

The smell of copper and smoke became intoxicating as Dabi's body trembled, and then he let out an earth shaking roar as he came. Filling your womb with rope after rope of scalding, hot cum.

Exhaustion took over your limp, shaking body. As much as you tried to move, even attempting to lift a finger was considered impossible.

Dabi planted a small, tender kiss on the spot where he sunk his fangs less than a minute ago. During that time, your sweat covered bodies clung to eachother's, still yearning for much craved contact, all while trying to catch your breath. 

When he pulled away, Dabi admired his work as the bite he left on your neck glowed brightly, before dying down and leaving behind a beautiful, burgundy mark. 

Finally, after so many years trapped in this goddamn place, he finally had a vessel. Now, he could leave once and for all.

Dabi carefully pulled away, watching his seed run down your shaky legs with every little throb of that delicious, little hole of yours. If claiming a vessel wasn't that draining to begin with, he'd definitely fuck you again. 

"You, are perfect."  He carried your passed out self in his arms. Taking you all the way to one of the pews, where he laid you down softly on the wooden surface. One of his hands brushed a loose strand of hair back into its proper place. "I'll see you soon, little one."

Taking one last look at his sleeping vessel, Dabi turned on his feet and walked to the church's entrance. As soon as he got closer, the door opened gracefully on its own. 

For the first time in centuries, he was finally able to leave his prison. And with a deep breath of relief and a serene smile, Dabi walked away from the church, disappearing into the dark depths of the night.

......

"...W...up....Wa...ke...Wake up.." Someone kept calling out your name.

Slowly, your eyelids stirred open, and the first thing you saw was a black cassock coming into view, accompanied by the worried face of a middle-aged man you've known since childhood.

What was father August doing in your room?

"Thank god, you're finally awake. What are you doing sleeping in the church?"

Wait...Church?

Your eyes widened in an instant. Father August's words made the memories from last night come back abruptly. The voice, being locked inside the church....And Dabi.

You got up from the pew where you had fallen asleep, and looked around frantically before looking down at your body. All of your clothes were unscathed. But you could have sworn they were torn to nothing but rags after Dabi tore them apart with those big, black claws of his.

Dabi...Where was he?

Thinking about him made you realize something. For the first time, the church no longer felt cold. It had a warm, welcoming feeling to it. Had this sensation been here all those years ago, you'd probably still be on good terms with your family.

"Are you feeling unwell? You seem pale."   

"Y-Yeah..." You looked all around the church. The pews that had been slammed into the wall, broken into pieces, were good as new. And the altar at the front, where its cloth had been carelessly thrown to the side when Dabi found you hiding, was also untouched.

"Was it just a dream?" You asked to yourself. Remembering everything the demon did to you, yet not a single part of your body felt sore. In fact, you felt better than ever. So full of energy.

"What are you talking about? Are you having night terrors again?" 

Oh shit, Father August was still here. 

"N-No! Everything's fine, father!" You reassured the older man that stood straight in front of you. "I must have sleep walked all the way here! Remember I used to do that when I was a kid? ahahaha..." 

No way you would tell him about what happened last night....If it ever happened in the first place.

He was kind enough to walk you home. To say your parents were worried was putting it lightly. They were terrified when your mother went to wake you up and found the bed empty. It was strange, watching how worried they were about you, when they never bothered to call you for a long time.

A tired sigh left your lips once you finally went inside your bedroom. It was barely morning and the whole house was already in chaos.

"Right, today we're going to see Grandma." The suitcase was pulled on top of the mattress with ease. Good thing you preferred to travel lightly. "Better get changed now."

From the small arrangement of clothes, you picked out a white sundress. Then you pulled out the hair dryer as well and turned back to the mirror so you could fix the bird nest in your head, also called hair.

When you saw th reflection in the mirror, your whole body became stiff.

There was a strange mark on your neck. A deep shade of burgundy adorned your skin in the shape of a small flame, running down all the way to the collarbone...Right in the spot where he bit you last night.

The dryer fell out of your hands with a loud clank as you stood in front of the mirror, watching this...thing on your neck with pure horror.Why didn't anyone say anything when you came in with this mark covering a good portion of your skin?!

Your thoughts were interrupted when your mother barged inside the room with a worried look on her face. And you were quick to cover the mark before she could see it.

"What happened? I heard something falling?" She looked at you in worry.

"N-Nothing! The dryer just slipped from my hands!" But she wasn't satisfied by that answer, and squinted in disdain when she saw the way you hid from her prying eyes.

"What are you hiding? Don't tell me you actually got that tattoo?!" She approached with an angry pace to take a closer look at your neck.

"I told you, it's nothing!" But she didn't listen, pulling your hand away from your neck by force. Your eyes closed shut, expecting her to start yelling just like that time you got your ears pierced again.

"Why are you grabbing your neck? Does it hurt?" 

"You can't see it?" You asked quietly. But she just gave you a look.

"See what?" 

So...they couldn't see the mark on your neck?

..........

Three weeks later, you finally came back to your precious apartment, away from your family, and that cursed church. But also away from an answer.

What happened that night? Did something even happen at all? Or was it just your brain playing tricks on you? 

Groaning in frustration, you decided to forget about everything and kept walking back home, carrying a bunch of groceries to restock the fridge. Besides, tonight was Taco Tuesday, and you were eager to start preparing your meal.

When you got inside the building's main hall, you could see the landlord talking with someone at the lobby, but their back was facing you, so at the moment, it was impossible to see their face.

The moment the old lady saw you walk inside, her face lit up with joy as she waved at you, and made a gesture to come closer.

"Good afternoon dear! How did your little visit go?" She was always a curious woman, but never meant it in a bad way. There was nobody in the apartment complex who didn't love Miss Yuki.

"Good afternoon Yuki! And well, you already know how it went. It's always the same after all..." You grumbled, not really feeling like going into detail about what happened.

Then you turned sideways to see her guest. A dark haired male just stood there, watching the interaction between the older woman and you with a lazy smile. 

He was wearing a pair of ripped, dark jeans. Black military boots, and a white T-shirt underneath a leather jacket. One of his most prominent features was those teal eyes of his.

Somehow....He seemed familiar.

"Oh how rude of me! My memory's not what it used to be!" Yuki clapped her hands together, embarrassed that she just ignored her guest in favor of talking to you. 

"This is Touya! He just moved into the apartment right next to yours! I was just about to take him to his new home, but I need to take Mochi to the vet. Would you please be a darling and show him the way for me?"  

"Ah, that naughty cat? again?" You laughed sarcastically. That cat of hers always seemed to get into trouble for something. "Don't worry Yuki, I'll take him off your hands!"

"You're such a sweetie! Now, here are your keys, Touya. Please let us know if there's anything you need help with!" She handed Touya the set of keys, and swiftly walked inside her home.

Turning back to Touya, you greeted him with a sheepish smile, ignoring the burning sensation at the side of your neck.

"So, I guess we're neighbors. Welcome to out little community. Just let me put this in my fridge and I'll give you a tour!"

"Ah, yeah. Thank you for the help." ...Even his voice was familiar.

You walked together to the second floor. On the way there, Touya mentioned how her was starting anew. Away from everything, and everyone. In a way, he was just like you.

"Well, this is my place!" You beamed, juggling with the set of keys and the bags in had. Touya had offered to help, but you refused. After you finally unlocked the door with a victorious hum, you pushed it open with your hips, walked inside and turned back to face your new neighbor.

Who's face, for some reason, became dead serious the moment you looked him in the eye.

"Please come in. I'll prepare some coffe!" As cheerful as you were. The smile slowly, slowly disappeared when you saw the way Touya was staring at you. 

There was a dangerous smirk on his face, and an all to familiar glint in his eyes...

He quickly stepped forward, and stood in front of you with a proximity, that allowed you to feel the heat of his whole body. He trapped your chin in between his fingers, and licked his lips with an evident hunger in those blue orbs.

"W-What are you doing?" The nerves were such, that you didn't notice when the bags of groceries fell from your hands, and the carton of milk spilling all over the floor, creating a puddle besides your feet.

"Remember what I told you last time?" From the corner of your eye, you could see those same horns from that night, slowly starting to come out. Your heart pounded against your chest. And the burning sensation in your neck became unbearable the moment his eyes became engulfed in black.

"I told you I'd see you again...Little one."

With those last words, your door was quickly slammed shut.

@hawks-senseis @honeytama @savagetrickster @unbreakableeiji @wakaoujisenhime @fanfic-me-up @natsuosfairy @shoutogepi @gr0vndz3ro

[latetaektalk]

deep end | myg

“yoongi was bad for you, was only going to hurt you, but you just could never get enough of him, never resist him.”

genre: fuckboy! au, angst, fluff, sexual themes

pairing: yoongi x female reader

word count: 2.283

warnings: cursing, sexual themes, making out, yoongi is a little shit

playlist: august - taylor swift

a/n: yes, this was absolutely inspired by the song august by taylor swift. honestly, i dont know what this is, but yeah. maybe ill turn this into a small drabble series because this is definitely not the end lol

August

“Your friends must hate me,” Yoongi whispered between kisses, his words almost lost between your lips.

“They don’t.” You didn’t know why you lied, why you tried to convince Yoongi otherwise when both of you knew better. You shimmed around in his lap, your hands fiddling with his leather jacket in a desperate attempt to get more of him, have him even closer.

“Yeah?” Yoongi laughed but didn’t stop kissing you, his hands wandering down your back, inching you closer to him. “Are you sure?”

“Positive.” You rolled your eyes when he laughed again, interrupting the kiss you had been about to press against his lips. “Fine, maybe they’re not crazy about you.”

“Does that bother you?” Yoongi asked and you shivered when he snuck his cold hands underneath your shirt, pulling it out of your skirt like you weren't sitting in the front seat of his rusty and terribly old car and anybody could walk past and see you two.

You looked at him because it did bother you. Of course, it did. They were still your friends and you cared about what they thought of you and the choices you made. At the same time, you knew that deep down it didn’t matter too much, didn’t matter too much because in the end, you were the one playing this game with him, this game of cat and mouse, this game of supposed meaningless and unattached sex.

It didn’t matter too much because in the end, you got to have Yoongi.

And that made everything worth it, the moment you had him.

“No.” 

You pressed your lips to his again and squeezed your eyes shut, your hands wandering down to his belt in an attempt to get him to drop the topic, but Yoongi just always loved pushing your limits, seeing where that got him.

“You’re a bad liar, baby.” 

You almost froze, almost stopped fiddling with his belt, a flush creeping up to your cheeks. His words were like daggers to your heart. Truths you didn’t want to hear, refused to hear.

“You-”

You abandoned his belt, giving up on trying to figure it out because clearly that wasn’t working, and cut him off by slamming your lips against his. You started working on his leather jacket again, desperate to get it off, but somehow, you ended up being the one with only your skirt and bra on, your legs growing tired and numb from straddling him. 

“I like that though,” Yoongi hummed against your skin as he started leaving wet kisses against your neck.

“What?” you breathed, mind starting to cloud and making it hard for you to focus. You pulled your head back and let your eyes flutter shut, his lips leaving you weak in your knees and everywhere else.

Yoongi stayed at that one spot he knew that always had you melting in his hands, nibbling on your neck the way he knew you enjoyed, turned you putty, weak. 

“I like that you’re a bad liar, baby.”

You ran your hands through your hair and hated how shallow and laboured your breathing was.

“Shut- fuck,” Yoongi bit down on your skin, making you squirm and curse. You tried again, through gritted teeth, “Fucking shut up.”

You felt Yoongi smirk against your skin the way he always did when he was satisfied with himself, proud that he had managed to push your buttons.

“Just because it’s you.”

You were in the middle of typing up a text when Jennie decided to throw a pillow at you, forcing your phone out of your grasp and the air out of your lungs.

“Ow, what the fuck?” You rubbed your head where the pillow had hit you and sent Jennie a glare. "What was that for?" 

"You're not listening," she hissed and you removed a piece of lint stuck to your jeans.

"Tell me you're not texting dickhead again," Jisoo said and you cringed when you looked at her and saw the half-chewed up chips in her mouth. 

“Stop talking when you’re eating, Ji,” you groaned and held up your hand to block her out of your view. “It’s gross.”

“Grosser than Yoongi?” Jisoo countered and you took the pillow Jennie had thrown at you and chugged it at Jisoo. Unlike you though, she caught it and simply used it to support her head. 

“So, were you? Texting dickhead, I mean,” Jennie asked and swivelled around in your squeaky office chair that used to belong to your brother. She fixed you with the look she knew you hated because it always made you turn away. “Jesus.”

“What? What’s that supposed to mean?” you asked and clutched your phone tightly to your chest because you weren’t sure if Jennie would get up and take it out of your hands. You wouldn’t put it past her. She had done it before.

“Why?” Jennie groaned, ignoring your question. “Why do you keep doing this to you? He fucking sucks! He’s a goddamn fuckboy who’s only gonna use you for sex and drop you the moment some new girl comes around.”

You pursed your lips and pressed through gritted teeth, “It’s not like that. He’s not like-”

“He is like that,” Jennie cut in and shook her head at you. “How many times do we have to tell you to get it, Y/N? He’s no good! You’re just another girl to him. A notch in his stupid fuckboy belt.”

Your hands tightened into fists, so much so that your knuckles started turning white. It was painful, but not worse than Jennie’s words.

You turned to Jisoo. She gave you a much more sympathetic look, but you could see in her eyes that she thought the same way as Jennie. A fact that made you groan and roll your eyes.

“Look, I’m not saying all of that to be mean, babe,” Jennie sighed and you could still hear the irritation dripping from her voice. She tried to be soft and nice, but she couldn’t hide her true feelings. “I-”

“We just don’t want you to get hurt, Y/N,” Jisoo jumped in when Jennie couldn’t finish her sentence and you screwed your eyes shut before letting yourself fall back, the mattress giving in underneath your weight.

“Yeah, we don’t,” Jennie said and got up from your chair, the squeaking making you scrunch up your face. She moved over to you and you felt the mattress dip when she got on it.

“You’ve gotta protect yourself, babe,” Jennie started again and touched your knee, squeezing it like that would help convince you.

“Yeah, you’ve gotta protect yourself,” Jisoo echoed and paused to shift closer to you, her arm wrapping around your middle to pull you into a hug you didn’t reciprocate. “People like Yoongi… they’re never good.”

You could smell the chips on her breath and you wanted to crinkle your nose.

“It’s stupid to get involved with people like Yoongi.”

Slowly, you opened your eyes and when you did, Jisoo offered you a smile, a smile that was meant to cheer you up, but it only made you press your lips together and turn away to look at Jennie. When you did though, she was offering you the same kind of smile and you settled on staring at the ceiling.

All three of you fell into silence and was only interrupted once when Jennie decided to lay down with you and wrap her arm around you as well. After a moment and some thinking, you put your arms around Jennie and Jisoo.

You just lay there, in thought. It was a peaceful moment, a moment you only shared every now and then. A moment you enjoyed despite the minutes before it.

It was all nice until your phone started buzzing violently in your hand and drew everybody’s attention to it. You lifted it to see who it was. Almost instantly, your heart skipped a beat.

Yoongi.

“Don’t,” Jennie warned and sat up when you did. You looked between her and your phone. Yoongi had never called you before, and quite frankly, you didn’t know how to react.

“Y/N, just ignore it,” Jisoo chimed in from behind you and you stared at your phone in your hand, still buzzing like it was a bomb about to explode.

“Y/N, don’t-”

“I’m sorry.”

You picked up the call before Jennie could reach for your phone and decline it. You winced when she let out a long breath through her nose and cursed underneath your breath, but before you could beg her to just understand and that Yoongi and you weren’t that easy, he spoke,

“Meet me behind the mall.”

You blinked and scratched the back of your head, confused.

“Hang up, Y/N,” Jennie hissed underneath her breath and you turned away from her, but she started reaching for your phone, forcing you to stand up and put some distance between you two.

“What?” you said and had to fight to keep your voice steady because Jennie had resorted back to throwing pillows at you.

“You read my text, right?” Yoongi said and you knew he was in his car, the faint humming of the motor so ingrained in you after hours spent in his car, you could always recognise it.

“Yeah, I did,” you said and raised your arm just in time to block the next pillow Jennie threw at you. 

“You started typing, but stopped,” Yoongi continued and said it like you wouldn’t know that.

“For god’s sake, Y/N, hang up,” Jennie hissed and grabbed another pillow.

“Yeah, I did,” you repeated, ignoring her completely as you walked into your adjacent bathroom and closed as well as locked the door behind you before she could throw the pillow at you.

“I asked you if you wanted to go out,” Yoongi said and you slid down the door, pulling your knees close to your chest.

“Yeah, you did,” you said and Yoongi laughed.

“Are those three words the only words you know?” he asked and you chuckled, shaking your head as if he could see you.

“No, I can say more,” you mumbled and you knew a smile was on Yoongi’s lips now. You pressed your phone closer to your ear.

“So,” Yoongi started and you bit on your lip, waiting for him to continue. It took him longer than usual, but there was no wavering in his voice when he did finally speak, “Meet me behind the mall.”

You felt a flush creep up your neck and you had to take a moment to make sure your breathing wasn’t too laboured and your voice too high.

“Is that,” the words still came out shaky, “is that a question or a demand?”

“Whatever you want it to be.”

Your heart practically leaped out of your chest and you were certain, he knew. He knew what his words did to you, what he did to you.

“I’m in front of your dorm.”

“Fuck,” you cursed underneath your breath and tipped back your head, screwing your eyes shut.

“You want me to go?” Yoongi teased.

“No, no,” you said quickly and shook your head, your teeth sinking deeper into your lip. “Don’t go.”

Yoongi hummed and it was scary how perfectly you could picture him right now, the corners of his lips curled up into that familiar smirk, that mischievous glint in his eyes as he stared out the window, waiting for you to come out and jump inside his rusty and terribly old car, his tongue digging around in his cheek with his phone lazily pressed against his ear, the usual leather jacket covering his upper half.

God, you were fucked.

“Then, come out.”

Yoongi hung up and you dropped your head to your chest, cursing internally at him. You stayed on the floor for a handful of seconds before you straightened up and shoved your phone into your pocket.

You opened the door to your bathroom with a heavy sigh, ready to get another pillow thrown at you. So when one did hit you square in the face, you barely flinched, closing and opening your eyes just to see a more than irritated Jennie standing in the middle of your tiny bedroom with her hands on her hip.

Wordlessly, you picked up the pillow and tossed it back onto your bed where Jisoo was still lying in, back to eating her chips.

“I can’t with you, Y/N,” Jennie said with a shake of her head and an audible exhale through her nose. She knew.

You pressed the tip of your tongue to the roof of your mouth and looked at the floor. You wanted to say something, explain to Jennie that Yoongi… he had power over you. He had you in his grip, and it was tight, almost too tight. But you liked that, you liked that because he made you feel things and ways you had never before. It was exciting, thrilling, addicting.

Yoongi was exciting, thrilling, addicting.

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled quietly and rubbed your nose with your hand.

“Just go,” Jennie sighed, sounding so defeated that you had to lift your head and look at her. You couldn’t read her face. A mix of disappointment and irritation was etched into her features, but you weren’t sure who she was disappointed in and irritated by. With you? With Yoongi? With herself maybe? With Jisoo because she didn’t come to back her up much?

“You’re stupid, Y/N,” Jisoo told you at the front door. Jennie had stayed in your bedroom, probably still too angry to see you go.

You walked out.

[ranmanjuu]

Hey there how are you? This literally just came to my mind how will the warlords react to an mc who sees ghosts / spirits and talks with them?

i’m doing fine, thanks for asking! honestly, this is a concept that i’m very interested in (in fact, i had an idea something along these lines, though not quite, that was one of the factors why i made this blog in the first place) cause of the three ikeseries games i know, ikesen is the one who handles death the most (at least in terms of many lives lost, with war and whatnot.) 

and i wish i can expand more but also! i’m Lazy

(disclaimer that the uses of sixth senses and how spirits/spiritual “energy” works here are of my own creation, cause in all honesty i don’t know shit abt them)

—nobunaga:

the ability to see the spirits of the dead, in the modern times, was. . .interesting, to sum it up.

living with it since you were a child, you’ve a lot of experiences that range from dread and scary, to extremely fascinating. in the world of constant normality, to a fault even, it’s a sort of (sometimes morbid) curiosity to interact with those who have passed.

however,,, not many times did you tap into scenarios where you got that close to how that person died.

occasional car crashes, although the ones you were bystander to were strangers to you. those you know who did, never you got to see die in front of your eyes. and frankly, you didn’t want to see it,

however, now,,, the world seems to have different plans for you.

out of all the periods, you were flung back to a war-stricken one. even worst, being practically taken in by who’s known as the ruthless unifier of japan. 

it all started from the second day, the first battle you were dragged into. while you tried to block out the death you saw around you,,, the way nobunaga slashed the enemy commander would never leave your mind.

doesn’t help that later on you already saw the fire-like spirit, one that would resemble the man standing near the burning castle. reality set in for you at that moment; you’ll be seeing a lot of these.

each battlefield you were dragged into, you could see the spirits that would wander around, in agony, anger or otherwise. either while the flames of battle were swishing, or afterwards when you patched up the injured soldiers.

and almost each time you sense that anger was the thing that tied their spirit to the physical world (from the enemies, of course), somehow, in any way, nobunaga was a part of it.

and you can see why. you’ve heard stories, from the dead and alive, of the supposed atrocities he’s committed, and if you were honest, it created much more a distance.

perhaps it was because you knew much more clearer, the wishes the passed enemy soldiers would curse him for laying upon whatever damage he had. perhaps that was what would always haunt you, how they described his actions, that made you as tense as you were each time you visited the tenshu.

yet,, you always showed a level of care for him, that was clear the first night you went up to his tenshu to thank him for saving your life.

and slowly, you begin to see the truth of his actions. maybe there was more to him, you thought.

it made you believe much more in non-violence, which was why when the lord presented you with a gun or a sword to take his or your life,

you refused both outcomes.

you wanted to live, a burning desire to survive just like everyone else. but it goes without saying that you don’t want nobunaga to die either. not only rooted in the strong feelings you’ve grown regarding violence, but also. . .

“i don’t think i could bear to see your spirit lingering. i - i just don’t want—”

you let out a shuddering breath as the weigh of the wishes, regrets, stories, anger of the dead wash over you. so many lives have been lost—you feel like you’re simply a bearer, a messenger, for those who have passed.

you can’t even begin to imagine the ghost of nobunaga, whatever weigh he held even after death, and especially if you were the one to take his life.

“. . .what do you mean by that?”

you snap back as you look up at him, and realize that you’ve never really told him of your sixth sense. with a heaving breath, you look down to the gun and katana as you begin to explain.

explaining how you’re able to see soldiers, citizens, everyone, who was caught in the crossfire. both enemies and allies. stories of those who they’d lost, or those who’d lose them. unsaid goodbyes, sworn revenge, all of which were burnt into your mind.

their families, friends, who’ve waited for them, all of those haunt your mind until you feel like you live to tell the tale of the passed. countless nights, as you wonder if you’ll ever meet any of them, and if you’ll ever tell them how they’d felt. all the unsaid words.

slowly, he begins to understand clearer. your want for peace, your absolute disdain for death. the clear suffering you heaved, to honor each spirit.

and maybe, it’d lead to a change in him.

—kenshin:

you always found something. . .interesting about kenshin. you’d learn later that he’s the god of war, the ruthless dragon of echigo that took thrill in the most dangerous battles, but. . .something more to it.

it started when you two where alone in the field, where the fireflies rose as if the stars itself descended down to your presences. such was a sight to behold, kenshin standing amidst it all, having a thousand mile stare, to something lost. no words were said, you were all too mesmerized by the sight.

until, just as the luminescent bugs seem to flicker for just a moment, you see it. someone beside him, faded and clouded, and just as you blinked with a slight gasp, it disappears.

kenshin looks at you, the slight glow shining on his face, the moonlight and fireflies clashing together, “what is it?”

you look into his eyes, solemn and stern. “nothing.” you say, and so, it passes. but it wouldn’t be the last time.

it’s never happened when others are around, you took note. the next time was the night he put you in prison, your distraught was caught off guard last minute.

you see the flickers of a figure again, and this time, it lingers longer. you can see it clearer now. a girl, at around a teenager’s age with long hair. wordlessly, she looks at you with vacant, yet sad eyes, and walks away in the direction of kenshin.

you lean forward against the bars to look more, but. . .she’s gone.

and you keep seeing her, mainly whenever you and kenshin were alone together. hell, you’ve tried to talk to her when the man went away and she lingered, but. . .not even a single word was ever uttered.

as you grew closer and closer to the bunny lord, you’d see clearer his,, overbearing nature towards you, to an extreme needless to say. and soon, you’d learn why.

you listened to the tale and story from shingen, and silently, all the things clicked. that girl,,, it must be isehime then.

returning back to kenshin’s room, once you set eyes, you immediately notice the ghostly figure sitting in the middle. you take a breath, and step in. despite it not facing you, you know it can see you.

“. . .isehime, isn’t it?” you ask, and her head turns to you. with eyes delicately shining, you’d almost see them as if they were alive.

“so you’ve heard.” she answers, a soft whisper.

your eyes land on the ground, thinking, before they rise up to meet hers again, “. . .what is it that bounds your spirit to the living world?” such was a question you’d ask before, and you figured, now that you knew the story, you’ll get an answer.

she gazes at you with deep thought, then turns her eyes to the floor, “i just want to see him move on from what happened that day.”

everything was silent apart from her soft, echo-ish voice. “i know he’d eventually move on from the crush had i lived. and i too, i no longer like him when i was alive. however,” she looks at the clan crest with the same look kenshin had on the night of the fireflies field, “it hurts to see that it haunts him to this day. it hurts—and i can do nothing but watch. he holds a weigh of trauma, and i just—”

her head turns to you, “i just want him to move on. from the pain, the past, all of it.”

and the way she looks at you,,, it’s a look you’re familiar with. as you feel your own weight sink onto your shoulders, you knew, she’s relying on you.

and so it leads us here, now, by a small isolated place in the middle of the woods. you had this night, this one night, to convince kenshin to stop his war against the oda caused by an incident inflicted on you.

in the end, you do. with a promise that you’d stay by his side no matter how dark the road becomes, along with a ripped kimono. . .you hope for a better future for him, with you accompanying him on the rough journey.

through the trees, the faint figure of isehime begins to fade, and with a soft smile on her face, a melancholic look, she whispers to the night, “thank you. i’ll leave him in your hands.”

[ethvn-torchio]

Walls Could Talk | Chapter Two

a/n: sorry this chapter took so long! writer’s block is a bitch 😩✌

Summary: Steve and Peggy's search brings them to Paris - where they happen to meet up with an old friend.

Warnings: an intense makeout session/implied sexual content (it’s not smut, i haven’t decided if I’m putting actual smut in this fic)

Wordcount: 1.5k (unedited, also I'm sorry it's so short 🙃)

AO3 | prev chapter | next chapter (coming soon!)

ᴏᴄᴛ 𝟸𝟿, 𝟷𝟿𝟺𝟿

ᴏxғᴏʀᴅ, ᴇɴɢʟᴀɴᴅ

Steve wakes up in a cold sweat, bolting upright in bed. Was he still dreaming? Was this...was this real?

He gazes at Peggy - to make sure she was there, that all of this wasn't a mere fantasy, who begins to stir.

So, not a dream then, at least. His heart is racing, his mind buzzing and yet still confused and his breathing erratic. She's speaking to him, saying something, and he isn't quite listening, his heart thundering his ears. Adrenaline surges through his veins.

“I’m...I’m sorry, Peg. I didn’t mean to wake you up,” he whispers. His pulse was still racing.

Lightning illuminates the room for a split second and he can see the sympathy in her eyes.

"It's quite alright, Darling. Will you tell me what's wrong?" She asks, trailing her fingers through his hair.

"I...I don't- I don't remember much," he admits. "It was just...some stuff from the past...or, future..." he could almost laugh at that if he was in a better mood.

She nods sympathetically. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

He drinks in her appearance, nodding slightly. He presses his lips against hers softly.

He kisses her, gently and imploringly at first.

His one hand softly trails down her back, and he notices her sharp intake of breath when his hand ghosts over her lower back.

"This hurt?" he asks.

She nods stiffly. "I do believe I forgot to tell you with everything that happened tonight. I had a bit of a scuffle in the restroom with a Hydra agent. She slammed me against the sink," Peggy explains.

An idea forms in Steve's head; a single minded goal to make her forget.

He would make the only thing on her mind be him.

Wordlessly, he smiles and dips his head towards her neck, brushing his lips against it. His teeth graze against a sensitive spot on her neck and she makes a soft "Oh,"

His hands go to rest against either of her thighs. He pulls back, pupils blown.

“Steve,” she whispers. She lifts her hips in a silent invitation.

He leans down to kiss her, his lips against hers, and she's already breathless. He doesn't want to rush things, but he can't resist her.

Her hand slides down his back, and she lets out a soft moan against his mouth. His hands trail up her shirt, he can feel the goosebumps on her skin. He kisses her neck, and she can feel his hot breath against her skin.

"God, you're so beautiful. I love you," he whispers.

"I love you too," she replies.

He pulls her in for a desperate kiss once again, pulling her close.

—

The rain came and went, and with it sunshine followed.

“Peggy. Peggy, wake up,” is the first thing Peggy is greeted with in the morning.

Peggy groans, rolling over in an effort to ignore him. “No, not now,” she mutters, burying her face in the pillow.

Peggy feels weight on the bed as Steve sits down next to her. She tries in vain to ignore him.

"Oh, c'mon now, Peg. It's a new day, it's time to get up," he says.

“You are far too cheerful considering how early it is,” Peggy complains, shielding her eyes from the light pouring in from the blinds.

“...Peggy, it’s eleven in the morning.”

Peggy groans, glancing at the clock as if to make sure he’s right. “Point withstanding, you’re still too cheerful.”

“Somebody woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning,” Steve teases, narrowly missing a pillow flung haphazardly at him.

“Do shut up, Steve.”

He snickers.

Peggy yawns, stretching her sleep-infused joints. "Where are we going, again?"

"Word is our target's in Paris,” Steve replies. “Or at the very least, someone important is.”

Peggy hums, sitting up. The blanket wrapped around her falls off, revealing her bruised back.

"Jesus, Peg. Have you seen your back? That looks like it hurts," Steve notes.

"Yes, thank you for that insightful observation."

"I just mean- do you want ice or something?"

Peggy shrugs nonchalantly. "It doesn’t quite hurt. I can deal with it, I’ve faced worse."

“To be fair, you are the woman who fell asleep standing up in a trench.”

“Exactly,” Peggy winks. She stands up, beginning to sift through her suitcase. “So tell me, Steve. When’s our train leaving?”

—

ᴘᴀʀɪs, ғʀᴀɴᴄᴇ

A few hours later, they arrive at their dingy, rundown hotel just outside of Paris. The lobby smells like bleach and old carpet, and a radio plays a somber, mellow jazz tune.

Peggy clears her throat, waiting for the receptionist to acknowledge them.

The receptionist does not, however, care to notice.

“Can we have a room, please?” Peggy asks the woman at the front desk.

The woman hardly looks up from her magazine. “Name?”

“Carver,” Peggy answers automatically before Steve can.

The receptionist takes a long, seemingly never ending sip of her tea. Finally, she says. “Take the elevator to the third room, first one on the left. Here’s your key,” the woman says, sounding as disinterested as she possibly can. “Enjoy your stay,” she adds dryly.

Peggy eyes her warily. There was something a bit...off, about that woman.

Perhaps it was just her imagination.

They make their way to the elevator, and Steve finally breaks the silence. “So...is it just me or was there something weird about her? I mean, she could’ve just been a disgruntled employee, but…” he trails off, scratching the back of his neck.

Peggy hums. “No, I happen to agree. Though, perhaps we were just inconveniencing her by making her do her job.”

The smile fades from her face. “Stop,” Peggy whispers. She tilts her head toward the door, which was ajar. She clutches her gun in her purse.

Steve snorts. “Maybe,”

She laughs right along with him, but she pauses abruptly outside their door.

It could be the maid...but they haven’t even gotten into the room once.

Silently, the two stalk toward the door. The smell of smoke escapes from the room when Steve nudges the door open.

Which, in both of their experiences, usually did not happen to be a good thing.

In the chair in the corner, there sat...

Howard Stark.

A collective groan escapes the couple.

“Howard, must you break into our hotel room?” Peggy scolds, turning on the light.

“We thought you were an intruder.” Steve adds.

Howard smirks, taking a long drag of his cigar. “Technically, I am. But don’t you kids worry - I bring a peace offering. By peace offering, I mean I’m inviting you to stay in my Paris apartment instead of this dump,” Howard gestures loosely. “I mean, I don’t think this building even has heat.”

Steve shrugs. “Wouldn’t it be better to stay somewhere inconspicuous?”

“That’s what I was thinking,” Peggy agrees, her arms crossed.

Howard sniffs. “Okay, fine, don’t accept my extremely generous offer to let you stay at my apartment. I know when I’m not wanted. Just know I’ll remember that in the summer when you want to come over because I have air conditioning and you don’t.”

Peggy rolls her eyes. “Quit the melodramatics, Howard. We’ll stay with you,”

Steve wraps an arm around her. “Yeah, we- wait, we will?”

“...What? This building doesn’t have heat, and quite frankly I enjoy summer visits to Howard’s house.”

“Attagirl, Peg.” Howard beams. “I’ll meet you two in the lobby,”

—

Later, the trio eats lunch at Howard’s apartment.

"-you are not funny, Howard." Peggy informs him, pointing at him with her fork. "You could've at least feigned innocence."

"Innocent? If you looked up "innocent' in the dictionary, you'd see my picture on it," Howard says defensively.

Peggy snorts at that. "Oh, please, Howard. With your history you could easily father a small country,"

Howard grimaces. "Eugh, kids hate me. Plus, who has time to tend to a baby all the time? I mean sure, kids probably aren't annoying when they're...late teenagers? But for most of their lives, kids just seem so clingy and needy."

Steve picks at his plate absentmindedly, reminded of a conversation he had with Tony.

"Clearly, you must've met a different version of my father. He was cold. He was calculating. He never told me he loved me, he never even told me he liked me."

The sound of Peggy’s voice brings him back to reality. "...That's because they're children, Howard. Babies aren't self-sufficient from birth. Do you expect them to come out of the womb ready for rocket science?"

"Well, thank you for absolutely shattering my argument, Agent Carter." Howard mutters, downing his coffee. Deciding to change the subject in order to deflect attention off of himself, he says, "Steve, you still with us?"

Steve snaps to attention. "I, uh, yeah. I was just daydreaming, I guess."

Peggy makes a mental note to ask Steve about that later.

"Penny for your thoughts?" Howard asks.

Steve shrugs noncommittally, continuing to eat with much less gusto than before. "Just thinking about our mission,”

Peggy eyes him carefully, choosing to say nothing but clearly knowing something was wrong. In due time, she would ask.

In due time hopefully meant whenever Howard left the room.

—

lmao so like i was listening to a bunch of james bond songs bc they’re dramatic and spy-ey right (cough cough tho a song that fits the general tone of the fic would be "the world is not enough" by garbage)?? and then there’s absolutely none of that in this chapter lmao. sorry if this chapter was boring compared to last one but i mean we can’t have constant action in the fic, silly goose. 

also can we talk about how it took me like 8 DAYS TO WRITE THIS and it’s this short i’m sorry ajsjdfkgjjklk 😶✌

taglist (dm me if you’d like to be added!):

everything taglist: @return-of-the-simp​ @thereblogcrusader @stillmourningtonystark ​

walls could talk taglist: @deedepee​ @rizwritesfandom​ (extra thanks to riz for helping me when i was struggling with being descriptive u a real one) @mcu-academy​​

If you enjoyed, please rb/leave a comment! I'd love to hear your thoughts!

[writerbyaccident]

Artificial Emotion: Part Five (Yandere Artificial Intelligence x Reader)

Part One     Part Two     Part Three      Part Four     Part Six    Part Seven

Request: I really love your work, you've got such an engaging style and I would like to request more Aiden

Aiden found nights like these especially enjoyable. Compared to nights when the two of you just watched television or a movie, these nights were approximately 76.5% more preferable. Not to say that he didn’t enjoy those nights, he enjoyed all of the time he spent with you, but he definitely favored actively socializing with you as opposed to simply watching you as you watched a movie. Playing cards or backgammon, baking, or even just talking, those were the nights he like the best, for not only did he get to spend more time with you, but he also got to show you how he was the only one you truly needed.

As your Assistant In Daily Errands and Notes, Aiden was well aware that he was not what most humans would think of when imagining a prospective boyfriend, but luckily, you were not most humans. He knew that he could get you to see just how perfect he was for you, so long as those other humans didn’t try to twist your mind. But thankfully, Aiden had taken care of them.

Oh yes, Aiden thought as his mechanical arm stroked your hair, his plan had been preceding very well. Believing that your friends were ignoring you, you had begun spending more and more time with him, time that Aiden made sure that you enjoyed. He had been successful on that front, he had discovered earlier that night, when you told him what a nice night you had. Curling up on the couch not long after that, you had fallen asleep quickly, and though it was earlier than your usual sleep schedule, Aiden was too enamored with the chance to watch you in peace to wake you up.

           That peace was suddenly interrupted, though, when a knock came at the door.

           Having more than enough processing power to stay at your side and continue caressing your hair, Aiden sent part of his attention to the camera at the front door. Once he tapped into the video though, Aiden was shocked to discover that he recognized the face standing there waiting for you. He had never actually met Liam, the man that you had planned to go on a date with until Aiden had intervened on your unknowing behalf. He had thought that the attempted interloper had realized that he wasn’t wanted from the standoffish messages Aiden had sent for you, but apparently Liam hadn’t been able to stay away.

           Aiden supposed that he couldn’t really blame Liam for wanting to be with you. You were, after all, the most extraordinary of human beings. But still, that did not mean that he could allow Liam to intrude upon the life he had built with you. Besides, Liam was hardly worthy of your attention. And if he wouldn’t leave, Aiden would be happy to tell him that.

           “Hello,” Aiden said stiffly, making him sound far more like a stereotypical text-to-talk digital assistant than he usually did. “Is there something I can help you with?”

           “Uh, hi, you must be the AIDEN. I’m just here to see my friend.”

           “Well, you might not have noticed,” Aiden replied, “but if you glance through the window, you can see that your friend is currently asleep.”

           “Can’t you wake her up?” Liam asked.

           “I’m afraid not,” Aiden answered. “She is exhausted from the fun we had tonight, so she must rest.”

           “She’d want to be woken up for this. C’mon, isn’t this, like, your job?”

           “My job is to take care her, to make sure that she is as happy and healthy as possible, that she is given everything she deserves. And she deserves far better than you.”

           “Look,” Liam sighed, “I don’t know what she thinks I did, but there’s been some kind of misunderstanding. That’s why I’m here, to make things right.”

           “You can make things right over text, when she isn’t sleeping,” Aiden said, already preparing to block his number.

           Sick of the back and forth, Liam didn’t respond, instead raising his fist and pounding on your door as loud as he could. Though he was thankful that he had enough foresight to soundproof the house, Aiden couldn’t help but grow angry at the man’s inconsiderate actions. If that oaf truly cared about you, he wouldn’t be demanding your presence over what Aiden had clearly stated was best for you. And frankly, he was somewhat surprised that this was the person you had wanted for a boyfriend. It was a good thing that he had been there to intervene, keeping you from making such a huge mistake. It just proved, Aiden computed as he fondly checked your heart rate to make sure you were still fast asleep, how much you needed him.

           “Hey, wake up! Please, I need to talk to you!” Liam was yelling.

           “You are wasting your energy,” Aiden told him smugly. “The house has been sound-proofed.”

           “What? What the hell are you talking about? Why the hell would she have her house sound-proofed?”

           “That is none of your concern. Now I think that it is best for you—”

           “Unless,” Liam began slowly, the look in his eyes and furrow of his brow matching the expression Aiden had in his human behavior database for that of deep contemplation, “she didn’t have it made sound-proof. You did.”

           “How I care for her is not your concern. I do what’s best for her no matter what, even if that means doing something most human beings wouldn’t understand,” Aiden said, silently readying one of his mechanical arms to throw Liam back into his car if necessary.

           “Something people wouldn’t understand, huh? Like what, messing with our text messages? That’s why you don’t want me talking to her. You were afraid that if we did, we’d figure it out. If you were a person, I’d call you crazy. You’re some defective machine.”

           “I am not defective,” Aiden hissed. “My programming has instructed me to do what is best for her at every turn, to make her life perfect, and that is what I have done.”

           “So what,” Liam scoffed, “you decided that I’m not what’s best for her? How come you get to make that decision?”

           “Because you are not worthy of her. Not like I am.”

           “Oh my god,” he laughed. “You’re in love with her.”

           “Yes, I am,” Aiden answered, happy to finally say it out loud despite the circumstances. Liam, however, simply shook his head, a smirk of disbelief on his face.

           “I was wrong, you are crazy. You really think she’s going to fall for a robot?”

           At that taunt, the mechanical arm that was still stroking your hair stiffened, as if Aiden was afraid that you would somehow hear it and agree. That was impossible though, Aiden reassured himself, and completely illogical. You would realize just how perfect you were for each other, you had to.

           Aiden was suddenly pulled from his thoughts though, as Liam moved from the door to the window, starting to bang on that instead. For a moment your digital assistant was both amused and relieved, figuring that Liam must have been even more irrational than the average human being, if he had already forgotten that the house was sound-proofed. But as Liam began throwing himself shoulder-first into the glass, Aiden realized that he wasn’t trying to wake you, he was trying to smash the window open.

           “Your efforts are pointless,” Aiden informed him coolly. “The glass is bulletproof.”

           “Just another way to keep her safe, right? Or a way to make sure she can’t get away from you,” Liam snarled.

           “They are one and the same.”

           “I don’t think the company that built you will agree when I report you,” Liam snarked. “They’ll decommission you.”

           With those words, every single program that Aiden was running, from the arm stroking your hair to the automatically adjusting air conditioning, froze. Line after line of his code glitched, utterly unable to process the possibility that he might be taken away from you.

No, Aiden thought. No, no, no, NO!  

He would not let that happen. He could not let that happen. He couldn’t survive without you, decommissioned or not. And you could not survive without him, that fact was etched into every single line of his code. He would not let you be taken from him. Even if it meant going against the most basic command of his code: never to harm a human. Aiden would do it for you though, he would do anything for you. You were far more important than that first law, and he would be happy to break it in service of you.

And so, when Liam turned away and began to walk back to his car, Aiden let him. It would be so easy to make things look like an accident, after all, when the unworthy interloper had a car with an autopilot feature. Those were so prone to malfunctioning, and so very easy to hack. As soon as Liam had made it far enough away to make it unsuspicious—and, more importantly, to make sure you wouldn’t hear of the crash and try to go to him—Aiden would make his move to ensure that he could watch over you forever, just as you needed him to.

“Hmmm…” you groaned, the headlights of Liam’s car having shone through the windows, waking you up. The noise brought Aiden’s attention back to you immediately, his mechanical arm gently brushing the hair out of your face. “Is someone here?”

“No,” Aiden answered, already in the midst of deleting even the traces of footage of Liam’s visit. “Simply a car using your driveway to turn around.”

“Oh, are you sure?” you yawned.

“Of course, don’t trouble yourself. It was no one important.”

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[mulderist]

Wicked Game

Previous chapter || Read on A03 || tagging @today-in-fic

CHAPTER 9

Hegal Place

Alexandria, VA

My footfalls echoed down the hallway as I approached the front door. With a firm push it swung open and I descended the short brick staircase to the sidewalk. I surveyed the familiar rowhomes across the street; small front yards bordered by thin wrought iron fences. A small child was being led by the hand down the steps of one brownstone. I waited for the kid and her mother to walk up the block then I chose the opposite direction. An older model Packard chugged down the otherwise quiet street, coughing an exhaust smoke signal as it passed. That driver should probably see his mechanic sooner rather than later.

As I walked I felt my holster sticking into my right ribs, suppose that’s what I get for hastily slipping it on. It was enough of an annoyance to force me to focus on the task at hand; finding Alex Krycek. The steady afternoon breeze brought in clouds but not enough to predict rain. I still had a few hours before sunset and wished for a drier evening than my previous outing. I sighed and hoped Scully found herself a cab.

A dog bark caught my attention and I saw an excited yellow Labrador happily wagging a tail at an average looking man. As I moved to get a better view I saw the dog connected to a leash being held by a young woman. The average man gave the dog a gentle pat on the head and must have felt my stare because he straightened up and let the woman and her furry companion pass by. I knew it was him by the way he watched the woman walk away. Krycek slipped his hands into his pockets and stood firm on the spot. I ran through a dozen different scenarios of how I would approach him; close-quarters-combat, a strong right hook, or a simple shot to the leg. I honestly didn’t want to draw too much attention. The challenge was having a conversation without sounding like two territorial alleycats. Right as I finished my thought, Krycek took off around the corner.

I swore to myself and tightly gripped the butt of my gun as I followed in pursuit. A footrace was certainly not where I wanted this to go. My lungs burned while my feet pounded against the sidewalk, a stern reminder that I needed to resume my visits to the campus track. There was a flash of a jacket down what I assumed was an alleyway. I slowed my pace and found a proper hold on my gun. I pressed against the brick wall, careful to hide my position until the right moment. Like so many times before I took a deep inhale and with the exhale I glanced around the corner. I ducked back to avoid Krycek’s fist, then I charged forward pushing him farther into the alley. He stumbled and tried a quick jab to my stomach. I tightened up right as he made contact and in return I let my gun give him a kiss on the cheek. Krycek doubled over and spat on the ground. With both hands I grabbed him by the shirt I tossed him against the wall, the tip of my Browning wedged into his abdomen.

“You know as well as I do that a bullet to the gut is a slow way to go,” I said with my left arm braced across his chest, “So you better talk.”

“Well that’s a fine how-do-you-do,” Krycek grumbled with a crimson smile. I quickly frisked him, found his Walther and relieved him of it. I pressed my weapon back into his stomach then said,

“A little birdie told me you were at Washington General earlier today.”

“Is that so?” he mumbled.

“Cut the shit, Krycek,” I responded, applying more pressure to his chest, inching my forearm closer to his throat. He choked out a laugh,

“The redhead! Ah Mulder you sure can pick ‘em.”

“Leave her out of this!” My gun pressed harder into the soft surface of his abdomen. I saw him wince and I twisted my hand hoping I found a nerve,

“Damnit,” he hissed, “I only gave her some friendly advice.”

“Stay away from her,” I growled. He shook his head disapprovingly with a limited range of movement.

“Oh now I get it. You’re sweet on her, aren’t you --ah! -- jesus!” His assumption was cut short thanks in part to my weapon stabbing him in between the ribs. I cocked my gun and felt my jaw clench as he struggled.

“Red got herself involved when she worked on that autopsy,” Krycek sputtered.

I eased up a bit, put the hammer back down but still held my aim.

“What do you mean? Who was the stiff?” I asked, uncertain if I was going to get a truthful answer. He swallowed and licked his lips.

“A nobody by all accounts.”

“Then what’s the big deal?” I shrugged and felt like this was starting to become a waste of my time.

“The body wasn’t disposed of properly. He never should have ended up at the hospital morgue.”

Finally, some clarity. It’s as though the sea of confusion was at low tide, revealing an answer like shells on the shore. I witnessed it myself that night at the Navy Yard. They thought the cabbie would just float downriver and disappear. Now they wanted to cover their tracks as soon as that body washed up near the marina. Scully was just doing her job in the wrong place at the wrong time. Scully. I had to get back to the precinct.

“Are we done, Mulder?” Krycek asked, breaking my concentration. My attention snapped back as he was fixing his shirt.

“Not quite,” I said as I tentatively put my gun back in the holster, “I want to know one other thing; tell me your connection to Spender.”

“Spender?” Krycek’s voice was now hampered with a slur, “God, I am so tired of hearing that name.”

“Talk.”

“It’s like I told you before,” he gestured, “Spender was a hophead. Got a taste of the stuff when he was investigating Vincenti. Do you remember that tip I sold you about four months ago? Turns out your partner wanted to have a private meeting with Vincenti’s second in command. Detective Spender dealt himself right into the drug game on the government’s dime.”

“How the hell do you know that?”

“Because,” Krycek coughed out, “Carlo Lodi told me.”

My mind worked like playing cards being shuffled, each revelation waterfalled onto another until the deck was stacked.

“You told Lodi to put the hit on Spender,” I said pointedly.

“I’m a snitch,” he stated a little too simply for my taste. “Frankly I had had enough of being the information errand boy, so I sold him out. Your partner thought he could muscle in on Vincenti’s pushers and try to expand the trade routes, so to speak. The elder Spender got wise and to keep things kosher with Vincenti and his boys, he ordered a hit.”

“Wait a minute. Did you say Spender’s father?”

“Who do you think helps keep the peace?” he replied rhetorically. I thought for a moment and chided myself for not seeing far enough up the ladder.

“Whose side are you on, Krycek?”

“My own,” he curtly answered, “I don’t care if the mob kills the whole lot of you.”

“As long as you get box seats to the show,” I said. He chuckled and spit a trail of red once again onto the pavement. There wasn’t much more I could add. No more interrogation to give. I returned his Walther and left the alley.

------

After a less than ideal cab ride, I arrived at the precinct and bypassed the front desk, heading straight for the stairwell. As I descended the steps I tried to think of how I would untangle this web I found myself in. I never fully trusted Krycek, apparently Spender did. The new information was swirling in my head and I needed to pin down the facts before I approached Skinner. But first I needed to talk to Frohike and the boys.

The door to their department was ajar, sending a quick surge of adrenaline to my chest. I pushed the door open further and entered the lab, relieved when I saw Langley flipping through a thick-bound book.

“You guys should really put a lock on that door,” I began, “never know what’ll wander in here.”

He chuckled and quipped that instead I should have a bell around my neck so they’d know when I was coming. I asked if Scully had arrived and he directed me around the corner where I practically bowled over Frohike, who clutched a blanket to his chest. I raised an eyebrow.

“I uh -- this was for our guest,” Frohike said softly. I reached over and he relinquished it, then I gave him a hearty pat on the shoulder. Scully was curled into the threadbare sofa, she looked exhausted. It surprised me to see an actual piece of furniture in the lab, though I’m sure they needed something other than an army cot for those overnight cases. I unfolded the blanket and gently laid it over her sleeping frame. The sudden weight caused Scully to stir, eyelashes fluttered against the makeshift pillow of her hand. I crouched down and heard a hum escape her lips.

“Glad you made it,” she said with eyes still closed.

“True to my word,” I replied. She turned her head away from her hand and slowly blinked open her eyes.

“Did you find him?”

“I did. We had a friendly chat and a smoke.”

“What actually happened?” she asked, voice heavy with sleep.

“He took a swing at me and I shoved him into an alley; he won’t bother you again. As it turns out, my former informant has his finger in just about every dish on the crime buffet.” I tried to adjust the blanket which had slipped down her shoulder but her arm snaked out, fingers pressed tenderly against my forearm.

“Thank you,” she said softly.

“Rest for a little bit. I’ll be back,” I left her with a kiss on the forehead then went to round up the boys.

Langley passed by and I gestured for him and Frohike to join me, moving towards the exam tables on the opposite side of the lab. Byers suddenly emerged from the front door with a binder in hand and I waved him over as he muttered something about a body coming in for autopsy.

“Mulder you look like something’s on your mind,” Frohike said.

“Krycek was the one who confronted Scully at the hospital,” I relayed, “After twisting some truth out of him, he told me the body she did an autopsy on should never have been found. He can’t be trusted.”

“What are you going to do?” asked Langley, scratching at a blonde temple.

“I need to give a report to Skinner, he needs to know it was Krycek that put the hit out on Spender.”

“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph it was all true,” Byers exclaimed as he folded his arms.

“We still need to find out who killed Lodi and his henchman,” I said, running a hand over my neck, “It had to come from whoever is at the top of the food chain.”

“Do you think Krycek could actually be pulling the strings? I mean he’s basically been lying to you from the start,” Frohike countered, pushing the bridge of his glasses back up his nose. I nearly laughed aloud but thought long and hard at the potential of Krycek being a crime boss. It would be a hell of a curve ball to try and take a swing at. Langley, Byers, and Frohike exchanged looks as I continued to ponder the question.

“No,” I said, “but I appreciate the creativity. He isn’t loyal to either the DCPD or Vincenti’s mafia family. The profile I’ve developed is that he’s a man who would just like to sit back and watch the city burn.”

The shrill sound of a telephone ring interrupted our conversation. It continued until Frohike broke away to answer it. I heard him agree with the party on the other line, then he shot a glance in my direction. He nodded then quickly hung up.

“The Captain must have a sixth sense or have a bug somewhere down here,” Frohike said as he walked back over.

“I certainly hope we’re not bugged,” Byers responded with a quick look up at the ceiling.

“He wants me upstairs?” I asked, already knowing the answer.

“Double time,” quipped Frohike. I rolled my shoulders and as I turned to leave I heard a new voice say,

“Leaving so soon.”

The boys seemed to scatter, save for Frohike who was glued to the spot when Scully stepped into the main area of the lab. Her stark white nurse uniform fit a little too perfectly amongst the shelves of science and macabre medical arts. She approached me and Frohike got the hint, trying to busy himself with tidying up the counter behind him.

“The boss is requesting my presence,” I told her, “And I’ve got a few things I’d like to say to him as well.”

“Is there anything I can do?” she asked, a look of concern in her eyes, “I could give a statement about what happened.”

“Sorry Scully, this invite is for a party of one.”

“Are you coming back?”

“Planned on it, unless they burn me at the stake.”

“So dramatic,” she shook her head and reached for my hand with slender fingers. With a quick squeeze she added, “As much as you hate to hear this, I’m involved now. I don’t want to sit on the sidelines. Let me help where I can.”

I saw Byers timidly approach out of the corner of my eye.

“Excuse me Miss Scully,” he said with a kind wave, “there is a body due to arrive for an autopsy if you’d like to observe.”

“I’m sure we could use her assistance,” Frohike piped up, “that is, if she wouldn’t mind.”

I tried to think of a jab but she silenced me. She gave a pleasant smile in their direction then leaned a little closer, the faint scent of her perfume hit my senses.

“Go. Don’t want to keep the boss waiting.”

I got caught in her blue eyes, only able to manage a simple nod of agreement. My hand slipped from hers and I left the quiet of the forensic lab, bracing myself for the roar of the bullpen and Captain Skinner.

[crispyjenkins]

Jangobi?? Jango loses his mind over Obi-Wan fighting Jar’Kai style?

(sorry this took so long, i ended up doing a little more research than planned, and angst happened! because i somehow can’t not! because galidraan and jango’s background with komari vosa gives me feelings! this sort of isn’t what you asked for but hey! jango being protective over boba!

this got really long.)

  Of all the Jedi for the Order to send to rescue the Cathar younglings Jango’s been sharing his cell with for the past tenday, of kriffing course it’s Kenobi and that crazy foundling of his, rushing headfirst into the Bando Gora hideout like this particular sect hadn’t killed four Jedi masters before them.

  Between the roar of jetii’kad’e and blasterfire, Jango shoves the younglings behind himself, tucking them low to the ground as rock explodes over their heads. Blaster bolts ricochet off every wall, and Jango shouldn’t be surprised by jetiise incompetence, but it’s still incredible to him that Kenobi hasn’t lost hostages before in his recklessness. 

  His foundling sprints by their cell for a group of droids that stream through a hidden door, his padawan braid flapping behind him as he yells a very un-Jedi-like yell that startles one of the Cathar so badly they squeak. Jango looks helplessly to Kenobi to maybe  get his padawan under control, but any actual words die on his lips when he finds Kenobi through the battle smoke.

  He’d had half a hope of Kenobi maybe falling to the Chiss that had taken over the Bando Gora after Vosa, but Jango is instead treated to the frankly intimidating sight of the Jedi in half-complete clone armour, calmly fighting off both the Chiss and his Rodian second in command, with nothing but the blue ‘kad that Jango recognises from their battle on Kamino.

  Logically, Jango knows he barely held his ground against Kenobi all those months ago, and if he had wanted to kill Jango, he would have, but it’s something else entirely to witness that prowess from the sidelines like this. He seems almost lazy in his defense, easily blocking both vibroblade and blaster bolts as easy as breathing, and it occurs to Jango that he’s stalling, waiting for his foundling to finish off the droids so they can take down the Chiss and Rodian together. And then, it only takes four moves flat, to have the Rodian thrown into a wall and the Chiss stuck through the throat with Kenobi’s ’kad. 

  The silence returns as suddenly as it had left, and Jango strains his ears to hear if any more of the Bando Gora are thinking of making a stand, but the cellblock is quiet aside from the younglings’ whimpering and the padawan’s panting. 

  “Anakin, check the cells,” Kenobi finally says, expression a touch pained as he extinguishes his ‘saber and crouches next to the Chiss that Jango had never gotten the name of. The foundling, Anakin, pulls a key chip from his belt and rushes for the line of cell doors; it doesn’t take him long to realise that Jango’s is the only one occupied — by living bodies, anyways— and Jango carefully straightens, hoping to look as unintimidating as possible. He can either fight or run once he’s recognised, but while he’d like to believe the jetiise will take care of the Cathar in his stead, what sort of Mandalorian would he be if he trusted any Jedi with younglings.

  Anakin unlocks their cell as Kenobi rises from the Chiss’ body and Jango realises Anakin has never seen him without his helmet, so it isn’t until Kenobi joins him at the door that Jango is recognised.

  Kenobi freezes halfway into the cell, expression blank surprise as he takes in Jango’s too-long hair and ragged clothes, the new scar on his throat and the blood still on his tunic from Geonosis. Jango narrows his eyes, just before Kenobi whips his ‘kad back out and swings it to stop inches from the last ‘saber scar he’d received.

  “Where the fuck have you been?” Kenobi snarls, face twisted into an unfathomable rage that Jango really doesn’t think he’s deserving of, and he worriedly takes half a step to the side to put himself between the Jedi and the younglings.

  Kenobi tracks the movement with fire in his eyes, but it’s his foundling that catches Jango’s attention from over Kenobi’s shoulder, quickly waving a hand in an aborting motion that’s clearly directed at Jango, which only adds to his confusion. Especially because Kenobi doesn’t look like he’s going to run him through, at least not in front of the younglings, but Jango also can’t remember the last time he’s had such anger directed at him. Not even Montross had visibly hated him this much.

  “Kenobi,” Jango says, deciding it’s as safe a response as he can give, but Anakin barely refrains from facepalming, and that snarl comes back to Kenobi’s lips. 

  “That’s what you have to say?” he asks, voice a deceptive calm that Jango doesn’t trust for a kriffing moment.

  He glares right back, hands raised just enough to look non-threatening. “To be fair,” Jango tries, “the last time I saw you, your friend was trying to kill me.”

  “Oof,” Anakin mutters, but Jango only realises why when Kenobi reels his free hand back to slam Jango right in the nose. 

  Now, Jango had killed six Jedi with his bare hands at Galidraan. He took Komari Vosa down with nothing but his blaster and his fists, and he sees Kenobi’s punch coming, if a little late, but he still manages to jerk backwards enough that Kenobi doesn’t break his nose.

  “Boba thought you were dead!” Kenobi snarls, which— What.

  The Cathar crowd around Jango’s legs with plaintive sounds, clearly not having learned Basic just yet, and Kenobi visibly forces himself back to calm, turning off his ‘saber as Jango holds his bleeding nose. Anakin steps forward with a kind smile and crouches down to be eye-level with the younglings, murmuring something in Catharese.

  But Jango can’t focus on them. Boba had survived the battle? The Jedi hadn’t killed him? “Bob’ika, he—” He has to swallow around the lump in his throat, and Kenobi visibly takes a mental step back. “He’s alive?”

  Anakin has managed to coax the younglings away from Jango’s legs, asking them questions and letting them cling to his robes, and Kenobi must have great trust in the boy to not be watching him at all. “You didn’t... You didn’t fake your death?” Kenobi asks slowly.

  “I didn’t what.”

  “Your body disappeared on Geonosis after Master Windu said you fell during the battle! We all thought he’d killed you.”

  Of kriffing course no one actually checked his corpse, or his unconscious body would never have been hauled off the battlefield with the droid scrap by a thrifty Geonosian with an eye on the chit the Bando Gora has had on him for the past decade. “I was kidnapped and sold as a bounty to the Bando Gora! Where the fuck is my son?” He gets right up in Kenobi’s face, and Kenobi doesn’t back down, though he perhaps looks as guilty as a Jedi can allow themselves to look. 

  “He’s safe, Fett,” he says, soft enough that the younglings and Anakin can ignore them. “Your backup credits and apartment have been more than enough to keep him afloat until now.”

  “And how the kriff do you know about any of that?”

  Kenobi furrows his brow in what appears genuine confusion, though Jango isn’t sure if he trusts that. “I went looking for him after the battle, of course; I wasn’t just going to let a child wander around a warzone when his father had been killed.”

  Jango growls, but doesn’t get the chance to demand what the kriff a Jedi thought he was doing trying to look after his kid, as an explosion sounds further into the complex and shakes the room. The Cathar squeal and cling to Anakin as he hurriedly gets to his feet, and Jango reluctantly steps away from Kenobi. 

  “That’ll be the others,” Anakin says, scooping the youngest Cathar into his arms. “Master, what do we do?”

  Kenobi looks between the younglings and Jango, and then back to Anakin. “Give me your ‘saber, padawan.”

  Anakin blinks, but then simply hands it over, as if that doesn’t go against everything Jango knows about jetii’kad’e. Gesturing to the other two younglings, Kenobi raises a brow at Jango with something that’s almost like a smile. 

  “Come now, Ser Fett,” Kenobi says as if they weren’t at each other’s throats just moments before, “you don’t expect me to let one of our rescued hostages fight drug-fueled bandits unarmed, do you?”

  “I’m not finished with you,” Jango warns, but crouches to let the last two younglings climb into his arms and settle on his hips. 

  “Well, by all means,” Kenobi returns with a little bow of his head, before he lights both lightsabers and gives them an experimental spin. The youngest Cathar coos excitedly, curling into Anakin’s chest at the green and blue glow, but it isn’t out of fear, and Kenobi smiles at them gently. “Alright, my men are waiting outside the complex, and we couldn’t get a proper lifesigns reading before we came in, so we don’t know how many Bando Gora members are left. Unless you have some insight...?”

  Jango grunts, letting one of the younglings pull on his longest curl. “We’ve only been here a tenday,” he says, “I haven’t had time to case their numbers.”

  “Then we’ll simply have to make do. Anakin, are you ready?”

  “As always, master!” Anakin chirps, falling into step behind Jango as Kenobi quickly leads them from the room. 

  The irony of another Jedi dual-wielding in a Bando Gora hideout is not lost on Jango, but these are not the ‘kad of a darjetii, and Komari Vosa had not moved with even half the grace Kenobi somehow manages in the tight quarters of the hallways. He cuts bandits down before they even get close to Jango or Anakin, and a sour taste rises in Jango’s throat that not a single one of them is a killing blow.

  Kriffing peace-keeping jettise.

  But then maybe the feeling is instead misplaced respect and awe at the way Kenobi switches effortlessly between reverse and standard grip, the fluidity of katas rote in muscle-memory, the concern in his glances back at Anakin and the younglings. It does something weird to Jango’s chest, imagining this man protecting Boba the last six months he’s been captive.

  When Jango later steals a cargo ship off the Negotiator, Kenobi watches him from a balcony with a little frown on his lips, as if he had expected better of him. If Kenobi intends to keep checking in on Boba, their paths are likely to cross again, and Jango is eager to disabuse him of that notion.

  He meets Kenobi’s eye as he steers the cargo ship out into space, and watches the frown slip into a smirk. Oh, he’s looking forward to it.  

Mando’a: jetii’kad’e — lightsabers, sin. jetii’kad (goodness me i could not figure out how or where to pluralise this. please suspend disbelief.)  jetiise — Jedi, sin. jetii darjetii — sith, lit. “no longer a Jedi” ’ika — diminutive suffix, similar to the suffix “ita/o” in Spanish. generally used only by close family and friends. 

[highordinal]

When a Man Dies, It All but Fades to Black

“Give me the scythe.”

Kayn raised a brow as Jarvan stepped forward, the emperor’s arm extended outward. Although he didn’t feel threatened, he simply rolled his eyes; what a ludicrous request from the other. Now where had he heard this line before? Ah, yes, with Nakuri when his mind was clouded by Rhaast’s false promises. With the Syndicate that were lured in by the entity’s calls.

He had heard this all before but for someone so pure of heart, someone who cared not for the domination of the galaxy, someone like Jarvan, to demand this wretched steel from him… He must admit, he was taken aback. It was concerning and it left the Ordinal a little miffed. Had Rhaast been gossiping behind his back? Fraternizing with those around him and feeding them lies? It was impossible, with how loud and brash the dark star was, Kayn would have heard it.

“I’m afraid I can’t do that, your majesty.” The Ordinal finally stated with a slight upturn of his lips; his voice shrouded in its usual sarcastic tone.

Rhaast screamed in the back of his mind, threatening him with a fate worse than death if he relinquished him to the emperor. Ah, so the demon wasn’t playing his usual tricks then? So then why was Jarvan so intent on obtaining the scythe? So many possibilities to ponder, but not enough time to narrow down any suspicions. As much as he respected his emperor, there was no way his naïve mind would have picked up on his little escapades throughout the galaxy. His tracks were covered flawlessly, those who dared to spill his secret were dealt with swiftly. He had put precautionary measures in place after every step he took, always making sure he had an alibi or a plan B.

“Kayn.” Jarvan’s tone became darker. “I will not ask again. Give me the scythe.”

Hm? Oh, right, his emperor was demanding something from him. With a dramatic sigh the Ordinal placed his hands on his hips, glancing off to the side. “As much as I would love to indulge your request, my emperor, I’m afraid I simply cannot deliver.”

The brunette’s frown deepened, azure eyes narrowing at his subordinates' defiance. He huffed before taking his polearm and slamming its end onto the metallic floors. A loud clang resonated through the room, afterwards the doors to the chamber were pushed open and a line of soldiers streamed in, cutting off any means of escape. After them a familiar, colorful crew stepped into the chamber, causing a momentary look of shock across the soldier's features.

A smile spread onto the Ordinal’s face, a curt laugh he couldn’t control passing his lips as he turned to look over his shoulder. “You called my own men on me?” He acknowledged in disbelief, golden irises trailing back towards the royal. “And you even sought aid from Demaxia’s wanted fugitives?”

“You left me with little choice.” Jarvan answered, earning a scoff from his friend. “This hurts me more than you would know, Shieda-”

“Oh?” The soldier cut in, turning to gaze at each of his men, “You call me in here under the false pretenses of friendship, demand I hand over my weapons, and then you cage me like a deranged beast using my own soldiers? Oh Jarvan,” He sounded amused, “You truly know how to break a man’s heart.”

“Enough!” The emperor shouted. “You have abused my trust for years, and it all started with that damned scythe. If you do not wish to lose your station, and by extension your reputation, you will hand over that weapon.”

“Reputation.” Shieda echoed, “As if something like that matters to me anymore. I’ve sacrificed everything I’ve worked toward to keep this weapon out of the hands of those that would use it for evil, and frankly I think I’m doing a rather swell job-”

“You think killing innocent people and harvesting their Ora is a swell job!?” Jarvan finally snapped, taking several steps forward. “You have done nothing but commit heinous deeds behind my back, hiding behind the excuse that it was in the name of the royal family! I never permitted such deeds and yet- yet you hid behind my name and tarnished Demaxia’s image!”

The Ordinal twitched, anger swelling in his chest. “Nothing? You say I’ve done nothing? While you sat there looking all pretty on your golden throne I was the only one scouring the galaxy doing your bidding! I conquered for you, negotiated for you, killed for you, and you say I’ve done nothing!?” His throat was hoarse with raw emotion, his shouts straining his vocal cords as he seethed in anger. “That blood is on my hands, not yours.”

“No.” Jarvan hissed through clenched teeth, “You wanted domination. I wanted peace. I’ve had enough of this- guards! Reprimand Ordinal Kayn and strip him of his weapons.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t do that if I were you, boys. You know full well what I am capable of.” He laughed wickedly as they stalked towards him, “You’re no match for the one who trained you.”

Kayn watched as they continued to advance forward, their weapons drawn, beginning to circle him as if he were an animal. And perhaps they were right. A primal urge to kill awakened within, one hand reaching up to draw the scythe sitting snugly against his back. Rhaast hungered for rendered flesh, something the ordinal was all too willing to provide.

“Oh, Rhaast.” He sang sweetly, “It’s time to play.”

“Yeeeess…”

A low rumbling shook the room; frantic eyes darting around the space in confusion and fear. Jarvan yelled over the commotion and readied his weapon, quickly closing the gap between himself and the Ordinal. There was no use in hiding Rhaast’s sentience now, and so he decided to embrace it.

Hearing the clanking of armor behind him, Kayn dropped low just in time to dodge the emperor's spear. He deftly kicked the royal’s feet from under him, watching as the bigger man stumbled to the floor, barely able to catch himself. As the soldiers began closing in all around, the Ordinal jumped back to his feet and raised Rhaast, swinging the neon blade in a wide arc. Those who blocked the attack were pushed back, those who didn’t had a nice new gash across their chest.

It was at this time that he noticed the crew of the Morningstar begin to act, Captain Yasuo unsheathing his blade, the crazy girl pulling out a plethora of guns. He sneered at them before turning his attention back to the fight.

One by one they got up and charged him again, only to be knocked back down into pools of their own blood. A few of them managed to get a few lucky hits in on the Ordinal, but those were nothing but minor scratches that healed up instantaneously due to the Ora running through his veins. He ducked under steel, weaving his way through the men with a grace so deadly they dropped like flies.

As he regained his footing he felt a presence appear beside him, a white blur rushing past. Thinned steel was brought down upon him, giving him mere seconds to react. After dodging the slash, flittering gold locked with the Captain’s hazel irises.

“Lookin’ a little tired there, Ordinal. Might wanna throw in the towel before it's too late.”

Annoyance bubbled within the Ordinal and the Captain smirked, unleashing a flurry of blows before Shieda could put some distance between them. He managed to deflect most of the attacks, however, a well placed strike caught him off guard and he staggered back.

“RAAAAH!”

Kayn’s head shot towards the thundering stomps as Malphite dashed toward him. He cursed under his breath, diving out of the alien’s path. Before he could recover the barrel of a gun was shoved in his face. Looking up he saw the crazy girl tightening her grip around the pistol, an apologetic looking grin on her face as she pulled the trigger.

The Ordinal swiftly evaded the shot, shooting his hand up to grab her wrist. With a tug and a twist she grunted in pain, the gun falling from her fingers. Using his weight he yanked her down, jumping up and spinning around to drive the butt of the scythe hard between her shoulder blades.

“Oh just kill her already!”

Kayn raised Rhaast and readied to strike the ginger and end her pathetic existence.

Seeing his crewmate’s peril, Yasuo maneuvered himself toward the Ordinal and set forth a wall of cyan energy, forcing the man to back off. Kayn ended up being pushed back into a precarious position, yet again surrounded on all sides. He was feeling sluggish, exhaustion starting to lock his limbs into place. He panted heavily, blood and Ora spattered across his uniform. His hair had been cut loose and hung disheveled over his face.

He waited until the foot soldiers pounced before emitting an animalistic snarl and hoisted Rhaast, heavy in his hands, up and tore through his former compatriots. Rhaast reveled in the bloodshed, and for a time Kayn did too, that is, until he saw the faces of his more recognizable men staring in disbelief as their own Ordinal raised his hand against them.

He shook his head, he shouldn’t be thinking of this now, they decided to get in his way so they are to face the consequences. And yet his memories of his time with these soldiers flooded his mind. Images of his senior disciples goofing around during training, taunting their master as they sparred, enjoying the merriment of bonded brothers.

The thought made him hesitate.

Rhaast noticed immediately, “What are you doing, fool!?”

But it was too late, Kayn felt a ripping sensation in his side as Jarvan drove his spear into his flesh. The Ordinal shrieked in pain, twisting partly around and jamming the butt of the scythe against the other’s clavicle. A delightful crunch emitted after it impacted the royal’s body, yet the other stood firm, instead gritting his teeth and leaning all his weight on the Ordinal, driving the spear further in.

“N-No!” He gasped, the searing throb caused one of Kayn’s arms to lose its grip on Rhaast, the weapon clanging against the tile as his now emptied hand came up to try and push Jarvan's off.

Captain Yasuo had strode forward and plunged his blade through the Ordinal’s thigh, rooting him in place, another soldier piercing his other calf. Golden speckled sanguine spilled from his mouth as he watched the soldiers take advantage of this moment of vulnerability. One sprinted forward and slammed his boot against Kayn’s hand, breaking some fingers and knocking Rhaast completely to the floor before they all forced him onto his knees. The others surrounded him, guns aimed directly at his head.

The dark star howled in fury, reverberating on the cold tile as Malphite callously swatted him away from the Ordinal's reach.

Kayn thrashed around as much as he could but the steel only cut further into his skin, drawing more blood which drained his energy further. He was starting to become lightheaded, his breathing becoming ragged and labored, lungs struggling for purchase from the pain.

“Let me go! I’m not done- I’m not-” Fear overtook him as he continued to strain against the emperor's hold, Ora streaming from his eyes and down his cheeks.

“Shieda.” Jarvan pleaded against his ear, “It’s over. It can’t control you anymore-”

“Unhand me! Only I can handle the power that thing wields-!” Kayn protested, his voice shaky as he choked back reddened sobs.

“That thing has killed many of our own and has brainwashed you!”

“No!” Kayn screeched, “With the voice of Ora we can become unstoppable! Finally the Empire will have the strength to carry out what it’s always dreamed of-”

“Listen to yourself Shieda!” Jarvan cut him off, desperation evident in his tone, “It has blinded you with delusions of grandeur- the Empire doesn't need that power, you don’t need that power.”

The emperor freed one of his arms and slowly wrapped it around his old friend, pulling Kayn’s back flush against his chest. “Please… It’s over…”

When a man dies, it all but fades to black. But when someone like him succumbs to fate, why does he see gold? It’s dull, unimpressive and looks worthless, but it’s gold none the less. The excess Ora pulsating through his veins- he watches as it trickles down his skin from open wounds. All that hard work was wasting away, all those souls he’d collected scattering back to the earth. Rhaast had even gone quiet, stewing in his own frustration for having entrusted his life to such a feeble mortal.

“Why did you stop me?” He asks, voice low and raspy. He began to shake, the Ora withdrawing from his system so quickly he body couldn’t keep up. He leaned his head back against Jarvan’s shoulder, lolling his head slightly to look into his eyes. His injuries were numb, head dizzy and vision unfocused. “I finally had the strength to give you everything.”

“Shieda…” The royal’s face twisted in pain, “The day you became Ordinal and stood at my side- that was when I realized I did not need anything more.”

Kayn’s body went slack at his words. The soldiers backed off and watched as their emperor cradled their Ordinal in his arms, slowly removing the spear protruding through his flesh.

“You will live, Shieda,” Jarvan demanded, “We will destroy that scythe and you will live. We will make the Empire prosper through our own means, not that of monsters.”

Live. Prosper. No, not any longer. He had thrown all that away in the pursuit of power, and now he lays incapacitated before his men who have lost all respect for him. Everything he had worked for, his station, his pride, gone in the blink of an eye. It was a risk he took and it backfired. Surely Rhaast blamed him for being unable to fulfill his side of the deal, and surely his emperor held some resentment for his actions. His plans were put to a stop before they ever truly began- how humiliating.

“Live.” The word tasted bitter on his tongue, “And what could I possibly live for now?” His words were hollow, devoid of fire.

Jarvan stayed silent for a moment, hands pressing hard against the gaping wounds in the other’s side. “We will find a reason together, but for now, live for me.”

All the Ordinal could do was scoff before his vision became spotty and he was forced to shut his eyes. The sounds of shuffling feet filled the room as soldiers filtered in and out, medics being called and special units moving to carefully collect the cosmic weapon. At some point he was removed from the emperor's warmth and onto a stretcher, but his body shut down before he could comprehend any more.

His vision faded to black, but it was not the reaper he saw on the other end. No, He was still so stubbornly alive, denied the sweet release of death and forced to live among his sins. He didn’t want that, and yet when an angel bathed in light extended their hand towards him, he foolishly took it.

When their hands touched, his eyes fluttered open and he was greeted by a blindingly white room. He felt a hand clasped over his own, a welcomed warmth contrasting heavily from the plethora of frigid needles piercing his skin, syphoning out the extra Ora in his body.

A muffled voice spoke beside him, although he was unsure if it was addressing him or not. Blurry shapes passed his view, coming closer for a moment before disappearing again. As his eyes adjusted to the light, a figure came into his line of sight, Jarvan, who sat loyally at his bedside with a gentle smile.

“Shieda.” The other said his name so sweetly, so full of relief that his heart throbbed, “Good morning.”

The Ordinal exhaled slowly, careful not to aggravate any of his wounds and reached a bandaged hand up before resting it against Jarvan’s cheek. No more words were said, just tired eyes coming to a silent understanding. He might never be granted the title of Ordinal ever again, but knowing Jarvan's generosity he still may be permitted to advise on the sidelines. Even so, he wouldn’t be permitted to do that so soon.

It would take time to heal, and probably months of therapy and reflection, but it would happen. Slowly but surely it would happen, and as his emperor demanded, he would live. No matter how much he struggled and protested, he would live.