#do you think that besides his own knowledge of how it felt to be replaced he was worried about isolating suga

[runayachi]

okay so you know when takeda manages to get ukai to come watch karasuno play for the first time and kagehina show off their freak quick and ukai is like "sensei how long have those two been paired together" and takeda is like "oh kageyama and hinata? they just met this year i've heard it was rocky at first but they're getting along well now" and ukai is like "what a shame". do you think he goes home and looks into them and finds out that kageyama's the lonely king and that his teammates abandoned him. do you think he looks and looks for hinata but can't find him until finally he stumbles across a no-name school that barely had a volleyball team and their only match lasted 31 minutes. do you think he wonders about how lonely they were. a coach can't replace teammates but do you think he decides to try and make sure that no one on his team feels lonely again.

[messrmoonyy]

can I ask for maybe in the time timeline of the show but reader is in Laylas place when they head for the tomb? Maybe reader and Steven talk about how Marc left resder, then they have the kiss at the dig site etc? Thank you messr

Kisses in Cairo

Steven Grant x Reader , Marc Spector x Reader

Not my gif. Saved from google

A/n- hello sweet! This was actually super fun. I adore Layla so it was sad to replace her kinda 😂but it was still fun! Enjoy <3

Warnings- none

Word count- 4.1k

Masterlist- requests open for hcs, drabbles and one shots

Reblogs and comments are always appreciated!

Your hands were gripping the steering wheel so tightly your knuckles had turned white. Trying to process the events of the last few hours and the new knowledge that Marc seemingly had no intentions of returning home to you.

Or the fact that Stevens words, though only pointing out the obvious fact that Marc had in fact already disappeared from your life, stung a little more than you let on.

The way Steven kept glancing towards the wing mirror you knew he was clearly still arguing Marc, being some kind of bratty little kid by the looks of it.

“ whatever his suit was his best feature wasn’t it? “ it wasn’t entirely the truth. In fact far from it. But getting a few of your own hits in on your husband felt quite deserved. He’d hurt you plenty. It was your turn now. No matter how petty that felt “ plus I know him. He’d wanna go and lone wolf this whole thing… we’re not gonna let him do that “ you said smugly, turning to Steven with an even smugger smile “ are we? “

Steven seems just as smug with your answer, talking to the mirror and not you with his response “ no. We’re not “ You knew Marc would be fuming. But that was the main reason you’d said it. It was your turn to piss him off “ just you. Me. And the open road “ you gave a small nod and kept your eyes focussed on the road.

If you were honest, you actually quite liked spending time with Steven too. So that was a bonus in the entire situation. Killing two birds with one stone as it were.

Last night at been a strange one in terms of Steven. You’d seen him in a new light. Different than the stuttering and terrified man you’d picked up outside the storage company. More like the small moment when he’d told you about hieroglyphs, or spoken French poetry as though he were fluent.

And then last night? The way he’d done a double take as you’d sat beside him in the sand, frozen and did what he did best when he was stuck in what to say. Reeled off facts. But that look…

It sent butterflies erupting in your stomach, your heart pounding so loud you’d almost worried he’d hear it. You’d been trying your best not to think about what it meant, even though deep down you already knew. You’d been in love before, you were already in love with Marc. You knew what those butterflies meant when you looked at someone. But it was a confusing one. Because it was Marc you were looking at it but…. It wasn’t.

You were still learning and understanding exactly what went on inside Marcs head, where Steven had come from and how he had managed to hide away this entire other person from you. Part of you had wondered if you had ever actually met Steven before. Or if Marc had managed to keep him away when he was around you. You were pretty sure you hadn’t met him before. He was so different to Marc you’d absolutely have noticed. Even to glance across at him now you knew it was Steven. They shared a face, a body, and yet somehow they looked different.

“ Marc’s a bit of a knob isn’t he? “ Steven said suddenly and you scoffed at that, shaking yourself free from your ever confusing thoughts. Realising you’d reached as far as you could go with the car, you pulled to a halt and killed the engine.

“ we need to walk from here “ you said instead of answering him and turned to Steven. He was already watching you intently, blushing and looking away when you caught him. He did that a lot. Looked at you. It was odd because Marc never looked at you like that. Marc loved you, you knew he did. But he didn’t look at you like that.

Steven looked at you as if you were the most beautiful woman on the planet. As if the gods he knew so much about had crafted you themselves and placed you before him. The sun, the moon and every other planet combined. And he was just there, floating, stuck in your orbit but seemingly not in any rush to leave.

It was nice. After spending so long wrestling Marc and his emotions, it was nice to be… appreciated. To be seen.

“ right walk. Yeah perfect “ you got out of the car, rounding to the back and sorting out what you needed to take with you.

“ and yes he is “ you said finally answering his question. He gave you an odd look “ a knob “

“ oh “ Steven gave a little chuckle, watching you as you unzipped the bags to check the contents “ yet you married him? “ you raised an eyebrow at that. Steven was being awfully sassy and to the point today. You were quite impressed by it actually. It was a far cry from how he had been when you’d first met.

“ he wasn’t always a knob. He can actually be a romantic when he thinks about it hard enough “ the Marc you’d been dealing with since tracking his phone didn’t seem to be that Marc though. That Marc seemed buried deep down somewhere, no longer willing to surface.

“ so when did you meet him then? Marc? “ Steven piped up again as you zipped up your bag and moved over to his. You quirked an eyebrow again at the sudden influx of Marc related conversation, especially after the conversation he’d clearly just had with Marc in the car himself.

“ you wanna talk about that? “

“ I mean you don’t have to. Just if you want. He don’t tell me anythin so “ he said with a slightly nervous chuckle that warmed your heart. Everything he did warmed your heart if you were honest. It was hard not to find him so endearing. So… lovely.

“ no we can talk about it. It’s okay “ you grabbed both the bags and handed his over before securing your own on your back. You were truly lacking on any form of weapons, you still had the gun you’d stolen but it was empty. And you had not even a single bullet to put into it. You tossed it back into the car with a sigh. You didn’t want to have to fight and you hoped it wouldn’t come down to that.

“ thank you “ he said softly and you began to walk, double checking the coordinates you’d managed to decode the previous night. The news was probably having a field day with that one, the sky changing right in front of their eyes. Though much stranger things had happened in recent years.

“ I met him in Cairo “ you said after a few moments. You didn’t have to look at Steven to know he was already watching you intently, always so interested in what you had to say “ I’d moved away when I was younger but. I wanted to feel closer to my dad, track down all the items he’d worked so tirelessly for that were on the black market. Steal back what had been stolen. Protect the archeologists “

Steven nodded as you spoke, hanging onto every single word.

“ so?..“

“ i was staking out a dig site one night, literally ran into him. Head first “ you had to laugh a little at that, shrugging “ he tracked me back to my apartment- because I let him. Then… never left each other after that. Helped him with his work with khonshu, we tracked down some of the stolen relics. It was fun. Moved to London a few years back when things were starting to get a bit too dangerous “ they’d reached a canyon and Steven looked a little nervous but with a gentle squeeze to his shoulder they continued through.

“ you let him? “ you shrugged wedging the toe of your boot into a nook on a dead tree blocking the way, boosting yourself over.

“ I did “ you reached down for Stevens hand, helping to hoist him up too “ what you really think he’d of found me otherwise? Pft “ Steven smiled and you cleared the other side, landing back on the dusty ground and helping Steven down too “ I work on the black market Steven, you learn to become invisible. Untraceable. He found me because I let him find me “

“ and why did you let him? “ he continued to probe. You shrugged again, remembering the night as clear as day. The strange figure in white who had taken down the group trying to attack the archeologists clearing the dig site, smacking into you after you’d taken down one of the would be robbers trying to steal a relic. He’d vanished as fast as he’d arrived. But you knew he’d gotten a good look at you. And you were curious.

“ someone else was protecting dig sites and archaeologists. And wearing a silly suit. I was intrigued “ you pulled the scribbled out directions from your pocket and your compass. Just to check you were still going the right way. All the talk of Marc was actually starting to make your heart ache. You missed him you weren’t going to deny that. You missed the Marc you knew.

The Marc who was funny. Who woke you up by smothering you with kisses when he was in a good mood, the Marc who you went on adventures with and protected dig sites with. The Marc that married you. Not the Marc you had argued with a few hours ago. Not the Marc that had run off and abandoned you.

“ when did you fall in love with him?“ Steven asked quietly. You pondered on it for a while, taking a sip from the water bottle in your bag and offering it to him.

“ I think I loved him a few months after I met him? After that night we met we never really spent a day apart. You spend every day and night with a man like him and get yourself into some dangerous shit. It’s almost inevitable “

“ right right yeah “ he didn’t seem that happy to be talking about you falling for Marc, almost as though he regretted even asking you.

“ he’s really bad with his emotions though. It’s like trying to draw blood out of a stone sometimes “ Steven laughed at that “ When he wants to he’ll let his walls down. He’ll talk. But it’s a hell of a battle getting them down again once they’re up “

Some nights he was open with you, you recalled nights lying in bed in some dingy hotel room in god knows where. Finally talking about your emotions and feelings together, him confessing just how much he loved you. How grateful he was for you. Other nights you could barely get him to talk at all.

“ when’d you get married? “

“ 2 years in “ you said with a smile “ Marc Spector proposing can you believe it “ You’d come to the end of the canyon, a small wall needing to be scaled. Not too high, only a foot or so above your head “ give me a boost? “

Steven nodded and crouched down, locking his hands together and preparing to take your weight. You almost told him to switch places with you, forgetting he shared the same strength that Marc had. It was funny actually, how it was the same body yet somehow they looked different in the way they held themselves. Steven somehow not looking as strong and firm as Marc did.

He boosted you up the wall, pulling yourself to sit on top before reaching a hand down to Steven.

“ come on i got you. Gimme your hand “ he looked quite impressed when you managed to hoist him up too, he kept a hold of your hand as you sat there. Longer than necessary but quite frankly you didn’t want to let him go.

“ you’re strong “ Steven commented after a moment, glancing down at your hands. His thumb lightly traced over your bare ring finger, as if silently questioning where it was. ‘I’d never divorce you’ rang in your ears, what Steven had said when you’d stood there in his flat with the divorce papers. You let him go, rising to your feet again.

“ so uh. The proposal “ you cleared your throat, trying to suppress whatever the emotions were that had been creeping over you moments ago and continued your story “ he proposed to me with this soppy little speech you know. Didn’t know he had it in him “ Steven was listening raptly at your side again as you continued walking “ We got married 5 days later. Egyptian wedding with some of the Jewish traditions thrown in. It was odd, kind of a mish mash. But it was perfect to me. To us “

You didn’t think about your wedding much just lately. It really had been perfect. Fast and slightly messy. But perfect. You hadn’t even had a real wedding dress. But that didn’t matter. All that mattered was that you were both in love. And didn’t want to wait any longer.

You’d taken the ring off that day you’d returned home to find divorce papers on your bed. Thrown it across the room and not even bothered to search for it since. It was still there now, on the floor in your flat somewhere. The flat not 20 minutes from where he’d been hiding all along.

“ what about you though? “ you asked, squinting in the sun that was now high in the sky “ you were living this whole life without Marc weren’t you? Didn’t you find anyone? “ Steven shook his head, looking down at the ground.

“ not really good with girls and that. And a bit hard to date when you lose multiple days innit? “ he sounded mildly bitter and you couldn’t blame him. Marc had not only lied to you, he’d lied to Steven too. You were the same. In this together “ I had a date before you turned up actually… missed it though. Didn’t even remember asking her out “ you found jealousy spiking in your chest at that. Was it just Stevens iffy memory or did he not remember because it hadn’t been him who had asked? Had it been Marc?

No. He wouldn’t do that. He wouldn’t.

You reached out for Stevens hand again, squeezing it softly.

“ they’ll be someone for you. If it helps, I think you’re great “ you didn’t actually know how the entire dating thing would work if you and Marc were to patch things up. And there was that part of your brain whispering that you didn’t want Steven to date anyone else. Didn’t want anyone else hearing his little word vomits, seeing his dorky smile and those big brown eyes looking at them with nothing but love.

But. Now wasnt the time to think about that.

Stevens cheeks flushed pink at your words and you couldn’t help but smile at him. He made your heart flutter. You were quiet then for a few more minutes until you finally came across the remains of Harrows dig site.

“ down there “ you said, nodding towards the dig site that looked far from bustling with life “ they must be inside already. Come on “

Down on the site there was no one. Not a single brainwashed follower to be seen. They were definitely inside. Brilliant.

“ hello “ Steven said to one of the camels that was tied up and your mouth stretched into a smile again. You smiled a lot around him you noticed.

“ let’s look for supplies yeah? “ he ducked into the closest tent and you looked around mainly for a weapon. Maybe you should have brought the gun with you after all.

You let your thoughts wander off as you pocketed a torch, but found them trailing to Steven. And not Marc.

Your brain was a little all over the place. There was…. Something there for Steven. You were too scared to dig down and figure out exactly what it was. You loved Marc. But also you were pissed at Marc. But Steven looked like Marc… but was nothing like him. He listened. He cared. He was smart and geeked out over the same things as you… all of that on top of the ever looming chance of an evil crocodile god getting loose? It was a lot.

Part of you wished you’d told Steven to give the body to Marc. So you could make him talk to you. But he’d have only run off and tried to do everything himself. He always said he was trying to protect you. But it only ever felt like he didn’t have faith. That he did nothing but underestimate you and think you couldn’t handle your own. Even though you had proved you could too many times to count.

Steven believed in you. Steven trusted you.

You continued your search for any decent weapons and ended up settling on some flares. They weren’t particularly your first choice. But they’d do some damage if you needed to. You grabbed a knife for good measure too.

Steven still hadn’t come out of the tent he was searching and you debated going in and seeing how he was. But he let you do your thing, so you let him do his. Instead you gathered up some climbing equipment that was laying around from Harrows minions entering the tomb. And started rigging everything up.

It was quite exciting to actually be going into a tomb. Even if it was to stop a mad man. You knew your dad would be looking down on you, bursting at the seems. That made you smile.

“ found some torches “ you turned your head as Steven appeared behind you with a smile “ and some water too. That any good? “ you gave a nod and beckoned him over.

“ perfect. Come here let me rig you up “ you guided him to step Into the harness, shimmying it up his legs and crouching down to tighten the straps around his thighs. It felt oddly intimate. To actually… touch him again. Well, that body anyway. It made you realise how much you’d missed it.

How much you’d missed him.

“ I have to say I feel like I’ve been waiting for this my whole life “ Steven said as you moved onto the other leg, you looked up at him with a raised eyebrow “ the adventure. I mean “ a grin found its way onto your face as you got back up again, pulling and tightening the harness around his hips.

“ I know. We want what we never had right? “ you glanced at him as you said it, unintentionally testing the waters. Your thoughts were scattered, being so close to the man that had the face of your husband. The man you’d spent months missing and wishing to be back at your side. But now with a new voice. A new person inside. Someone who listened. Who didn’t push you away and act like you couldn’t stand up for yourself. Didn’t act as though you were delicate.

You pulled on the harness to make it secure, stepping closer so that your chests were only millimetres apart, your face close to his. The familiar scent of Marc filled your senses. It sent a wave of nervous energy rippling through you.

“ you smell like him “ you said softly, it leaving your mouth without thinking. A million memories of that familiar, comforting smell that was Marc, flooding your brain. It almost made you dizzy “ Why wouldn’t you though right?”

“ right. Yeah “ your faces were incredibly close, you could feel his quickening breaths against your cheek. And he was looking at you again. The same way. The way that said he’d only known you a short while. But he was head over heels. But was that because of Marc? They shared a heart after all.

It suddenly all felt too much. And you were missing him and yet he was right. There.

You leant in, moving in before you could stop yourself. Only for Steven too.

“ Marcs trying to protect you from Khonshu. He thinks he wants you for his next avatar. That’s why he’s been pushing you away. Thought you should know that before you.. “ he hurried out, turning his head slightly before your lips could fall on his.

“ what? “ you took a small step back “ why are you telling me this now? “ you asked as you tried to process the information you’d been given. The real reason Marc had left you behind. And also embarrassment slight washing over you at the rejection. Even if it was in good intentions.

“ I just. I just thought you should know “ Stevens puppy dog eyes were looking at you as if you were the most incredible woman alive again, true compassion in his eyes. Sadness. Longing. So much was going on behind those eyes and you wondered if his mind was as scattered as your own. This whole thing was just… too much. You pulled on your climbing gloves and shrugged.

“ we’ll it wasn’t his call to make. I don’t need protecting. I don’t need protection” you said and went back to finishing off Stevens harness, pulling slightly harsher than you probably should’ve done “ I need honesty “ you said after a moment and let go of the harness now it was secured, grabbing the carabiner from the floor “ but that’s more your thing isn’t it? “ you said and clipped him onto the rope, before looking up at him, his eyes still on you.

Your stomach did that weird fluttering again, the way that you had felt whenever you used to look at Marc but… something else too. It was confusing. You didn’t quite know how to understand it or whether or not it was wrong. Or if it was simply rooted in annoyance and love at Marc and some odd appreciation and love? of Steven too.

“ what? Being…. Honesty? “ Steven stumbled slightly on his words, eyes darting down to your lips and you couldn’t help but smile at how unbelievably sweet he truly was. How nervous he seemed.

“ yeah. Being honesty “ there was a small moment of silence, a debate happening behind Stevens eyes. Your own eyes unable to stop from flickering down to his lips. It was like looking at Marc, but having all the kindness that he’d used to possess. But this wasn’t Marc. This was Steven. Kind, caring wonderful Steven who didn’t ever treat you as anything other than a goddess walking.

Then before you could quite believe it, Steven was leaning in. His hands planted on your shoulders and his nose bumping yours a little. It was definitely different to the way Marc kissed you. Steven was clumsy, unsure of himself or what exactly he was meant to be doing. Marc was confident, kissed you with meaning and force and held you where he wanted. It wasn’t a bad kiss, not at all, so much that you found yourself kissing him back.

It was his first kiss you were certain. The way he was holding onto you and not quite able to flow into a steady rhythm was answer enough. But still. It was nice. It felt a little wrong. This wasn’t your husband. But was it really cheating when they shared a body? Now was not the time to be looking Into the inner workings of this. You pulled away first. More for his sake than anything else. Scared he was about to combust on the spot.

You wondered what Marc would say. If he was in Stevens head already yelling at him.

You hoped you looked relatively normal. Not at all as if there a million alarms currently blaring in your head, screeching dozens of different things from ‘what the fuck are you doing’ to ‘you wanted to do that all day’. But you were certain your body had betrayed you, your cheeks prickling with blush and heart hammering so quickly it felt as though your entire body was trembling.

“ I’m ugh- I’m gonna. Gonna go down first okay? “ you said softly, not quite sure what you were meant to say in such a situation. But if he did see your blush or notice you nervous demeanour, he didn’t comment on it. In fact he might as well have had hearts flashing in his eyes like one of those dumb cartoons you’d watched as a kid. He was looking at you, a dopey smile and hands clutched up against his chest. It was adorable in all honesty.

But now was not the time.

“ yeah. Okay. Thank you “ he’d thanked you. Thanked you for letting him kiss you. He was so sweet it was tooth rotting. You smiled and pushed your hair behind your ear before turning to the tomb entrance and double checking your own carabiner was secure “ I’ll go in and check it’s okay before I belay “

“ what’s. What’s belay? “ you narrowed your eyes at him with another smile. Was he serious?

“ I still can’t tell when you’re joking or not “ you gave a little laugh before looking down into the tomb, then Hoping off the edge.

[actual-bill-potts]

For the ficlet prompts - Finrod, after he comes back from the dead, trying to recover from the trauma of his death and the events before his death?

Finrod’s death had not been quick, and it had not been easy.

Easier than his companions’, certainly; he had not had to breathe out choked screams as his skin was peeled slowly from flesh by a tongue too barbed to be natural, nor feel as his innards were delicately unspooled by too many teeth—

(Breathe in. Breathe out. There you go, Finrod, back with us, stay steady, Barahir had said, dragging him from the Fen, and he had repeated that mantra to himself often enough since)

—but still not easy. When he had seen those eyes, gleaming in the dark, focused on Beren (son of Barahir, son of Bregor, son of Boromir, son of Boron, son of Baran, son of—of—someone he would never see again) it had been as though all conscious thought was wiped from his mind, replaced by pure white fury. He had not felt pain, or fear, or even grief as he wrenched his chains from the wall and tore at the wolf: nothing but the single overwhelming knowledge that he would not die until those wolf-eyes dimmed.

But afterwards, he had collapsed in front of Beren who was hoarse with weeping, and the pain had robbed him of the ability to think in other than disjointed flashes. Some part of his mind, well-used to assessing injuries in the field, had murmured wrenched shoulder, shattered hand, broken leg, one foot missing, chest torn open: need a tourniquet, some bandages, a splint and a blanket, we can give him a fighting chance.

But the rest of him had merely whimpered in horror at his hröa so shattered through a throat too bloodied to scream, and anyway they had no cloth for a tourniquet and Beren’s hands were bound above his head. So Finrod had lain his head in the lap of Barahir’s son and listened to him whisper broken reassurances. And the spreading dark wetness had grown below and about him until finally, finally, the effort of drawing air in through a chest half-flayed open had proven too much, and the pain had at last faded away—

And now he lay in a new bed, in a bedroom so clearly fashioned by Elves that it made him miss Nargothrond with startling clarity. The touch of mortal hands had been obvious, in the way corners were sometimes carved imperfectly, scratches painted over instead of meticulously filled in, imperfect and marred and home. A symbol that good could come of evil, a reminder of Men and Dwarves his friends, who saw the world with such bright astonishment and showed him how to do the same: an unspoken promise that even though their spirits fled to Halls which Finrod could not enter, they would not truly die so long as their memory lived on.

But here in Aman, there was nothing and no one but him who could remember, and all his clear memory was overlaid with Curufin’s glittering eyes and Celegorm’s hard face; the fear and disgust in the eyes of his people as they turned away; the wrenching, sobbing breaths of Edrahil as his limbs were ripped apart, slowly, one by one—

Something glittered on the pillow beside him, and Finrod found that he was crying. But he could not stop, even when he heard footsteps pad down the hall toward his door.

"Finda—Finrod?" his father said tentatively from the doorway, soft accent stumbling still over the sharp syllables of his new name, "Tyenya?"

Finrod could not speak, but he sat up in bed, trying to calm his breathing.

Arafinwë crossed the room from his doorway and sat on the edge of the bed beside him. "Tyenya," he said, softly, "what is wrong? Can I help?"

"I…" Finrod began, breath still heaving and trying in vain to think of something reassuring to say, "I only…"

He trailed off. There was a grief inside him too big and screaming to fit inside words, and the sickening memory of seeing his own limbs so twisted it seemed they could not be his own blurred together with the walls of his strange-familiar room until his vision spun and he had to lower his head and breathe very carefully to keep from vomiting.

"Hína," his father said, very gently, "hinya, tyenya. Come here. All will be well." He opened his arms, and Finrod shaking fell into them.

One of Atya’s hands smoothed gently over his hair; the other rubbed circles into his back; and Finrod felt his breaths slowing, evening out until finally he was able to push himself up and look at his father.

Arafinwë’s eyes were blue and clear, though more laden with sorrow and care than Finrod had often seen; and his mouth bore faint lines which had not been there in the youth of the world. But his face was gentler, too, than it had once been; and he was looking at Finrod with such open love that Finrod had to duck his head lest he begin to weep again.

He said, "I am sorry. I am sorry! Seeing you and Amillë again is nothing but joy. It is only that—only—"

He could not finish. He did not know how.

His father said, "Dear one, you have returned to us beyond all hope. I thought you and all your siblings lost to us forever. Yet you live, and bring news of Artanis married, Artaresto with a child, a magnificent kingdom built by our firstborn son! If you do naught but sit here and let me hold you for an age, I will be happy— more than happy! But I wish I knew how to ease your grief. If we can do anything, hinya—please tell us."

"I do not—I do not know," said Finrod haltingly. "I suppose—I miss Beleriand, though miss is too poor a word, and yet it was so terrible, at the end. And so I do not know how I feel, only that I cannot stop remembering, the joy and the terror both. And sometimes my mind is convinced that I am wounded in body still."

Arafinwë drew him close again, and he went unresisting. "Hinya," he said, light voice vibrating against Finrod’s cheek pressed to his shoulder, "In all the long years since I lost brothers, father, and children, I have learned that it is never wise to be silent about those you have loved, and lost. You do not have to bear their memory alone. You need to rest; but perhaps tomorrow you could tell me about something you loved in Endórë, that I might learn more about my child whom I love."

Finrod nodded. "I would—it would—yes. There were so many bright spirits in Beleriand, Atya. So many who are gone, and will never see Aman."

Wearily he lay back. His father smoothed his hair, and made to get up, but Finrod suddenly could not bear the thought of being left alone again, and said, "Will you—stay? I was nearly alone, at the end. It was not—it was not a kind ending."

"I know, hinya," his father said quietly, and almost Finrod thought he wept. "I will stay as long as you need."

His hand carded through Finrod’s long curls, and the shadows of wolves subsided.

[ansbobcar]

EP 13. Was it really "love at first sight"?

WORD COUNT. 1316

Link to overview

_ _ _ _ _

With copies upon copies of research papers floating beside them, their impromptu arrival sparked discussions as Sophina had rushed out of her office to drag them inside. “Thanks for making time,” she puffed; “to return the papers you borrowed unlike some people,” overriding Orter’s magic with her own over the texts. No matter what she told and did to those stubborn people, they couldn’t remember something so simple through that thick skull of theirs. Maybe she’ll find an obscure ancient curse to torture them thoroughly.

“It’s fine, it was a bit overdue after all,” Rinka placed the final batch of papers down. “I should be thanking you for copying so many of these.”

“You owe me big time,”  narrowing her eyes at the older woman. “Didn’t I return the favour by helping with your security system?”

She sighed before shaking her head at the response. “You forgot all about it didn’t you?”

“I did?”

Now the Desert Cane felt out of place, earmuffs still hung around his neck. They were still busy, and this was supposed to just be a quick stop before they resumed work again, checking his watch. It had barely been 2 hours since they had washed up from getting drugged by the Blood Cane’s own mother. “I’ll get going first,” he pivoted himself out as she waved back. Rinka’s schedule was more flexible than his own as well, he reasoned. If it’s regarding their relationship, he would just have to trust her. He had to. “See you!” She haphazardly waved back.

“You were supposed to give us the details weeks ago,” the Knowledge Cane huffed childishly. “I even brought over Tsurara so that we’d get up to speed faster!” she pointed over to the short girl wrapped up in a thick blanket on the couch. 

“Sor-”

“‘Sorry’s won’t cut it!” She crudely uttered. “You literally ditched us for a fling we didn’t know about!” She should’ve forcefully made the woman reveal the true nature of their relationship earlier. From her own understanding, even though they were both extremely cooperative even with opposing views on matters, they were both rather disconnected from each other. Although the gossip described their dynamic as adversaries, they lacked that ‘rivals to lovers’ quality from the beginning and have played it out as a simple love story. “It’s like you’re high school sweethearts who broke up and found each other again 10 years later,” disgust laced her voice. Which doesn’t even make sense!

“Isn’t that a bit too dramatic?” Tsurara muttered, shuffling with her whole body for the two to sit with her.

Sophina paused for a brief moment, her mind focusing on an even more confusing relationship--whatever’s going on between those two--that she won’t specify any further for her own sanity, “Far from it.” The two of them took a seat next to the youngest Divine Visionary right now. “How about you just go into detail about how you fell for such a guy?” 

‘Might as well see what sort of story this woman came up with,’ her head craned to see the blonde stay silent.

‘I didn’t think this far,’ mind pooling with regret. ‘Shall I improvise then? It’s my side afterall.’

She hesitantly replied, “It’s a bit too cliche…”

“I’m all for it.”

_ _ _

“Which administration do you see yourself working in?”

“Personally, I’d like to change the management choices of the Magical Power Administration,” he stated. Her heart leapt in joyful discomfort at the uncommon choice. He had explained his reasonings fairly enough which were more than understandable but it was still a first to hear anyone choose her department voluntarily. Hence, she particularly focused on his performance during the final exam.

Out of all the candidates, there was only a singular willing replacement for her. With bated breath, she watched as they fought for such a powerful title. It was most-likely his experience on the field which helped him secure his position as victor, having evaded the grips of Walkis.

In mundane terms, she found it cool. After all, she had seen the vicious process that such an institute did in order to narrow down to their top 3 candidates. Of course, being in the same department was another story.

In fact, their first proper conversation went horribly for your average onlooker. “How are you even a Divine Visionary? Let alone for this administration?” Livid at the way she ran… well… everything. From the way she scheduled department meetings weekly “are you insane?” all the way to simply the state of the papers in the office. “No wonder you don’t have a secretary…”

‘Was this really one of the most reputable Divine Visionaries in recent history?’ was plastered on his face having clung tightly onto the hope that someone like her was at least organised. But she simply laughed. Amused by his sudden outburst. He had every opportunity to do it beforehand, she noted. 

“I expected you to care more about the field agents rather than office matters.”

“It is important for the fieldwork.”

After barely clearing the desk, he began to sketch out a new layout to organise the room. Following suit, he observed the rest of the week’s typical schedule before writing a new one for the following meetings and adjusting his office. He had free reign for the month since she was requested to deal with hazardous magical beast activity near the outskirts of the region. Typical spring cleaning. But as a result of her sudden week long absence and his lack of filling that void, everyone seemed to despise him.

“It is pretty common to get complaints from staff when a new face takes over,” Tsurara pointed out.

Rinka’s eyes were filled with melancholy at her words. “But our department isn’t as forgiving which is what makes the direct changeover even more unbearable for everyone involved.”

‘The report I needed to look over from earlier disappeared,’ searching around her desk for it. There was going to be a meeting over it at the end of the day yet she didn’t read what the conclusion was or their findings. Just the method they used to conduct the surveys which was mainly through animal observations. Shuffling through the stack of papers, she was met with nothing. The report was written in blue ink as well. 

It shouldn’t be that hard to find. She had put it right infront of her seat on the desk.

“Do you happen to still have a copy of the report?” She asked the one who had given her the paper in the first place. No, they didn’t make copies of the report. “Did you misplace it perhaps?”

She didn’t misplace it. She doesn’t forget things that easily.

“How about taking a breather?”

“Alright.”

And as she walked, fluttering in the wind were papers with blots of familiar blue stained.

Thankfully, she knew a restoration spell but the state was already too damaged to realise its original state.

“Is that so?” the ravenette uttered. Love at first sight would make sense, or rather the intrigue of another and a sense of relatability that couldn’t be found elsewhere.

“I’m sorry, I have to leave to check up on the results of the new trials,” the yellow-scarfed teen mumbled, standing up from the couch. “I hope we can enjoy another time to hang out,” She bowed before leaving the two of them.

The Knowledge Cane only lacked Orter’s side of the story. There was no way in hell that they could’ve seamlessly had mutual feelings for each other unless Orter was that archetype? ‘If so…’

“What about that time you did that duel with him?”

“Which one? I fought him like thrice.”

“The one you did infront of the whole Bureau,” the younger woman specified. “What was that about?”

“Oh. That one,” she pursed her lips. How was she going to spin this story?

_ _ _ _ _

Yo. What sort of archetype do you think Sophina was referring to? (I'm tryna incorporate the other DVs a bit into the plot so yuhhhhh.)

And double updates because I think people need this as a pair.

ALSO SORRY Y'ALL I FORGOT THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE CRINGE ROM COM it got too angstyier than I expecteddd. I hope this chapter was more fluff/rom-com-y.

[will80sbyers]

part one

part two

part three

part four

this is the final chapter, part 5!

Enjoy and thank you for reading!! 😊

______________________

They arrived in Hawkins the next day, in the morning. Jonathan decided to make only a brief stop to use the bathroom at a gas station and buy some snacks for the road. All of them wanted to get back as soon as possible, the encounter with Sullivan had left them uneasy.

Will was feeling nervous. He immediately knew that the anger that grew inside him was not entirely his own, but he hadn’t found a way to stop it, and was letting it prevail without meaning to.

It was the first thing he had felt as the van passed the big sign welcoming them back in their hometown. That anger was accompanied by a tingling sensation on the back of his neck. The shivers of fear, that seemed to be a warning against a predator. Will knew in that moment that Vecna was not dead. They had lost.

The shock of that knowledge was soon replaced by the scenery that was all around them. Hawkins was destroyed. Enormous cracks had formed and devoured buildings on their path. People were going around in a frenzy, packing their belongings, and getting ready to leave.

Will looked at Mike, still sitting beside him. It was a reflex, he always searched for reassurance in him. He hated it. He didn’t want to feel like this for him anymore, and he was sick of his games.

He remembered Mike trying to touch his hand in the van and the anger pierced his brain again. How could he do that while El was sleeping near him? What was he thinking? Was this all a game to him? A sick prank?

Will managed to stop that train of thoughts.

No. Mike was not like that. There must have been another reason. He couldn’t start thinking like that, he had to wait for an explanation from him.

These thoughts were not his... it was Henry.

Will still remembered how scared he was when the Mindflayer had taken over his body, how filthy and wrong it had felt. He still had to fight with the night terrors that came after, when he was back to himself. He still, to this day, spent some nights lying awake in bed, thinking about how it was his fault that a lot of people had died. How it was partly his fault that Bob had died. Will was still searching for a way to stop the pain that overwhelmed him in those moments. The guilt of having hurt so many people by making the mistake of not running away from the shadow, was always with him.

Mike turned his head towards him, as if he had sensed Will watching him. They locked eyes for a moment. Will noticed that Mike’s brown eyes were shining, a few silent tears were rolling down his cheeks.

He felt his anger slowly fade away, replaced by sorrow. He knew that Mike Wheeler was going to be the only boy he would ever love in his life and he wished he could carry his pain for him. Will was used to it, he thought, he could bear it for both.

Jonathan took the road that would have brought them to the Wheeler’s home, and no one dared to speak a word until they arrived on the driveway.

…

He felt the shivers again outside the cabin.

The news of Hopper being alive had reinvigorated the moral of the group after they had come back from the hospital to visit Max, but Will knew that the worst was still coming for them. Vecna was alive out there, and they had to find him. They had to kill him.

The particles of the Upside down that looked like ash were falling all around them. Eleven approached him as soon as she saw him touch the back of his neck.

«Will?» she asked.

His mother, Hopper, Jonathan, Nancy and Mike all watched him now, clearly worried and confused by what was happening.

«I can feel him.» he said. «Follow me.»

They walked through the woods until they arrived at the clearing that allowed them to have a view of the whole town. Black smoke rose from the four gigantic cracks that scarred Hawkins. Half of the flowers on the clearing had withered away, the red, yellow and blue colors slowly fading in a burned gray. 

They watched in stunned silence, observing the disaster in front of them, until Hopper decided to break it.

«Let’s go back to the cabin. We can’t do anything about it now, kid.» He said to Eleven. She walked back to her father and his mother, that were already holding hands, and took Hopper’s free hand.

They walked away, followed by Nancy and Jonathan.

Will didn’t move.

«Are you coming?» Mike was standing behind him and lightly touched his hand. That touch alone sent an electric current through Will’s body. He moved his hand away, hastily.

«What the hell, Mike!» he snapped, turning back towards his best friend.

They were staring at each other now. Will was struck by Mike’s beauty; the sun had found a way to reach him despite the black smoke that was filling the sky behind them. Will felt his anger decrease.

How could he be angry while he was staring at a work of art. Mike’s face looked like the combination of mathematical and artistic perfection to Will. His sculpted jawline and pronounced cheekbones had always made him want to draw him. He had tried too many times to capture him on paper, but he was never satisfied of the results. They were never quite perfect as the original. Will came back to himself and saw that Mike had taken a few steps back. He looked hurt and confused, and Will’s eyes started to well up with tears of frustration. They had to talk, he had to ask him.

«Do you think this is funny? » he whispered.

Mike’s confusion seemed only to grow.

«No. That’s not… I wasn’t thinking… I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable» his tone was apologetic.

« I’m sorry» he said finally.

«Can I ask you a question?» Will said, and Mike nodded, wary.

«Did you mean it? At the motel… you called me pretty.» Will stared at the ground between them, the blue and yellow flowers were still untouched by Vecna’s curse on the town.

Once he had asked, Will found the strength to look at Mike’s face again and discovered that… his best friend was blushing?

«Yes.» Mike admitted.

«I think I need to go» Will was about to run away, but Mike moved faster, standing in front of him.

«Hey! No. You are not going to leave me before we talk. Please!»

«And what about El, Mike? She’s my sister!» Will raged.

«We broke up at the pizza place, Will.» Mike got closer to him and took his hands. Will was stunned. He looked at their intertwined hands and then looked up at Mike. The other boy was smiling at him, almost beaming from emotion.

He continued. «I broke up with her… because of you. Since your speech in the van… and the painting… Will, I… What you said about me in the van, about me being the heart, it made me realize that I think about you as more than just my best friend. I’m sorry. I thought… I mean, maybe it’s dumb and just wishful thinking, but…. I thought you felt the same about me. I know that El did not commission the painting and… I thought… maybe… maybe you were talking about yourself…. About us.»

Will was in shock. His mind was full of literal white noise.

«I was.» he said.

He didn’t know when exactly his heart had started to beat so fast. He was feeling lightheaded, he couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

«You were?» Mike’s smile was the final shot through his heart. «Thank god… I thought I was going crazy.» He chuckled to himself.

Will started to laugh too.

«Crazy together?» he said, a few tears were streaming down his eyes.

Mike gently wiped the tears away from his cheek, then he smiled slyly and cupped Will’s face with his hands, placing a soft kiss on his lips.

Will’s heart stopped for the second time that evening.

After their first kiss, Mike was watching him to understand his reaction, and Will went in for another kiss. He needed more than that, he needed Mike to be closer. He needed Mike to never stop kissing him.

They kissed gently and then with more passion than he had ever thought a kiss could have. They were both acting like air wasn’t really a priority for survival. Mike broke them apart at one point and just hugged him tightly, Will felt giddy and warm all over. He wanted to stay in that hug forever and wanted to go back to kissing Mike at the same time.

«So… you really think I’m pretty, uh?» Will said, playful and intrigued by the idea of making Mike blush for a second time.

«Shut up» Mike smiled, and they kissed again.

The world they knew before that moment in the clearing had ended, but Will decided that he liked this one much more.

He would fight to keep it, no matter what happened next.

[leonawriter]

It all starts while Akira thinks Akechi is dead a second time, and he’s been in jail (again) and he’s got out (again) and life goes on, but as much as it’s one thing to believe someone’s not dead, it’s another to have to live without them with no proof that they’re absolutely, definitely, alive.

So. One day, either in the middle of who knows where hiding out, or in the ryokan, or in the middle of Tokyo but pretending he’s no one important, one day by chance Akechi has the radio tuned in to the Jazz station and a song comes on that makes him stop what he’s doing and listen.

It’s nothing groundbreaking. It’s not linked to any important memories or people. It just - with the music and the lyrics - makes him think of how things had been with Akira, and how things had ended.

Part of him wants to scoff at himself for getting sentimental for the past and relationships that surely hadn’t meant as much to the others as they had to him (no matter what had happened on that day in February, Akira surely had to have accepted that he’d die, and moved on by now, too)- Jazz was his first. He’s not going to give it up because it makes him think of Akira now.

So he keeps listening. And starts to hear other songs that all match up quite well, that make him think of better times, and others that make him wonder - in a useless way he derides himself for - if that was how Akira might have seen things, which is a pointless train of thought because if he needed to know that badly he could just ask Akira himself, but he’s not doing that because he’s not going back.

It goes on.

There are more songs, and Akechi starts wondering if the universe is doing this on purpose. He’d had a god controlling him (more or less) for two years. Fate controlling when he tuned in to the radio to hear these specific songs didn’t seem too out there.

It’s almost enough to make him sometimes want to turn back, regardless that he’s told himself he won’t. For various reasons. All very valid.

Besides! Akira has already gone back home by now.

Then he finally hears the radio host say And this latest song is a request from someone who says that it’s been far too long since he was able to hear it in person with the one who introduced him to Jazz in the first place, and we hope this helps-

They start to play No More What Ifs.

He’s a detective - or he was, and he wasn’t just solving fake mysteries and reverse engineering his own crimes - so he doesn’t jump to conclusions or make assumptions. He doesn’t. He waits, the knowledge pooling in his gut that Akira had been thinking of him and still thinks about him. Tells himself that’s enough and that it might not be anything else, that might’ve been the first time, and yet.

He keeps listening. And he spots the patterns, waits for the right times, hears the radio host again and again, and all of those songs that felt like they were describing everything he’d had with Akira... weren’t on accident. Because Akira had been phoning in and asking for them. He must have been listening to all sorts of artists and styles without Akechi to tell him to, and that makes him feel... he doesn’t know. Something big, probably.

He also learns that if he’d thought Akira was sentimental back in January, that’s nothing to the kinds of things he requests. That said, he’d also be lying if he said it did nothing for him to hear Akira ask them to play I Get Along Very Well Without You (Except Sometimes), making it clear that all you needed to do is replace spring with winter and those were Akira’s feelings.

It comes to a head one day and his resolve breaks. He phones in. Talks them into using what had somehow become Akira’s timeslot. At first it probably seems like a fluke. But then he does it again. And again. He likes to wonder what Akira’s reactions are, since he’s not telling the hosts his life story, unlike someone else he could name.

He thinks, at first, that he chooses the songs at random. Songs that he likes, rather than just ones that say what he’s feeling. But then he gets them to play I’ve Never Been In Love Before, and it isn’t a game anymore (except, it probably never was).

-

(I kinda don’t know what’d happen next to end the idea, but, the thought of Akira communicating “I think I was in love and I think I still am and even if I’m not letting go I’m also still grieving” via radio and Akechi just catching it like that stuck in my head. Possibly after hearing the song “Hurdy Gurdy Man” by Donovan for some reason. 

The two songs I reference other than No More What Ifs are both by Chet Baker, and you should definitely look them up. Though, a big part of why this is a tumblr post rather than a full-fledged several thousand word long fic... is because I’d want a much vaster knowledge of jazz music to work with in order to do it justice with the song choices, and just doing random web searches for jazz songs doesn’t really help a great deal, haha.)

[nocturne-side-blog]

I am going to start by saying I apologize for the rant I am about to go on, but I don't want Ganon to be redeemed in Tears of the Kingdom

As we slowly get closer to May 12, a surprising amount of people really want Ganondorf to have a change of heart and fight by the hero's side in ToTK. This genuinely surprises me. Here are my thoughts on the matter (despite the fact no one asked):

Let's get the elephant in the room out of the way. His tear, which replaced the gem on his forehead. We know he does not have this initially, so it somehow had to have ended up there. The bigger stretch of an explanation is that someone else put it there as an attempt to remove his dark power from him. But the more likely explanation? He stole it. Perhaps as an attempt to take control of its power. It will be the last year that must be gathered, but he snatches it first; and it may just be the mistake that later comes back to bite him. We've seen Ganondorf use weapons of "good" before, such as the sword of the Sages that he steals after his failed execution in Twilight Princess.

I love the idea that they show the human side of Ganondorf. It would give him so much more depth to see that perhaps he's grown tired of the cycle, but what would make it hurt more for the audience is seeing him force the cycle on by his own actions of revenge anyway. It would be much more interesting to watch Ganondorf break himself down, claiming to be a suffering man at the hands of fate, when in truth he is the one keeping it going. He was quite literally a walking corpse when Link and Zelda found him. Even if he were to realize it at the end, it seems more in character for him to only do one "good" deed, and it's to free himself.

Taking another route, perhaps Ganondorf would rather be driven insane by embracing his role in Demise's Curse. His Phantom, Calamity Ganon, is bent only on making Hyrule suffer. I wouldn't be surprised if, at this rate, all he wants is for the world to suffer. Especially now that he knows that, tragically, it's his destiny (even though Twinrova would've raised him to be kinda messed up even without the curse in play).

He doesn't deserve it. Look, I am all for redemption arcs. They're one of my favorite tropes ever. But saying Ganondorf deserves a full on redemption arc; as in, him getting to be forgiven or let off without consequences just because he's "good now"? It's unfair to every incarnation of the spirit of the Hero and the blood of the goddess that we've seen. More than that, it's unfair to Hyrule across time. It is no question that Ganondorf has killed hundreds of people. It could be even more. I hate to say it, but in the storyline of a video game, a "redemption" for that just won't work. I kind of see it how I see the redemptions of the Diamonds in Steven Universe. Besides, if Ganondorf at this point could be redeemed, then what about other villains who did less? Take Vaati, who was more than likely a child in The Minish Cap and felt like he could never live up to Ezlo? Or Ghirahim, who- like Fi- was created to be a servant with no other choice or knowledge of another route. Neither can simply walk away from their actions, but they certainly have a better blueprint for a slow redemption arc.

Nintendo probably wouldn't go that direction anyway. Let's face it, Nintendo is kind of obsessed with keeping their storylines (if they even have any) under a specific formula. While TLoZ always gives interesting spins and twists on traditional fantasy, they also are usually operating by a good vs evil formula. If they intend for a character to change, such as Byrne, it's usually not until the last second of screentime. You know, when they can't be used for a boss fight anymore.

Ganondorf as a villain is SO COOL in the context for ToTK. Even if you're tired of Ganondorf being the villain in general, you got to admit that in concept he's already a fantastic starting point for a villain. Think about it: he has been sealed away for 10,000 years. Ganondorf no longer even has the Triforce of Power, and he's still holding on to the point of being a corpse that releases it's fury in the shape of kingdom-destroying monsters. After thousands of years (even before the first Calamity) of rising again and again to fight the same battle with no end, the embodiment of Demise's Curse finally revitalizes itself when it seems that the long war is over. No matter how tired he may be, or who has to suffer, he will destroy Hyrule in honor of himself. He will leave no survivors.

tl;dr just because he looks awesome doesn't mean he's gonna start fighting demise

[mammonsturtle]

U & Me (Replaced!AU)

U & Me Pt. 1

Based on This and This @ gallantys

This is my first fanfic with a GN!MC, and first of a series.

Not proof-read, based on Replaced!Au and plenty of Mammon angst fics

Not sure if this has a plot or it’s just the ramblings of a madman, enjoy!

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5) (Part 6) (Part 7)

Since the first exchange program went so well, albeit with bumps here and there, Lord Diavolo thought it’d be a swell idea for the program to open once more. You were going to be the ambassador for the program and would watch over the new human exchange student and make sure they were comfortable with their stay in the Devildom. Also, you would let Diavolo know how they were doing via weekly reports. Your first time as an ambassador...You wanted to make Diavolo and the brothers proud.

The exchange student’s name was Angel, ironically, they seemed to be one too. Not only did they look like an angel, they were a capable witch/wizard. They were good natured and had an eagerness to experience many new things in the Devildom. They were kind and cordial to you and it was nice to have another human besides Solomon to talk about human world related subjects. You really did like Angel, as did the brothers who took to them quickly.

Lucifer was quite impressed with Angel, the perfect candidate for the program. They were quite talented; magically and academically and they knew how to handle situations. Unlike you, who was reckless and tended to bite more than you can chew. 

Mammon, despite his wariness of them being a witch/wizard eventually warmed up to them. He soon let them tag along in his Majolish gigs and casino runs when you weren’t able to. Though...He did say he’d protect you, sometimes. 

Leviathan at first was in his usual ‘Ugh. Another normie.’ stance, until they mentioned TSL and he quickly changed his tune. TSL marathons and game nights were a normal thing with them and you weren’t invited as much as before.

Satan adored Angel, who wouldn’t with their scholarly knowledge? Finally! It felt like he had an equal in this house, and their cat familiar? He called it a match in made in Hell, in the best way possible. He’d invite them and their familiar to the cat cafes you two used to go to. 

Asmodeus absolutely loved Angel, compared to you, they looked like the kind of company Asmo would rather have. Self care sessions, spa days, and shopping sprees were all reserved for them as your own care was forgotten about. 

Beelzebub loved it whenever Angel got cooking duties, they knew a couple of spells that enchanted the food, easily filling him up without having to spend extra on him. If your cooking could have the same effect for Beel, think of all Grimm that could have been saved! 

Belphegor seemed to have chosen Angel as their new cuddle buddy and star gazer partner. Angel was lucky that they didn’t have to go through the ups and downs of having to trust him like you had, soon your naps and starlit nights with Belphie were soon nonexistent.

But it was alright, they just got along with the brothers pretty well! The brothers had opened their hearts and home to another human, they did well in their studies and that had made the program look quite well for Diavolo. You kept telling yourself that, even Angel tried to reach out and make time for you. Only to be swept away but one or more of the brothers. 

Angel would text you apologies, you couldn’t be mad at them as they clearly wanted to spend with time with you as well...But the fact that the brothers all seemed to want to be with them instead of you still hurt. As you wrote your weekly report to Diavolo, your quivering hand, uneven handwriting, and the tear drops hitting the paper easily gave the Prince a reason to be concerned.

It’s fine, you usually cried yourself to sleep as you felt like you were but a fading memory to the brothers.

• - - - - - - ☆- - - - - - •

Soon after, the honeymoon phase had come and gone. The brothers had seemed to forgot that you lived with them as well. Days turned into weeks and weeks into months, your weekly reports with Angel and the boys were stating to concern Lord Diavolo and Barbatos. Along with the Purgatory trio noticed your entire demeanor, even if you assured them that you were okay. You even resorted to spending time with them and staying over at Purgatory Hall, it wasn’t like the brothers would miss you.

The honeymoon phase was over for someone in the house besides you. Since Angel was well versed in magic, they didn't need Mammon's protection compared to when you had first came to the Devildom. Heck, he assured Angel that it wasn’t that he didn’t like witches/wizards, but one spectacular show of a protection spell was all that he needed to see that he wasn’t needed.  

As disappointed as he was for wanting to prove his worth as their protector, the rest of the brothers weren’t going to let him.  And none of them wanted to lose time with them to the scummiest of the brothers. So their usual treatment of Mammon didn’t stop, even with a new student in their home. He was still the scummy second born and to them, wasn’t worthy of Angel’s attention.

Mammon would bust into your room unannounced and rant to you about how his brothers were treating him like crap as per usual. He’d rant, you’d patiently listen and try to comfort him. He’d end up cuddling with you for comfort like they many times before. In turn, Mammon would notice the stray tears and like a curious crow, he’d peck around and ask what was wrong. You’d tell him that you were just tired, just the expectations of being an example for Angel to follow.

Though now Angel was the example that you should have been following now.

• - - - - - - ☆- - - - - - •

“Hey Angel! Wanna hit the casinos? I’m feeling lucky tonight!” “Eh? Why would Angel want to spend time with scum you?” “Eh?! Who wouldn’t want to spend time with the Great Mammon?” “You’d probably sell Angel off for some Grimm wouldn’t you Mammon?” “OI!! THAT AIN’T TRUE!”

You had just got back from dinner with the Purgatory boys, with a visit from Barbatos who came to fetch your weekly report. You could hear another argument as you walked to your room. It was routine at this point that they’d only be arguing over who would have time for Angel as you were expecting another tirade from Mammon on how his brothers were being unfair to him. Again.

“It’s probably true. Mammon probably sold MC for some Grimm, that’s why we don’t see them around anymore.” “Sounds about right, we all know how desperate he gets when doesn’t have any money, not that he deserves any.” “THAT AIN’T TRUE EITHER!!!!” he snapped before making his way to the door.

Your heart sank at the thought that Mammon’s brothers would think that Mammon would resort to something so low. You knew he wouldn’t, but the thought that Mammon could have done that to you couldn’t stop the tears forming in your eyes. “MC!?” Through your newly blurred vision, Mammon stood before you in shock. How much of the conversation did you hear?

“MC...” Mammon softly murmurs your name and takes a cautious step forward, only for you to take steps back, “It’s not true...Tell me it’s not true...” Your lips tremble as Mammon’s own lips quivered as he tried to formulate the words to say, “Treasure..I’d never-” He stops as soon as he hears you choke out a sob and sees you sink to floor. The last couple of months took its toll on you, perhaps Barbatos would inform Diavolo of your request after all. 

• - - - - - - ☆- - - - - - •

Without a word your first man takes you in his arms, you were too tired from everything that you just let Mammon take you to his room. A sinking feeling from the nights where you had comforted him on his troubles made his stomach turned as he realized that he was blind to your feelings. 

An awful rush came over him as none of the brothers realized what they were all doing to you as well. Mammon had always prided himself as your first man, first pact, your first protector. He always wanted to be the first to know everything and anything that you were up to.

Though he would have never wanted to be the first to fail you.

• - - - - - - ☆- - - - - - •

A/N: This might have been a bit amateur-ish, rushed, and not proof-read. I promise it’ll be better in the next chapter. c: I have finals next week and all.  My original plan was to have the whole story in one lump post, but decided to put it out in parts for the sake of my sanity. Also, I do realize the new characters are out, but seeing how I’ve just reached lesson 40, they will not be included in future chapters/writings. Thank you for reading if you got this far! :)

[jbreenr]

𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐥𝐥

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale × Reader

Summary: You wanted to meet Ransom's family, he wanted to make sure you'd never want it again.

Word count: 3k.

Warning: Poorly written smut (+18 only, please), public sex (prompt 11), fingering, unprotected sex (don't do that, kids. be responsible), a bit of dirty talk, the Thrombeys being the Thrombeys. And I think that's it.

A/N: So, after finding out one of my stories was stolen an translated in Wattpad, I did not know if I should post this just yet but, what the hell? Let's do it. Anyway, this is for @stargazingfangirl18 and @navybrat817 's Shameless Hoes for Chris Challenge so, happy belated birthday! Yaaay. 🥳 Hope you like this at least a little and that it's not as bad as my paranoid brain thinks it is. Also, I just love how the prompts fit perfectly together, don't you? As always, lack of vocabulary and grammatical mistakes abound. *apologizes in español*

Wheel results (just attaching evidence):

ᴹʸ ᵍⁱᶠ

Draining, tedious, exasperating. Those were some of the adjectives Ransom associated with Thrombey family reunions. He'd arrive late, have some sort of conversation with his grandfather and leave early to do whatever that took him away from that big house.

Today though, he had a reason to stay for more than half an hour.

If it was up to him, you two would have stayed at home, happy, relaxed, and most importantly, naked in his bed, having a more pleasant time than the one you were most likely about to have. 

He tried to persuade you. Of course he did! But your insistence and puppy eyes made it impossible for him to say no to your request. 

So, here you were, getting out of his car, cake in sweaty hands and an excited smile on your lips, an expression so different from Ransom's, who seemed to be ready to get back behind the wheel and drive straight to Canada.

He didn't knock; he simply opened the door and held it for you to enter. If the three floor house was imposing from the outside, you felt impressed by the inside. Extravagant sculptures, apparently expensive paintings and other kinds of pieces of art were scattered everywhere, telling you just how wealthy and eccentric Ransom's family were. 

“That's Harlan Thrombey! ” You exclaimed as you stood in front of the portrait of your forever favorite author holding a knife and a book.

“So?” Ransom asked, unconcerned.

You turned to him open-mouthed, the cake almost slipping off your palms as you went to playfully slap him in the arm.

“How come you are related to Harlan Thrombey and you didn't tell me?” Your question was more of a shock than an accusation.

The carefree gesture he did with his shoulders only accentuated his next words. “I did not think you would be interested in knowing.”

“I wouldn’t be interested?” Incredulity, flowing out of your lips. “He’s the best thriller author of all time! He’s like today’s Edgar Allan Poe!”

To say that you didn't believe him was an understatement. He knew for a fact that you liked Harlan Thrombey's books, just taking a look at the bookshelf in your apartment was proof enough of that.

“We call him grandpa here.” Said a femenine voice. A brunette walked in your direction, her pretty features hardening as she looked at your boyfriend. “Don't we, Hugh?”

He seemed to be ready to say something but decided not to. Instead he inhaled and placed his hand on your back.

“This is Y/N, the only reason I’m not telling you what you need to hear right now.”

Her eyes rolled in irritation and then turned to you. “I’m Meg. Let's introduce you to the rest of the family, shall we?.” And she dragged you to the room where more people were gathered together, discussing something, not before sending a deadly glare at Ransom.

Given the distance between you and him, you didn't listen to the heavy sigh he let out before waking behind.

“Everyone!” Meg called, making everyone leave whatever they were doing to look at her –and you, in consequence. “Meet Y/N, Hugh's new friend.” She then proceeded to introduce every single member of the family, including the housekeeper and the nurse, except for the grandfather, who apparently had a moment of inspiration and left them momentarily to put his ideas on paper.

None of them left their seat to go and shake your hand except for Meg's energetic mom, who hugged you and expressed how much she loved your coat even though it was soooo last season.

Sitting on a couch next to Ransom, you half expected someone to ask you about how you two met or how long had you been dating or what was it that you did for a living. Nothing. As fast as their attention was on you, it fell from you to their previous discussion.

You now understood why Ransom jokingly suggested deep cleaning the house instead of attending that reunion.

What you weren't aware of, Ransom thought, was that all of them were behaving wonderfully compared to previous times.

You didn't know if you felt more disappointed or uncomfortable. Ransom had left your side to go to the studio for a second and you had barely had any interaction with his family. All of them, dipped in their own matters to even notice your presence. 

Fran, the housekeeper, was kind enough to take the cake to the kitchen and offer you a glass of water, but after giving it to you, she disappeared along with Meg and the nurse. 

“So,” All at once, the room went quiet as Ransom's uncle spoke. “Have you read any of dad's books, Y/N?” Only until you heard your name was that your head snapped up.

“Oh, uhm… yeah. I'm a big fan.” Taken by surprise, you simply answered.

“Really? Which one have you read?”

And to that question, you felt suddenly included in the conversation since you had knowledge of the topic.

“I'm like fifty pages from finishing 'The Needle Game' and intrigue is eating me alive.” As you heard the excitement in your voice, you tried to compose yourself and said “Though 'Nick Of Time' is my favorite.” You smiled at him, hoping that your answer was a good one.

The woman that was introduced to you as Ransom's mother nodded as she licked her lips. The light of the fireplace, reflecting on her glasses as she moved her head up and down.

“Have you read 'Ultimatum' or 'Drop In The Pocket', dear?” Her tone was curious, but the look on her face said differently.

You responded anyway. “They're not bad. I feel like the ending of 'Drop In The Pocket' was a little vague and out of line but it can always be interpreted as an open ending so…” The change in their expressions told you that you had to add something else to that answer. Maybe it was not time for literature humor yet. “But I enjoyed both.”

She hummed and took her drink, detaching from the talk that continued with courtesy questions until it morphed into a heated discussion between Ransom's father and uncle, who would repeatedly ask for your opinion to back up his own.

The discomfort you felt, dispelled to be replaced by the disturbance of being bombarded with dozens of questions at a time, each louder than the other until they changed to a completely different topic to which you were occasionally included as a neutral point of view.

“She knows what she's talking about!” Said Richard at some point when you confirmed one of his arguments. “Thank you, dear.”

Ransom came back from his obligatory argument with his grandfather to find you nowhere to be seen. 

“She's using the bathroom.” Informed Jacob, who did not take his eyes off of his cellphone. 

Thinking that you went there to hide, he started his way to your potential direction until an overheard observation from his mother stopped him halfway through. 

“… Did you hear how she talked about dad's work? Oh, I assure you she won't make it to next week with Ransom.”

Her and Richard's backs were to him, both of them unaware that their son was listening to their share of opinions.

“And did you see her hands?” Joni joined the criticism contest. “She could use some moisturizer, I tell you.”

As usual, they ignored her attempt to fit in and kept going.

“I know it's contradictory to say this,” Richard paused, as to make his point clear. “But he could do better.”

Despite their whispering, Ransom heard every single word and was glad that you were not there to see what was about to happen… 

Ransom's words stuck on his throat when he saw you making your way out of the bathroom, fixing the skirt of your dress, with such niceness and warmth directed to him as you smiled, oblivious to the fact that the people you were trying to get to like you weren't going to. 

His parents were right. He could do better. He could determine to not see them ever again and it would be the best thing to happen to him… Besides you, obviously.

“What's wrong?” Your concern was evident, just as his annoyance was undeniable.

Cold hands caressed his cheeks and Ransom thought of going back to Joni and tell her to fuck off. Your touch was soft, comforting, and gave him the greatest idea he'd ever had.

“I want to show you something.” Was his answer. It was better if you were the one who decided to never step on that house for the rest of your lives. It didn't matter if it was out of embarrassment.

Taking your hand in his, he guided you up the stairs to the first landing. The creaking sound of the old structure, probably alerting everyone in the other room that you were going to the next floor.

“Are you okay?” The sweet giggle that you let out when he abruptly stopped, almost making him feel bad about what he was seconds away from doing. 

“Better than ever.” And he stamped his lips to yours. 

Taken aback, it took you a second to respond. Hands on each side of his face as his own explored your body. When his fingers lifted your dress to caress your ass cheeks was when you ended the kiss. 

“What are you doing?” You asked in a breathless whisper. “Not that I'm complaining.”

You were cornered against the wall with Ransom towering in front of your smaller frame.

Trying to escape from whatever he had in mind was useless, you knew that much. Though, you were not sure if you really wanted to escape.

“What I've been wanting to do ever since you got a shower without me this morning.” His lips found your jaw and descended to your neck where he sucked to create a bruise. Your eyes closed to the sensation.

“Wait. No, wait.” His fingertip that had started rubbing your still clothed bud paused it's motions as his eyes focused back on your face. “We can't do it. Not here.”

Ransom's finger went back to work, bringing a soft moan that you tried to suppress. “Why not? No one's gonna come here.” His other hand moved up your thigh to lift it. “Even if they did, they wouldn't notice.”

With an expert swing of his wrist, he moved your panties aside, letting the cold air that wandered inside the house hit you before his skilled middle finger entered you while still managing to rub your clit in circles with his thumb.

Adrenaline ran through your veins, fuel activating every nerve in your body and shaking away fear from your brain, replacing it with lust and boldness.

“I'm blaming you if we get caught.” Your hips jolted forward wanting to feel more of his hand, the contradiction between your words and actions, making him smirk.

He added a second finger. Knuckles deep and his cold ring slowly warming against the inside of your thigh, he said, “I'll take responsibility, sweetheart.” Pumping his fingers in and out, he felt your slick running down the back of his hand to his wrist, wetting his overly expensive watch and the cuff of his cozy sweater .“But I can't assure you we won't get caught.”

His words, instead of working as a bucket of cold water as one would expect, increased your need to be touched by him, the yearning for him to take you right there and then. 

“Damn it, Ransom.” One of your hands flew to his shoulder to hold onto him for dear life. “I'm close.”

“You're not cumming unless I'm inside you, pretty thing.” At what point did he unfasten his belt and unzipped his trousers, you had no idea. The friction of his digits was gone in a second but the feeling of his already leaking tip rubbing against your most sensitive parts was enough to make you forget about those trifles.

Your lips opened, ready to tell him to keep his voice down when he suddenly thrusted home, stretching you out so deliciously that you had to cover your mouth to muffle the moan that threatened to inform everyone of your current activities.

Ransom's breathing hitched. Being inside you was a dream come true, feeling your walls enveloping his cock so fucking good… it was like you were made for each other, and he was going to prove it, even if his family didn't really get to know.

His hips started moving. Back and forth, back and forth. Delicately at first, letting you adjust to his size but the second he felt you throbbing around him, he increased the pace. Little by little his pounds gained power and energy.

Your whimpers –stuck in your throat, leaving only soft snuffles that crashed against Ransom's cheek, soon became more rapid, erratic and as his fingers dug in the flesh of your thigh to keep you still while he accommodated to go even deeper you heard a creaking noise.

Your boyfriend's blue eyes met yours, his movements never faltering despite the alert given by the dark wooden floor under your feet.

There was a conflict in your head, and Ransom could tell. The way you tightened and the pleading look on your face told different stories, yet Ransom knew they had the same ending.

Shaking your head, your eyes asked him not to do it, but you knew Ransom well enough to be sure that not even begging could stop him. 

“You love it, don't you?” His smile grew bigger as his change of position allowed him to hit your sweet spot on and on, ripping high pitched whines from you and obligating you to close your eyes. “The thought of getting caught. The image of someone seeing how good I make you feel.” The placement of his foot, making the landing creak repeatedly each time he pushed up accompanying every word. “Fuck, you're talking me so well. Such a dirty girl, uh.”

His big hand yanked the strap of your dress down, exposing your left boob. Your already hard nipple was soon attacked by Ransom's fingertips. He'd pinch and twist it slightly, just enough to make your back arch in search of his touch.

Pleasure was overflowing your senses, you could feel your heart thudding in your ears and your legs losing strength. Your hand left your mouth to grip at the back of Ransom's neck to keep you from falling.

The sight of your lower lip trapped between your teeth didn't please Ransom. In other circumstances, he would've let you stay that way, as quiet as possible so no one would walk on you. This time though, it was his intention to rip the most delicious sounds from your lips so you thought of the possibility of his family listening.

And so, he lent to kiss you, passion and desire transmitted through his breath. His tongue asked for a permission that was not really required, but as you let it in, Ransom took the opportunity to bite down your lip.

With your lips forcefully parted and Ransom's restless hand traveling back to your bundle, you had no other option than to moan with each quick circle his digits drew.

A series of laughs and undistinguished words were heard from a distance. Both Ransom and you turned to see what they were about, stopping in your tracks with him still buried deep inside your needy cunt.

“Guess dinner's ready.” Unbothered about the information he just gave, he hid his face in the crook of your neck and resumed his movements.

A shaky oh, fuck fell from your lips as you felt the familiar knot in your stomach forming. Your head flew back, hitting the wall with a soft thud. 

“Careful. We don't want to be obvious, do we?” You knew you were about to explode, and by the way your walls were clenching and your trembling body tried to separate from him, Ransom knew as well. “Let go, sweetheart.” A roar erupted from him as he felt you tightening around his length. “Cum for me.”

With a last, powerful thrust of his hips, you let out a silent scream. The coil snapped, making you see a kaleidoscope of colors behind your eyelids and listen to a loud ring in your ears. 

Ransom followed right after, cursing as he finished inside of you, coating you with every last drop and making sure everything would stay there.

He slid out, leaving you with a feeling of emptiness as he zipped his trousers and took a step back to let you fix your appearance.

You managed to accommodate your dress just in time for Ransom's family to walk out of the room they were in to see you. Your agitated breathing and blushed cheeks, getting everyone's attention. 

“Are you okay, dear?” Ransom's dad asked.

“She's fine.” Your boyfriend answered for you. “She's feeling a little sick. I better take her home.” He took you by the hand and helped you down the stairs to the door, which you thanked. Had he not done it, you would have tripped taking the first step.

“But she hasn't met grandpa yet.” Meg noted, furrowing her brows.

“It'll be next time.” And with that, Ransom took you out of the house and in the passenger seat of his car without giving anyone the chance to say goodbye.

When you were at a considerable distance, you sighed, letting out the air you didn't know you were holding.

“Just so you know, there won't be a next time.” You informed him, against your want to meet his grandfather.

“Why not?” He asked with a chuckle, already knowing the answer. 

“Cause embarrassment won't let me come back in the near future.”

Behind an eye roll and a tap on your thigh, Ransom hid the triumphant grimace his perfectly carried out plan gave him.

[mooniefics]

— personal punishment

pairing : nanami kento / fem reader

word count : 1.8k

tags : pnp, degradation, authority kink, office sex, semi-public sex, boss / secretary, nanami literally being the sexiest man to ever live and breathe

warnings : nsfw, power imbalance

summary : He couldn't expect you to be perfect—but he could definitely expect you to pay for each imperfection in more ways than one.

notes : thank u so much to @suna-reversed for hosting the incredibly creative jujutsuhub collab and allowing me to participate !! much love (୨୧•͈ᴗ•͈)◞*♡

you couldn't exactly say you weren't proud of your performance today.

for one, you'd come into the office late, knowing that your penalties would be formally waived by your boss but well aware that you would have to face his own personal punishment. it was just your luck that this very day was the most busy the office had been all month, leaving you running papers back and forth from your boss' office for hours, nearly tripping over your own heels three times too many before you even reached your lunch break, praying that you weren't screwing anything else up in your frantic rush.

but before you could even think about escaping the confines of the office building to make up for your missed breakfast at a cafe nearby, your boss was already calling back into his office. you already knew exactly why he was requesting your presence, fear and anticipation immediately tangling into a heavy knot in the pit of your stomach. but still you went, obediently as you always did, keeping your head low as you passed your coworkers in the hall.

your fate had been sealed the moment you made a mistake, the same outcome that had been repeating for months now each time you made an error, whether it was as small as not taking the trash out from the waste bin when it was too full for his liking to something as grievous as spilling his morning coffee all over one of his pristine white button-ups. for any and all errors, you were certain to face this punishment.

the position you were in wasn't unfamiliar, bent over nanami's desk, pencil skirt hiked all the way up to your waist with your underwear around your knees, completely at the mercy of the man caging you in with his body from behind.

"if you keep making all that noise, you're going to end up getting us both fired." he growled, voice low in your ear, one hand still pressed firmly over the center of your back, forcing your chest down onto his desk. the other was occupied between your legs, two thick fingers plunging mercilessly into your needy cunt as you struggled to hold in every whimper and moan each snap of his wrist drew from the back of your throat.

"'m s-sorry, s-sir..!" you barely managed to breathe out, nails beginning to scrape at the edge of the wooden tabletop, teeth digging almost painfully into your bottom lip.

"'sorry' doesn't even begin to fix everything you've fucked up today," his stern tone persisted, ribs aching between the pressure of the heel of his palm and the hard desk, "you know just how much stress i've been under and yet you went out of your way to make it worse."

"no, n-not that..! p-promise!" you whimpered, breath coming in pants, struggling to not rock back into his hand with the knowledge that he'd stop entirely if he noticed you doing it.

you had no choice but to keep your eyes trained on the door in front of you, thighs trembling with anticipation, muted gasps and mewls managing to find their way out into the open air despite your efforts. you knew he didn't mind the noise as long as you were making a conscious effort to keep quiet, only loud enough for him to have the pleasure of hearing, only expressing the pitiful broken attempts at showing remorse that seemed to arouse him to no end.

he curled his fingers to rub at spot inside you that made your knees weak, barely chuckling when you writhed under him. "enjoying your punishment like this... you're just a pathetic slut. That's all you'll ever be, isn't that right?"

Your head hung low as you came over his fingers, shuddering, biting firmly at the inside of your cheeks to hold back the whine threatening to escape your heaving chest. you knew you should be ashamed to be so excited in the face of his cruelty, but when it was his voice and hands—discipling you harshly but still paying such good attention to you and your body—you couldn't help yourself.

before you had enough time to begin catching your breath, you could already hear the clinking of his belt buckle as he pulled it free from the belt loops of his pants, the warmth of naked skin as the length of his cock met the back of your thighs, already hard. the hand resting at your back slid up to rest at the base of your neck, fingers working their way into your hair to firmly grasp, holding you still while he eased himself between your thighs.

"please, s-sir.." The words spilled out of you before you could even think to maintain your obedient silence, earning a tug at your hair harsh enough to jerk your head back, arching your body further.

"snd who are you to be making any demands?" He muttered scornfully, the head of his cock now rubbing directly over your dripping pussy, making no effort to do anything more than painstakingly tease.

"i'm not, i j-just—" You sucked in a quick breath as you felt a sharp sting over your ass, certain there was a reddening welt where his hand had just struck it, "i pr-promise i'll be better..."

"and how can I be certain that you actually will? you say the same thing every damn time, and you still have yet to show me any improvement."

your eyes watered as you searched for a proper response, stammering over your words for just a moment too long—long enough to reignite the anger you'd found a momentary mercy from. you just barely pressed your hand over your mouth in time to muffle your own cry as he slammed himself inside of you, the desk shifting across the ground with a harsh squeak, insides struggling to accommodate his size all at once. he found a quick, ruthless rhythm of thrusting almost immediately, paying your quick gasps and pitiful whimpers no mind, almost painfully deep.

"is this is really the only thing you're good for?" he huffed, groaning lowly despite his apparent ire, "just taking cock and nothing else?"

"n-no!" you protested, barely able to hold your voice steady enough to respond, swallowing down each hiccuped breath interrupting your words, "this is the l-last time, i swear..! p-please sir, please—"

he shushed you harshly before you could continue, large hand rubbing over the aching flesh he'd previously slapped in a silent threat to repeat the action. you wouldn't be entirely opposed to feeling his large hand strike you again and again, leaving prints of red across your skin that wouldn't fade until hours after you'd left the office for the night, but you knew that you still had the entire second half of your day ahead of you to pretend as if he hadn't completely ruined you just meters away from the rest of his hardworking employees.

"at this point, i might as well just be paying to fuck you." he muttered callously, the speed of his hips slowing the slightest bit, each thrust still hitting deep enough for you to feel in your stomach, "then what does that make you, hm? a prostitute? my personal little plaything.."

you strained to vigorously shake your head side to side, fingers aching from how tightly they were clenching around the edge of the desk, your own arousal trailing down between your trembling thighs, hot tears dribbling down your flushed cheeks. you should've felt more inclined to deny his assertion, to prove yourself to be more than just a toy for him to used whenever he desired, when he needed to take out the pent up frustration he saved for your errors and your errors only—but you knew in the back of your mind that you were perfectly content with your position, as immorally lucrative as it was. you would embarrass yourself everyday for the rest of your career if it meant you could experience this at least once more.

"sorry, s-sorry..! oh fuck, sir, 'm so sorry!" the apologies you knew he loved so much spilled from your lips in a pathetic, broken moan, eyes nearly rolling into the back of your head as you held out for a few more mind-numbing moments before cumming around his thick cock.

you barely registered his hand grasping your hair painfully tight as he grunted a few low curses beside your ear, shakily exhaling a sigh when he emptied himself inside you, finally letting you rest back against the hard surface of his desk while you both caught your breath. it was all over far too soon, the intense intimacy that never lasted longer than the half-hour of your lunch break, even though you were sure he could steal you away for far longer without anyone daring to question him.

you wiped at your damp under-eyes with quivering hands, trying to not further disturb your already ruined mascara, swallowing down a whimper when pulled himself out of you and tugged your underwear back into place, readjusting your skirt for you before moving away from your body entirely.

he had already tidied up his own clothes by the time you pushed yourself to stand, that familiar expression of cool indifference having already resettled onto his handsome features. he barely ever let you see his face when he was disciplining you, always making sure you were facing away from him, or that you couldn't lift your head enough to get a good look at his face. it made it all feel so impersonal, inspired something that felt like sadness in the back of your mind, despite how you tried to remind yourself that what you had wasn't true intimacy, and that he could really replace you any day if he felt so inclined to do so.

"go clean up in the bathroom." he said without looking at you, straightening his tie back into place and checking the time on his watch, "you will need to take a call from a new client soon, and it is imperative that you give them the perfect first impression of our company. i expect you to be back here within the next ten minutes." his brow furrowed, the look of someone who'd just thought of something unpleasant flashing across his features when he finally met your gaze. "no more exceptions today."

"yes, sir." you replied obediently, voice hoarse, quickly turning away before the weight of a sudden sadness could show, advancing towards his door as briskly as your state allowed you to. you didn't look back on your way out, even though you so desperately wanted to, maybe deliver a genuine apology now that you knew he was genuinely irritated with you.

but you didn't, and the day continued as it always did, phone calls and document filing keeping you occupied for the rest of your shift, not receiving another word from your boss regarding anything. you tried not to take it personally when he didn't bid you farewell before leaving the building, reminding yourself that it was most likely just the pressure of a busy quarter, cursing yourself for screwing things up and enjoying your momentary bliss before the true consequence of genuine disappointment from nanami anchored you back to the somber reality of your situation.

it was foolish of you to think you'd be anything more than a secretary in his eyes.

[zackcrazyvalentine]

I ONLY SENT YOU SIMPING AND BRAINROT SCENARIOS TILL NOW SO HERE I COME WITH AN ANGSTY ONE

what if ever since mc came into twisted wonderland they’ve been slowly absorbing magic ? like their body started to adapt themselves to the logic of these worlds and its just accumulate inside of them

so they’re absorbing magic but the problem is they also absorbs the blot and since they don’t have anything to clear it it just stays stagnant .

life goes on grim’s overblot is over , but then mc fainted .

well i mean who wouldn’t be tired after such battle ? multiple persons have been injured so that isn’t really that worrying right ?

well mc isn’t waking up

one day , one week , and still no sign of mc waking up .

everyone is desperate for them to wake up but nothing works . none of the potions crewel and vil worked , sam’s friends on the other side don’t have any solution , and no matter how many dark spells lilia knows it surely doesn’t help him in any ways. heck crowley even put aside his pride and asked help from rsa’s headmaster

but one day they did wake up , but something wrong . their once bright eyes were replaced by lifeless orbs , as if all the light had been sucked from them .

grim has never so guilty in his life but tried to look on the brighter side of things ! he tell them about how ace and deuce are still as stupid as ever , how riddle went off on floyd again or the way epel mocks vil behind his back when his lessons are too harsh !

but even as he looks so happy , he can’t help but feel this immense void in his heart

“hey henchmen ... when are you coming back ?”

they don’t respond when you talk to them , when you touch them , they just stare into the void .

Anon..... oh, anon..... WHY MUST YOU DO THIS TO MY HEART ?!?!?! 😭💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔

I can tolerate and soak up that good angst of the boys feeling guilty for something that happened to MC......BUT GRIM?!?!?! MY HEART, DID YOU HEAR IT SHATTER?!?!?! 😭💔💔💔💔💔💔💔

THIS IS ANGST SO MUCH ANGST

[Anon's explanation about MC's state]

-- -- --

MC is like doll now, only breathing and staring into the void. Sometimes, they follow a request or order given by someone.

Heartslabyul's tea parties aren't as merry as they used to be. MC just sits there, staring at their cup, occasionally taking sips when Riddle suggests them to try the warm drink. Ace and Deuce can't even crack a smile in the Prefect's presence, not when they're a hollow husk of their sassy self. Cater and Trey feel uncomfortable crossing stares with MC, they rarely look up from their cup or slice of tart. Deuce, more often than not, finds himself crying at night after the parties

Riddle is trying his best every night, searching through his mother's old books back home for a possible remedy... The pages are wrinkled from the many tears he's shed while reading, heart aching for their friend.

--

Ruggie feels his chores heavier than ever. It's because MC is no longer coming to lend a hand as they used to. The bags under his eyes became more prominent with how late he stays up, looking up at the ceiling as he keeps mourning for MC's lost soul.

Jack is seen more often in his wolf form, howling at the moon... Anything to shed his tears and scream his sorrow out in a less noticeable way. He often struts over to MC while they're sitting outside Ramshackle, and pushes his furry head into their lap and hands, wishing HOPING to one day feel their delicate hands pet him again.

Everyone can see how Leona secludes himself to his room, people have begun comparing him to Idia.... But, unlike what they think, he's not sleeping. On the contrary, he's staying awake, tearing through many books from his homeland about occult magic and resurrection. After all, only someone with enough money would be able to buy such forbidden knowledge.

He won't let his herbivore live on like this, not if his country knows a way to bring them back.

--

Azul could feel himself thread the edge of insanity. Would it kill him to go through a second overblot? ....would that be better than living on without MC's company?

He will search far and wide through all of Wonderland's oceans and lakes, lagoons and swamps, for a Unique Magic holder than can revert back the blot... or time.... He will give his everything away in a contract to have such magic as his

Jade and Floyd can see the deep cracks in Azul, he's turning into an unfit leader.... It would be best for them to take his role

But they don't want to, for their hearts are cracked like his

Floyd is easier to go on rampages, and Jade is so indifferent to the word outside of his hobbies. If it weren't for their collective love for MC, Floyd would have tried hurting them to see if that wakes MC up.

They never felt so empty and unamused

--

Kalim's heart physical aches whenever he sees Grim and MC. He's tried, tried all he could

Singing, dancing, playing music, throwing million parties, hugging them, whispering how much he loves them right on their ear... but nothing

He may not be the smartest, but the white haired boy is perseverant and eager to learn: he spends his days in the alchemy room along with Vil and Crewel, researching the poison that is a magician's blot

Jamil never felt so useless, mind clouded with many "if only" scenarios that make him blame himself for MC's situation

If only he hadn't overblotted, if only he hadn't sent them flying off to the ends of the earth, if only he had noticed the poison clinging to their soul sooner.... If only....

Why didn't he realize the blot developing in their body? It was only natural, after spending so much time in Twisted Wonderland without any buffer for the magical energy on this place

If only he could take their place...

--

Vil never left the alchemy room or Pomefiore's underground laboratory. He spent every day researching how to revert MC's ailments

He only ever left the labs to go into Ramshackle and help the Prefect prepare for the day. Whenever he got to putting on their makeup, Vil can't help but cry at how hollow and dull they look, when they used to be such a warm and radiant soul

Rook was on the same boat, taking his science club duties more serious than ever. He would search in every single ecosystem for any plant, mushroom, hunt down any animal, organ that was needed for even the slightest help for MC

And Epel.... All he could do was scream and punch his pillow, cursing fate and how sick the world is. What did an innocent, magicless person from another world do to deserve this?!

He will often go sit besides MC and carve apples for them, of their favorite flower, their zodiac sign, their favorite animal, and those carvings they loved most of his

...but the fruits will always rot, just like their once beautiful soul

--

Idia, who was already barely seen outside, hides deeper in his room

The internet is a place full of information, knowledge... Forbidden knowledge

The shut-in and his little brother are always monitoring EVERY SINGLE portal on the internet, be it on the surface or deep DEEP down in the depths

But what tortures him the most.... Is his very own room This is the place he mad many memories with MC in, every corner of his room echoes with their laughter and gentle voice Like a ghost haunting him from now until forever

Ortho is left to wonder how fickle a human's soul is, their body so fragile But was this really in their fate? Or was it an unexpected outcome not even destiny could foretell?

"I miss you... I want to play more. Wake up soon, [Name][Surname]-san" A strange wavering in his voice was heard, followed by a knot in his throat.

--

Diasomia dorm is always under a storm cloud, green lightning striking the ground surrounding it

Fae have magic beyond a simple human's comprehension, even more so dark fae There MUST be someone in Valley of Thorns that will heed the Prince's call for aid

"The story of old..." Malleus muttered one night, snapping even the sleep-prone knight into attention. "Calls... for True Love's kiss, after the princess was cursed."

Lilia can feel his heart ache for the young dragon. "These are very different situations, Malleus." Yet the bat utters no words

Sebek understands what his precious Lord is getting to. "I shall ask Grim to leave the door open tomorrow night."

Silver nodded along his fellow guard, "If there is anything we can procure, do not hesitate on asking for it, Malleus-sama"

Vanrouge sighed, "It doesn't hurt to try." "Steady heart, goal clear in mind. Do not waver in your actions, my Prince, hesitation never helps when working with curses."

The disheveled royal finally straightened up, eyes red and puffy from how long he's cried and how little he sleeps. "Sebek, go to Ramshackle. We must try it out... now"

--

Grim dealt with the worst blow

It unsettled him to live with such a different MC. Even the Ghosts were unsettled and hurting from what happened to their friend.

"But I will keep sleeping on your chest, ye hear?! As long as I keep hearing your heartbeat, I will guide you back with my warmth and my blue flames! Just.... just make sure to follow my path, yes?"

"[Name]... we miss you so much... don't leave yet, not yet, not like this..."

"Follow my flames, like I always followed your light... Please?"

-- -- --

My heart was shattered right as I was all happy and giggly about Disney savvy MC stuff.... B O Y, WAS I NOT HAPPY ABOUT IT

SO NOW YOU COME SUFFER WITH ME

[mercy-burning]

Petite Etoile

Pairing: Spencer Reid x femReader Summary: BAU!Reader used to be a stripper, and when people where she used to work are being murdered, the team is called in to investigate. Category: Fluff, Smut 18+ (oral sex- male and female receiving, penetrative sex, Reader also does a stripping performance) Warnings: Sex, language, mentions of murder/violence and all the things you’d normally find in an episode of Criminal Minds. (As always, if there’s anything I missed, let me know what I should include in warnings! I want to be as mindful as I can about what I post. Thank you!) Word Count: 7.8k

MASTERLIST

NOTE: This is going up way later than I said it would, so I’m sorry if you were looking forward to this, I just haven’t been motivated lately. But  I really have to get out of my writing slump, and I’m hoping I can do that soon. Anyway, I hope you like it! Thanks for reading 🥰 Also, I know that Don’t Blame Me by Taylor Swift doesn’t exist at the time of early season 2, which is when I imagine this taking place, but for the sake of the story let’s pretend it does, because that’s the song I had in mind when I wrote the performance scene 😉😂

***

When Y/N walked into work Thursday morning, everything was as normal as it could be. She chatted with Elle on her way up the elevator, handed JJ her coffee as she made her way to Hotch's office, and ruffled Reid's hair when she passed him, smiling at the way he blushed at her affectionate gesture.

But when the team was called into the round-table room, and she watched as JJ presented their next case, Y/N felt a little sick to her stomach.

Over the past week, three strippers from the town she'd lived in for years before moving to Virginia had been found stabbed in various parts of the block surrounding Starsight. She knew the place well. Not only did she used to work there as a stripper after she graduated, but her best friend, Irene, owned the establishment, and she'd practically become the sister Y/N never had. She helped her through college and pushed her to go into the Bureau. If people, Irene's people, were dying, why hadn't she called or said anything?

Thankfully Y/N didn't recognize any of the dancers who'd been killed, because if she had, she'd feel a lot worse. But even still, she wanted to find who was behind it, and she would. The BAU always did. And with her background knowledge of the scene and the town, Y/N figured she might be able to lend an extra helping hand.

But first she had to tell the team about her past.

It wasn't a secret that she used to be a stripper. In fact, it wasn't really something she was able to hide. With someone as curious as Penelope Garcia in her life, Y/N wouldn't have been able to hide it even if she wanted to. Thankfully though, besides the occasional teasing comment from Morgan, and sometimes Elle, the team didn't treat her any differently. She wasn't Y/N The Former Stripper, she was just Y/N. She was good at her job, and everyone respected and liked her just the way she was.

While debriefing on the jet, she was about to bring it up when Morgan did it first, seemingly sly like he'd discovered some big secret. "Hey, Y/N, didn't you used to live near this place?"

She nodded, clearing her throat. "Uh, yeah, that's actually what I was going to bring up. Starsight is where I used to work before I moved here. I know the owner of the place, she's one of my best friends."

She could tell Morgan wanted to tease her some more about her previous work, but before he could get a word in Gideon spoke from behind her. "Irene Whitcomb?"

"Yeah."

"Good, when we land I want you, Morgan, and Reid to go talk to her. See if you can find anything out."

Y/N nodded, and in front of her, she noticed Reid was a little flushed. It didn't surprise her considering when everyone found out her previous job, he almost choked on his coffee, and Morgan laughed hysterically while he had a coughing fit. It was obvious to Y/N from the beginning that Spencer had had a little crush on her, and it didn't bother her at all. Every once in a while she'd pat his knee before she got up from her seat next to him or wink at him as they saw each other briefly in passing, just to see how he'd react, and by now it was a staple of their relationship. It never did go any further than that though, Y/N afraid she might make him too uncomfortable.

But even still, she couldn't help but give him a flirty smile as he blinked rapidly in front of her, still seeming to process what was going to happen when they landed. When he excused himself to go to the bathroom, she gave him one more wink and a small bite of her lip as he passed.

Morgan laughed softly beside her. "You're gonna ruin the poor kid if you keep that up, girlie."

"I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about," she responded, even though the smile on her face suggested otherwise.

***

A strip club being almost at full capacity in the middle of the day was more common than one might think. It had surprised Y/N when she first started working at Starsight, and even now she still didn't really understand why. Regardless it was almost 3pm, and if things had stayed the same over the years, which by the looks of things seemed to be the case, Irene should have been behind the bar.

It must have been a sight to behold, Y/N mused as she and her colleagues navigated through the club in search of its owner, and it sounded like the beginning to a bad joke— a former stripper turned FBI agent, a guy who looks like he just walked straight out of a procedural cop show, and an adorably and obviously nervous skinny kid with glasses and trembling hands walk into a strip club at 3pm... The thought made Y/N laugh to herself, right before Irene spotted her.

"Y/N!"

It was obvious that she wanted to jump over the bar and give her old friend a hug, but given the circumstances, Irene settled for dropping a shot glass, spilling the drink on the counter, and clapping her hands quickly a few times in succession. A wide smile and kind eyes greeted the three agents as they approached.

"Irene, hi," Y/N greeted with a large smile of her own. "I wish I could have came to visit under better circumstances."

"Right, me too..." The blonde woman's smile faded for a second, just long enough that the recognizable signs of grief came and go quickly before replacing themselves with bittersweet niceties. "Anyway, you wanna introduce me to your friends?"

"Yeah, Irene, these are my colleagues, Derek Morgan and Spencer Reid."

Irene reached out to shake their hands, eyeing up Morgan with only the slightest bit of shame, and laughing softly at Reid's polite avoidance of the gesture as he settled on a wave and a shy smile.

"We were hoping to ask you a few questions about the past week," Morgan said.

"Yeah, anything. Just give me a minute to clean this up and we can sit down."

***

"So, you used to work here?"

Y/N laughed, kicking Derek under the table. "Yep. Looks exactly the same as when I left, too. Only difference is that I'm not here to bring everyone in on Friday nights."

As Derek laughed, Spencer tensed up beside Y/N, and he started to play with his hands under the table they all sat at.

"She's not joking," Irene said as she approached the table with a smile. She took the seat next to Morgan and gave him a wink. "Petite Etoile over here was the main attraction."

Y/N groaned a little. "Oh, c'mon Irene, don't use my nickname here, that's not who I am anymore."

"Don't tell me you've lost your shine, Little Star." From the tone in her voice to the look on her face, it was clear to Y/N that Irene was just as devious as she'd been since the day they first met. "You know it would just break this town's heart."

"I highly doubt that... Besides, this little star shines just as brightly as it used to, thank you very much."

At that statement, Y/N felt Reid's knee hit the table with a loud thud. As Morgan questioned whether he was okay, she wondered what was running through his head. It didn't last long though, because shortly afterwards Morgan started asking questions about the case.

"Was it particularly crowded on the nights the dancers were killed?"

Irene hugged her arms to her stomach, her eyes drooping a little at the mention. "It gets pretty crowded every night to tell you the truth. But Friday nights are busiest. The nights Carrie, Lola, and Evelyn disappeared were just like any other night here."

"I know how hard it is to keep track of everyone, but is there anyone you might have noticed that seemed a little too lurk-y?" Even as she asked the question, Y/N felt like she already knew the answer.

And Irene really did seem to try to recall something, anything that could help, but she was visibly frustrated, tears welling in her eyes. "No, Y/N, I'm so sorry. After Carrie... the first time... we heightened security and everything, but it just wasn't enough, I... I don't know what to do."

Y/N reached across the table to grab her friend's hand. "It's okay, 'Rene. We're gonna figure this out, alright? I promise you."

Through tears, the blonde smiled and squeezed Y/N's hand. "I know you will, Little Star."

"Would it be possible for us to look at your surveillance tapes?" Reid asked quietly.

Irene looked up at him and nodded, still squeezing Y/N's hand. "Anything you need."

***

"So... Little Star, huh?"

Y/N rolled her eyes with a smile as she, Morgan, and Reid got into the car. When she got in the passenger seat, she waited for Morgan to be in the car before responding. "Oh, don't start. I swear to God, Derek, if you start calling me that I might just have to kick your ass."

"Well, you gotta at least tell me how you got the name?" he laughed, putting on his seatbelt while Reid climbed in the back.

"Well, how do you think? The place is called Starsight after all... So, Petite Etoile just made sense."

It was obvious that she was lying to get him to drop it, so Morgan kept pushing. "Okay, sure, but that's not the whole truth. Carrie, Lola, and Evelyn didn't have star names."

"Ugh, okay, fine, if I tell you will you shut up about it?"

"Promise."

Y/N caught a glimpse of Reid in the back through the rearview mirror. As expected, he was fidgety and just a little red.

She sighed and waited until Morgan pulled out of the parking lot to talk. "Okay. Once every month Starsight does a 'Midnight Sky' theme night. They light the place up in deep blue lights and everyone wears... space-themed outfits. Every dancer does their own special routine with songs and outfits that they pick on their own. My first time working a theme night, everyone seemed to really like what I did; I ended up doing an encore later in the night before we closed. Another dancer who worked with us at the time, Jenny, was learning French, so after my performance she called me Petite Etoile, and it just stuck."

"Okay, but why did you get the nickname and no one else?" Morgan asked with a smug smile. He knew she was still holding something back.

"Do you really want to know?"

"Yes, Y/N, I really want to know."

She sighed. "Let's... just say my outfit was... well, it barely covered me, and what it did manage to cover was covered by fabric in the shape of stars."

While Morgan laughed, Y/N looked in the mirror to see Reid with his head low, even more red than he was before. He was biting his bottom lip and fiddling the the seatbelt strap, and when his eyes briefly met hers in the mirror he was quick to avoid eye contact once again. If Y/N didn't find it completely adorable she would have felt more badly about it. But just to make sure, she called out to him.

"Reid, you okay back there?"

He looked up to meet her eyes again through the mirror, but only briefly before trying to ook anywhere else. "O-oh, yeah, I'm... I'm good."

Morgan laughed. "Yeah, I bet you are."

Y/N punched him in the arm and met Reid's eyes once more. "Sorry."

"Oh, you don't have anything to be sorry about, it's... it's okay, really, I-I'm not... it's..."

"Hey, don't worry about it," Y/N said calmly, giving him a reassuring smile. "We're all good here, right?"

"Right," Morgan and Reid said one after the other.

"Good. Now let's catch this creep."

***

Unfortunately no one had gotten much of anywhere in the next few hours. The security footage showed a man following each of the girls out of Starsight but there wasn't anything distinctive about him. Somehow he'd avoided all the cameras face to face, so he knew where they all were. And as for how he chose which dancers to target they weren't sure.

Until Irene walked into the station, that is.

"Y/N, I completely forgot something! I can't believe I missed it."

She stood before the team in the office that the station had given them for the time being, everyone else sitting down. Y/N stood up and nodded. "What is it?"

"Carrie, Lola, and Evelyn were all Spotlight Performers."

"What does that mean?" Elle asked from behind them.

Y/N turned to the group, her arms crossed. "Every other night Starsight spotlights a different dancer for a large performance at the end of the night, sort of like a grand finale before the club closes."

"So you're saying each of the girls was the Spotlight Performer on the nights they went missing?" Hotch asked, more like a clarification than a question.

"Yeah, Carrie on Saturday, Lola on Monday, and Evelyn on Wednesday," Irene said frantically.

Y/N reached out to grab her hand. "Well, it's Thursday. So, if he sticks to pattern, he's going after tomorrow's Spotlight Performer. Who do you have lined up?"

"Well, no one yet. After the murders the girls have been hesitant to schedule, and I don't blame them... So what should I do?"

Before Y/N could answer, Hotch did. "Y/L/N, you haven't gone undercover before, but I think it would be a good idea. You used to work at Starsight, you could lure him out."

She turned around sharply. "Oh, I... I don't know, Hotch, I haven't danced in so long, I'm not sure I—"

"He's right," Gideon interrupted. "It's the best chance we have at catching him."

Between Hotch and Gideon's opinions on the matter, Y/N knew she didn't have a say anymore.

"You still know your routine, Petite Etoile?" Irene asked, only slightly amused.

"Petite Etoile?" Elle wondered aloud.

Y/N heard Morgan laugh and she sighed.

***

"If I didn't know any better I'd say you were nervous," Irene said as she straightened another piece of Y/N's hair.

She played with the hem of the sheer robe she was wearing. "Well, I'm about to go undercover for the first time, stripping for the first time in years in front of all my colleagues so I can lure out a serial killer, so I guess you could say I'm a little nervous."

"Well... When you put it like that..."

Y/N looked up at her friend. "I'm sorry, Irene. Really, I'm okay, and we will get him, I promise."

"No, I know you will. I'm not worried. So... Who do they have watching you tonight?"

"Gideon and Hotch are outside, but Elle, Morgan, and Reid are in here with me. There are some extra officers all around the block, too, just in case."

"Hmm," Irene mused, and Y/N could tell she wanted to say something.

"What?"

"I don't know, it just surprises me they'd send Reid in here of all people. He seems almost more nervous than you."

Y/N laughed. "Well, when it comes to girls he gets a little nervous, but... he's good at his job."

"I'll take your word for it. But I also wouldn't be surprised if he short circuits when he sees you up there."

The thought made her smile a little, though she wondered how badly Morgan would tease him about the whole situation. Things between them all would no doubt be a little awkward for a while, but in no time they'd go back to normal like it never happened. At least that's what she told herself, because she wasn't sure what she'd do if her friendship with Reid was permanently damaged and awkward because of her past. The thought worried her just a little, but before she could get too psyched out, a knock at the door brought her back to reality.

"Y/N, it's Elle."

"Come on in!"

Y/N got up from the chair and turned around to meet Elle in the doorway. Her eyes wandered for a moment before nodding with a smirk. "Damn. Petite Etoile indeed."

Despite the nerves, Y/N smiled. "You here to give me an earpiece?"

Elle nodded and closed the door behind her. As she turned on the device and handed it to Y/N, she spoke. "You nervous?"

"A little, but it's just because I haven't done this in a while. Not to mention I'm doing it in front of everyone, and I'm luring out the unsub."

"No pressure, right?"

Y/N laughed, adjusting the earpiece and taking a deep breath. "It'll be fine. How long until I go on?"

"Five minutes. I'll be near the front with Reid. Morgan is in the back with a few officers, and everyone else is outside. We all have communication with you, so if we see him we'll let you know what to look out for."

"Got it."

"Y/L/N, can you hear me?" It was Hotch's voice through the earpiece.

"Yeah, loud and clear."

"Good. We're all in position. Whenever you're ready."

***

Elle met him near the front of the stage. To say he was nervous would be an understatement. Spencer didn't have a problem with strip clubs in the least, but it was bad enough that he'd thought about Y/N on multiple occasions in his dreams, now he was going to have to see her stripping just like he'd imagined many times over. The whole situation spelled out disaster, and if she didn't already know he had a crush on her, she most certainly would when the night was over.

As Elle approached him, he took a deep breath and stretched out his hands to calm his nerves. "She okay?"

Elle nodded. "Ready to go. I'm gonna stand on the other side of the stage, keep a look out for anyone who seems like he could be our guy."

"Right."

Before she left, Elle patted him on the shoulder and smiled knowingly. "Oh, and Reid... Try not to get distracted."

Yeah. He was fucked.

When the music that was playing stopped and the lights started to shift, Spencer took another deep breath. Irene's familiar voice came through the speakers.

"Thank you for coming to Starsight. Tonight's Spotlight Performer is a special one. Returning to the stage for the first time in years, shining brighter and better than ever before, give it up for our very own little star, Petite Etoile!"

A deep, seductive song that Spencer didn't recognize replaced Irene's voice as the lights shifted again, and the crowd around him applauded. It was just as crowded as it had been when he, Morgan, and Y/N met Irene the day before, but with a serial killer no doubt present and Y/N about to come on stage, everything felt heavier.

A dark silhouette broke through fog on the stage, and even though Spencer knew it was Y/N, it didn't feel real. He'd only ever seen her at work, in work clothes, and sometimes in casual clothes when they all went out for drinks on occasion.

So when she finally came into view, her hair tumbling down her back and shoulders rather than in a ponytail, and wearing almost nothing at all, he wasn't even sure it was her for a split second. But the way she looked, her magnetic presence and the way she carried herself across the stage was so remarkably her it was hard to miss. Everything about her confidence was elevated in that moment, and his own confidence—in his job and ability to function as a human being—was completely shattered when she caught his eye. It was just a split second, but that was all it took.

She must have noticed, because she gave him a small smile and a wink before turning her attention to the rest of the crowd as the music built. Spencer cleared his throat softly before glancing around, trying his best to scan everyone for anything suspicious. When he was sure there was nothing around him to be concerned about, he reluctantly let his eyes wander back to the stage.

By now Y/N had rid herself of the sheer robe that was on her, leaving her in a deep blue one-piece... contraption was the only word he could come up with. It was all connected by thin straps of fabric that weaved around every curve of her body, crisscrossing and leaving little to the imagination. Just like she'd described back in the car yesterday, small patches of fabric shaped like stars covered the front of her breasts and...

The second he looked down, she squatted, spreading her legs open and rolling her hips, exposing almost the entire front three rows of people to her barely-clothed pussy.

Spencer felt his cheeks grow warm as he quickly averted his gaze and pretended to survey the crowd again. To his credit, he did really search for anyone who could be the unsub, but the whole time he heard the song and the cheering crowd, and in turn Y/N occupied almost every corner of his brain.

When he finally had the courage to look at the stage again, she was making her way to a chair in the middle. Every step was on beat to the music and purposeful. She danced around the chair for a bit before another big beat drop in the song happened, and she squatted in front of it quickly, rolling her hips as she slowly got up.

Her eyes found his once more as she mouthed along to the words of the song, almost like she was singing directly to him. He wouldn't have thought anything of it, but she held his gaze for much longer than he'd been able to handle, and she knew exactly what she was doing. Which was made evident when she bit her bottom lip and ran her hands down her body, stopping at her knees before she sat in the chair and spread her legs, her hands finally dragging along the insides of her thigh.

Her eyes remained on him the entire time.

Butterflies immediately erupted in his stomach at her intensity, stronger than they'd ever been before. He'd always felt it when she affectionately ruffled his hair or patted his knee in passing, but now? She wasn't even touching him and he was about to crumble to the ground.

Thankfully something in his ear saved him from that. "I've got a visual." It was Morgan. "He's in the back, black long sleeve and jeans. Buzzcut. Y/N, look up at me and blink three times when you see him."

Reid looked up and and noticed her doing it. To anyone else it wouldn't have seemed out of pace, but he could tell she was a little rattled. In any case, she broke contact with Morgan and continued on with her performance as if nothing happened.

Though it meant there was most definitely a serial killer in the room and he would follow Y/N out of the club later, Spencer was glad for the past minute, because he wasn't sure how much more of the performance he could take. Suddenly there was a job to focus on again, and he was thankful for that.

***

"You're sure you're okay?"

Y/N laughed as she approached her motel room, phone in hand. "Yeah, Irene, I'm okay. Promise. He got a hold on me but my team was there to stop him before he did anything. No nicks or bruises or anything."

"Okay... You were great out there by the way. If you weren't such a kick-ass FBI agent now, I'd ask you to come back."

Laughing, she turned her head and noticed Reid at the end of the hall, walking to his room. He caught her eye and gave a shy smile before disappearing behind the door and closing himself off from her. She contemplated a moment before starting her journey to his room. "Well, I'm glad we could help. Maybe if I find myself in town again, I'll stop by."

"Yeah, you better. Though I'd prefer if a serial killer wasn't involved."

"You and me both. I'll come see you before we leave tomorrow morning, yeah?"

"Yeah. Goodnight, Petite Etoile."

With an affectionate roll of her eyes, Y/N nodded though her friend wouldn't be able to see. "Night."

She hung up and put the phone in her bag, taking a deep breath before knocking on Reid's door.

The answer was almost immediate. He stood before her, and it looked like he'd just gotten undressed, wearing grey pajama bottoms and a white tee shirt. "Oh, Y/N, h-hi," he stammered, pushing his glasses up his nose a little. "What's up?"

"Do you... mind if I come in? I know it might sound a little weird but I don't really want to be alone right now..." It was true. Though she was okay after catching the unsub, the idea of being alone after everything that happened was sure to leave a small ache that wouldn't let her sleep, and having company would make a good cure.

"Oh, no, that isn't weird at all. Uh, sure, come on in." He stepped aside and opened the door wider to let her through. She smiled gratefully as she passed him, careful to notice the faint color that adorned his cheeks.

When he closed the door behind them, she set her bag down on the floor and turned to meet him, playing with the sleeve of the FBI jacket she was wearing. Before leaving Starsight, she'd changed into underwear, leggings, and a thin tee shirt. She debated taking the jacket off, but knowing how much of her body her colleague and friend had no doubt seen that night, she figured for his sake she'd leave it on. At least for now.

"I know it's late and we should probably get to bed, but... Truthfully I don't know how well I'll be able to sleep."

Spencer seemed concerned. "You're... you're okay? He didn't hurt you badly, did he?"

"Oh! No, he didn't, I'm just... rattled, that's all. I'll be okay, really. It's just that I haven't... performed in a long time, and all of that added on to being serial killer bait was just... eventful. That's all."

"Well, if it makes you feel better, you were great."

Y/N raised an eyebrow, a small smirk playing at her lips. "Oh?"

"Oh, I mean at handling the unsub. Not that you weren't great at the other thing, of course! I just... I just meant that... I didn't mean... Um..."

"Hey, it's okay, I'm... I'm not mad or anything, I'm... flattered."

The redness on Spencer's face became more vivid under the dim glow of the room. "I- Really?"

Y/N smiled and took a step closer. "Mhmm. Y'know... Truthfully it was really hard for me not to look at you the whole time. Out of everyone in that whole room, I wanted to see only you."

His gaze wandered up and down her body briefly before meeting her eyes. "You did?"

"Mhmm," she said again. Her hand reached out to graze his bare arm, and he shivered under her light touch. "You can stop me if this is too weird, but... I really like you, Spence... Like, a lot. And, I think it's pretty obvious that you like me, too. Am I wrong?"

He swallowed. "Um... No. You're not wrong."

She was only inches away from him now, her hands gently caressing his shoulders and chest. She looked up at him through her eyelashes and smiled. "Do you want to kiss me as badly as I want to kiss you right now?"

"Um... T-truthfully I think I might want... to kiss you more..."

Y/N laughed and balled his shirt in one hand, the other snaking up to the back of his head and running through his hair. "Okay, then... You gonna prove it, or what?"

He bit his lip softly before leaning down and capturing her lips in a kiss that made her dizzy. Her hands tightened their grip on him, and the second her lips parted, he wasted no time gently swiping his tongue across her bottom lip, his confidence growing with every second. She groaned into him, pulling her body flush against his and forcing him to wrap his arms around her waist to keep steady.

They pulled away for air eventually, and by the gleam in his eyes when she looked at him, she knew exactly what she had to do.

"No one is rooming with you, right?"

"N-no. It's just me."

"Good." She whispered it seductively as she removed her hands from him and slowly unzipped her jacket, keeping eye contact with Spencer the whole time. Except, of course, when his eyes glanced down to see the progress the zipper was making. Once she slid it off her shoulders and let it drop to the floor, he took her in, his tongue dancing behind his lips.

She let him have a few more seconds before taking a step forward and kissing him again, both of her hands cradling his face and bringing her thumbs to gently rub his cheeks. He melted into her completely, wrapping his arms around her again in no time. While their kisses were slow and passionate for a minute, eventually they grew hungrier, and Y/N hadn't even realized they'd been moving until they were toppling onto the bed, Spencer falling back and her landing on top of him.

They broke apart only for a moment to adjust themselves, but went right back to each other once Y/N straddled his legs and he leaned back on his hands to keep himself upright.

Her hands played in his hair as she kissed him, each brush of her tongue against his sending him into a downward spiral. He'd only ever dreamed of this, and even then, this was better than any dream. Y/N herself was better than any dream.

She ground her hips against him, causing him to groan into her mouth, and he pushed himself forward to be closer, needing to be completely wrapped up in her for as long as he could. When she pulled her mouth from his and settled her hands on his shoulders to keep him from moving, he whined a little, the sound completely taking the both of them aback.

She smiled and cocked her head to the side. "I've thought about this for so long... You have no idea how many times I've wanted to kiss you since we met."

"Really?"

With a nod, Y/N toyed with the collar of his shirt, tugging it and slowly grinding her hips against him again. "Have you ever thought about it?"

It was a question they both obviously knew the answer to, but she wanted to have some fun. She loved seeing how shy he got, it made her want him even more.

"Yes... I... I think about you a lot," he breathed, blinking at her as she slid her hands down his chest and found the bottom of his shirt. She smiled and raised it up, her touch sending shivers all over his body.

"What have you thought about? Any specifics?" she asked once his shirt was all the way off. Her fingers found their way to his neck again as she pulled herself closer.

"Oh, I... Um... I-I've thought about... kissing you on the jet in front of everyone."

Y/N smiled and pushed his glasses up his nose, then traced her finger down over his lips and hooked it under his chin to tilt his head up, exposing his neck. "I've thought about that, too... You know what else?"

Spencer blinked at her, urging her to continue.

She leaned forward and kissed the underside of his jaw, then his neck, leaving small kisses in between every soft word. "I've thought about how good your hands would feel on me." Her hand grabbed one of his and brought it to rest on her side, slipping under her shirt. "Have you ever thought about touching me?"

"Yes," he breathed as she moved her mouth back up his jaw and to the corner of his mouth.

She brought her lips just inches from his, and he could feel them just barely as she spoke. "Do it. Please."

And then she let go of him, bringing both her hands to his face as she kissed him again. Her legs wrapped around him tighter as he used both of his hands to grip her sides. As soon as they knew they were stable enough not to fall backwards, Spencer slid his hands slowly up her torso and barely ghosted over her breasts. She could tell he was a little hesitant, so she pushed further into him, practically trapping his hands in between their chests. Her kisses grew deeper and more desperate as he palmed her breasts, letting a moan or two slip out to encourage him further.

Thankfully it worked, because with every passing second he got more confident with his touches. When Y/N moved her hips against his again, he sighed into her mouth and brought one of his hands out from under her shirt and to her head, running his fingers through her hair.

At this point he was noticeably hard beneath her, and she was desperate to feel more of him. So Y/N peeled herself away from Spencer and snuck her hand down to play with the waistband of his pants. "You wouldn't happen to have a condom on you, would you?"

"Oh, uh, a-actually Morgan gave me one as a joke last week. It's, uh, in my wallet. In my bag."

Y/N laughed. "Sounds like him. Why don't you go grab it."

He nodded as she got up off of him. While he walked over to his bag, Y/N quickly removed her shirt and leggings, leaving her only in a pair of thin black panties that were almost too small. Before he turned around, she sat back on the edge of the bed and spread her legs wide, leaning back on her elbows as she waited.

If she didn't know any better she would have thought that when he turned around, his eyes were going to fall out of his head. He took small steps towards the bed, and she made the 'come here' motion with her finger. "Take your pants off for me?"

He all but scrambled to get them off, and Y/N smiled affectionately at him as she watched, hoping to calm his nerves by letting him know that he had nothing to be nervous about.

But just to be sure, she told him as much anyway. "You've got nothing to worry about, Spence. Trust me, I... I want this."

Once his pants were off, he met her at the edge of the bed, standing in between her legs. "I do too, I just... It's just that I've only ever... done this before once, and... I'm not very experienced, and I don't want to disappoint you."

Y/N sat up and grabbed his hips, leaning forward to press small, soft kisses to his stomach as she looked up at him. "You could never disappoint me. Promise."

Once she was sure he was a little more relaxed, she moved her kisses lower, until they reached the waistband of his underwear. She hooked her fingers under it and slid them down slowly, keeping eye contact with him until they dropped to the floor. Only then did she look down at his dick, and it was even better than she imagined.

Giving a satisfied hum, she pressed a soft kiss to the tip and fluttered her eyes up to meet his, the look on his face completely awe-struck. She took the tip of his dick in between her lips and sucked gently, swirling her tongue around it as she watched his mouth fall open, a sigh escaping. She could tell he was holding back a little, so she traced her finger along the length of him and kept sucking lightly at the tip, hoping to get some noise out of him.

Y/N took him in her mouth completely, bobbing her head up and down just a few times to get him wet before removing her lips with a pop. When she gripped him firmly with one hand and steadily began to stroke him, he finally gave her what she hoped for.

"Y/N," he groaned, just above a whisper. His eyes were closed, but he opened them when she stopped.

"You wanna put it on or should I?" she asked.

"Spencer turned the small packet over in his hand before nodding. "I can do it."

Y/N scooted farther onto the bed and slid off her panties as he got to work, and thankfully he wasn't as nervous anymore. He moved to take off his glasses, but she stopped him. "Keep them on?"

The devious grin on her face made him blush, and he nodded, crawling over the top of her and pressing tentative kisses to her stomach, only he travelled downward instead of up to her mouth.

"You don't have t—"

"I want to," he reassured, kissing her inner thighs. "Truth be told, Y/N, I've thought about doing this, too. Is that okay?"

"Yes," she responded clearly, extremely turned on by the needy tone in his voice.

Almost immediately after she answered, his tongue darted out to taste her, swiping gently over her clit and sending her into a state of speechlessness. She leaned up on her elbows to watch as Spencer took his time, exploring and savoring every inch of her. She knew now why he'd wanted to take his glasses off, but if anything the sight of them riding up his face as he ate her out made the whole thing even hotter.

"Fuck, Spence, that... that feels so fucking good," she breathed, trying to keep her eyes open to look at him but ultimately failing.

Her words emboldened him, and he slipped a finger slowly inside her, his tongue paying special attention to her clit. He worked them together in a slow, sensual rhythm that eventually drove her to the edge. And she told him so.

"You're gonna make me cum," she breathed, willing herself to open her eyes. She found him staring up at her as best as he could in his position, the hungry sparkle in his eye pushing her further. What finally pushed her over the edge was when he sucked gently on her clit and groaned against her as she called out his name. Everything blinded her for a moment as she rocked her hips against his face, needing to hang on to every last second of her orgasm.

When she finally came down, Spencer pulled away and adjusted his glasses, to which Y/N bit her lip and moaned once more. "You're sure you've only ever done this once?"

He laughed a little, sucking his fingers clean with a shrug before answering. "Yeah, but I'm a quick-study."

Y/N smiled and reached one of her arms out to him. "Come here, quick-study."

The two of them smiled as their lips found one another, her hands flying to his hair once again. His hands gripped her waist, and his dick pressed up against her lower stomach, making her groan against him.

Without another word, Y/N hooked her legs around his waist and shifted their weight, rolling them over so she was straddling him now. Spencer reached up to move her hair to one side of her face, and then soon after she sat up, placing her hands on his chest.

"I'll tell you something else I've thought about," she said lowly, scratching down his chest just lightly enough to give him goosebumps. She then used one of her hands to grip his dick and lifted her hips up, running the head of him through her wetness as she looked down at him. "I've thought about how good you would look while I ride you. More than once, actually."

She sank down onto him, just a little, and his face sure enough twitched in pleasure, making Y/N smile to herself. "What about you? You ever imagine me riding this pretty cock?"

"Fuck, Y/N, yes, I— Oh my god..."

She sat down completely, rocking her hips forward a little and pressing her hands harder into his chest. "Fuck, you feel so good..."

She set a slow pace, making sure to pay extra attention to Spencer's face as she worked him. Just like she'd done before, he seemed to have a hard time keeping his eyes open, but his hands gripped her hips so tightly she was sure they'd leave bruises. The thought of that spurred her on, and she picked up the pace, bouncing steadily on his cock.

"Ohhh, fuck," she groaned, her hands leaving his torso to grab her breasts. He opened his eyes and watched her, letting out a soft moan of his own. His hands slid up her sides and under hers, replacing them with his own firm grip. She leaned forward a little so he wouldn't have to reach up that far, placing both of her hands on either side of his waist.

"Tell me," she managed to say as she continued riding him. "You ever think about fucking me at work? In the round-table room or over my desk? I know I have..."

He continued to pinch and pull at her nipples while barely being able to keep his eyes open. "Y-yes... Fuck, Y/N, I think about you all the time..."

"Feeling's mutual. Sit up for me?"

Spencer opened his eyes and she helped him sit up. They adjusted for a second before she wrapped her arms around his neck and started moving again, rocking her hips into his and giving him a better angle to hit inside her deeper.

"Fuck, baby, you feel so good," she breathed against his lips before she kissed him, missing the feel of his lips on hers. Their bodies clung together perfectly, every movement feeling better than the last, until they were both obviously close to coming undone.

Sure enough, the moment she squeezed her legs together and clenched herself around him, he groaned into her mouth and bucked his hips forward. "Y/N... I..."

She pressed her forehead to his and tugged at his hair, quickening her pace just a little and feeling herself geting close as well. Any moment now and she would feel it.

"Me, too," she breathed, brushing her nose against his. Within a matter of seconds, they were both unraveling, sighing out each others' names and holding on to each other for dear life as they rode out their highs.

Eventually Y/N slowed her hips to a stop, and she slumped against him, pressing one final kiss to his lips before she got off his lap and pulled him down to lay beside her, immediately snuggling into his side and burying her face in the crook of his neck.

"So, was that better than you imagined?" she murmured against his neck, pressing kisses along collarbone.

Spencer laughed and pulled her even closer. "Even better. No dream could ever do you justice."

She smiled, feeling herself growing sleepy. "You sap... But, for the record, I could say the same thing about you."

"Really?" He seemed genuinely curious.

Y/N looked up at him and smiled, tracing patterns on his chest with her fingertips. "Really. I wasn't kidding, Spence, I think about you... probably more often than I should. You're distracting."

"I'm distracting?" he mused. "You're... you. Seriously, it's a surprise I haven't completely made a fool of myself around you since we met. Especially after we all found out about your other job."

"Right... That doesn't... weird you out, does it?"

"That you used to be a stripper?"

She nodded, truthfully a little worried. She wasn't sure why, but it had always been a problem in her previous relationships, and she'd gotten used to that.

"No, of course that doesn't weird me out. I mean, I was definitely more intimidated around you, and I figured you were completely out of my league... Truthfully, I think you still might be."

"Oh, don't sell yourself short, Doctor. You're perfect, and really, if anyone was out of anyone's league here, it would be me. I'd be lucky to have you in any capacity, you know that, right?"

He blushed, bringing his forehead to rest against hers again. "Well... In any case, I really do like you, and... If it's not too weird, maybe you'd want to go out sometime?"

Warmth bloomed in her chest as she reached out and grabbed his hand, lacing their fingers together. "Of course. I would love to."

***

"Make it stop," Y/N whined, covering her ears with the pillow.

Spencer stirred beside her, barely awake himself. The knocking at the door wasn't stopping, and in a huff of annoyance, Y/N decided she'd had enough.

"We're getting up!"

She only realized what she did after the door opened and Elle walked in, a shit-eating grin on her face. "Oh my God, you were in here last night! I came by your room and tried calling..."

Y/N and Spencer both froze, completely awake and now well aware of the fact that someone else knew about their... sleeping arrangement.

"Uh, yeah... Yeah, I was here. Sorry if I worried you," Y/N stammered, trying to keep her cool. "I-I promised Irene I'd stop by this morning for breakfast before we left, so I should probably do that. Do, um... Do you mind?"

Elle laughed, giving the two of her friends a once-over before nodding. "Sure thing, Little Star. Oh, and uh... Good for you, Reid, proud of you."

"Elle," Y/N groaned, clutching the covers tighter around her bare torso.

"Right. Don't be too late."

After she left, Y/N leaned over to Spencer and rubbed his arm. "I'm sorry. I probably should have—"

He stopped her by pressing his lips to hers in a soft kiss. When he pulled away, his hand brushed the hair from her face and he smiled. "It's fine. I don't care who knows. I mean, as long as you don't, Petite Etoile..."

He said it with a grin reminiscent of the one Elle had just adorned, and it made Y/N laugh. She kissed him again and ruffled his hair. "I'm gonna get you for that."

"What? It suits you."

"You are not calling me by my stripper name. It's bad enough Elle and Morgan are probably gonna call me that for the rest of my life, I don't need it from you, too." She smiled as she said it, hoping that he knew she was only joking.

Either way, Spencer looked at her adoringly and took her hand in his. "Well, then... how about I just call you mine?"

"I like the sound of that."

[translations-by-aiimee]

The Husky and His White Cat Shizun - Chapter 28

Original Title:  二哈和他的白猫师尊

Genres: Drama, Romance, Tragedy, Xianxia, Yaoi

This translation is based on multiple MTLs and my own limited knowledge of Chinese characters. If I have made any egregious mistakes, please let me know.

Chapter Index

Chapter 28 - This Venerable One is A Little Confused

Elder Yuheng broke the rules and was punished. He might as well have sprouted wings. There was no need to wait until the next morning; Almost all the disciples of the sect had heard about it that same night.

Two hundred strikes; if he were replaced by any other ordinary person, they would probably be beaten to death. Even a cultivator isn't indestructible.

Xue Meng jumped up after learning about it: "What?! Master went to the Court of Discipline?"

"Young Master, go and talk to the Lord. He's already injured. How could he stand two hundred strikes?"

Xue Meng was going crazy: "My father? I can't. My father is still at the Snow Palace and hasn't returned yet. A carrier pigeon wouldn't even get there for another day. Why didn't you guys stop Shizun?"

Mo Ran and Shi Mei glanced at each other.

Stop Chu Wanning?

Who in this world could stop him?

"That's out of the question. I'm going to find him right now." Xue Meng roared and ran towards the Court of Discipline. Before he entered the courtyard, he saw a group of Elder Jielu's disciples blocking the entrance of the main hall, whispering about something.

"What are you standing there for? Move! Get out of my way!"

"Young Master!"

"Ah, the young master is here."

"Make way, the young master is here."

The disciples quickly separated and gave way to Xue Meng. The gate of the Qingtian Temple was open, and Chu Wanning was kneeling silently, his posture straight, his eyes closed. Elder Jielu, with an iron rod in hand, was reciting the laws of Life-Death Peak. Every time he finished reciting one, the iron rod slammed against Chu Wanning's back.

"The ninety-first law of this sect: do not indiscriminately hurt the innocent, and do not use cultivation against a mortal. Under this rod, do you have any objections?"

"None."

"The ninety-second law of this sect; do not act arbitrarily, do not act selfishly. Under this rod, do you have any objections?"

"None."

Elder Jielu didn't dare hold back and had to execute the punishment as he would with any other disciple. After more than ninety sticks came down, Chu Wanning's white robes were stained with blood.

Xue Meng respected Chu Wanning the most. When he saw this, his eyes went bloodshot, and he shouted: "Shizun!"

Chu Wanning ignored him. His eyes were still closed and he frowned slightly.

Elder Jielu glanced at the door and muttered: "Elder Yuheng, the young master is here."

"I'm not deaf, I heard him." Blood dripped out of the corners of Chu Wanning's mouth, but he didn't raise his eyes. "He's a noisy child, don't worry about it."

Elder Jielu sighed. ". . .Yuheng, why are you doing this?"

"Who is the one that is always punishing my disciples for being disobedient?" Chu Wanning said indifferently. "If I'm not punished today according to the law, how will I be able to face my disciples in the future?"

". . ."

"Carry on."

"Hah. . ." Elder Jielu looked at his pale, slender neck protruding from the edge of the wide collar that hung gently like thin smoke and asked: "Then can I at least make them lighter?"

". . . This is nothing more than deception." Chu Wanning said. "Don't worry. It's only two hundred strikes, I can bear it."

"Elder Yuheng. . ."

"Jielu, if you don't have anything more to say, carry on."

The iron rod finally fell again.

Xue Meng's voice was frantic: "Elder Jielu! Are you not going to fucking stop? Do you know the situation you've put me in? That's my shizun you're beating!!! My shizun!!!"

Elder Jielu had no choice but to bite his tongue and pretend he didn't hear him.

Xue Meng was about to explode: "Can't you hear me, old man? I'm ordering you to stop! You - If you dare hit him again, I'll, I'll, I'll—"

He thought for a while and couldn’t come up with anything to say. After all, he was only a fifteen-year-old boy. Regardless of the fact that he was "the proud boy of heaven," his strength and qualifications are far less than those of the elders. He could only blush and throw out an outrageous claim --

"I'll tell my father!!!"

Elder Jielu: ". . ."

Chu Wanning let out an almost inaudible sigh.

Ninety-seven strikes. Ninety-eight strikes. Ninety-nine strikes. One hundred sticks. . .

His clothes were torn and blood was glaringly seeping out.

Xue Meng couldn't hold back anymore. His eyes were red with anxiety, and he was about to recklessly rush in, but Chu Wanning suddenly opened his eyes. He waved his hand and a barrier instantly lowered, blocking the entrance. Xue Meng bounced back a few steps, almost falling to the ground.

Chu Wanning coughed up blood. He shifted his glare, narrowing his fierce phoenix eyes.

"Disgraceful! Leave!"

"Shizun!"

Chu Wanning sternly said: "Since when can the Young Master of Life-Death Peak order an Elder to bend the law for his own personal gain? Leave now!"

Xue Meng stared at him. His eyes widened and it looked like little beads of water appeared in them.

Next to him, Mo Ran stroked his chin, and the corner of his mouth was still playfully curled upwards: "Oh, that's not good. Little phoenix is going to cry."

Hearing these words, Xue Meng harshly turned his head and fiercely glared at Mo Ran. His watery eyes were red, but he kept any tears from rolling down.

He had no more objections and no more talk back.

He climbed up from the ground with a single movement. He lowered his head, grit his teeth and wiped the dust off his body. Then he knelt down facing the Qingtian Temple: "Shizun, I know my mistake."

Chu Wanning was still being tortured by an iron rod. His straight posture never wavered, but his face was pale, and his forehead was coated with a fine layer of cold sweat.

Xue Meng stubbornly said: "But I'm not leaving. I'll accompany Shizun."

He said while kneeling.

Mo Ran rolled his eyes towards the sky. Xue Meng, courtesy name Xue Ziming, the proud son of heaven, was only ever humble in front of Chu Wanning. In front of others, he was a phoenix, and in front of their shizun, he became a quail. If he wasn't positive that Xue Meng didn't like men, Mo Ran would start to suspect that this guy was probably in love with Chu Wanning, so much so that he would throw himself in front of death itself for him. If Shizun slapped his left cheek, then this little bitchy quail would humbly slap his right cheek.

Real convincing.

Like an obedient little puppy.

Although he despised him in his heart, he couldn't understand why he was feeling somewhat upset. Mo Ran looked at Xue Meng. The more he looked at him, the more uncomfortable he got and he felt that he could not let him show his loyalty alone.

Chu Wanning already didn't like him. If Xue Meng made such a fuss, does that mean Chu Wanning wouldn't be as harsh with him in the future?

So he simply went over and knelt beside Xue Meng.

"I'll also accompany Shizun."

Of course, Shi Mei also knelt down, and the three disciples all knelt and waited outside. When disciples under the other elders heard the circulating rumours, they all hurried to the Court of Discipline to watch the excitement.

"Oh my god, why is it Elder Yuheng. . ."

"I heard he went into a rage and beat a civilian."

"Ah! He's that cruel?"

"Shhh, keep your voice down. If Elder Yuheng hears you, he won't hesitate to whip you!"

Others: "Why is the young master kneeling?"

"Young Master Mo is also kneeling. . ."

Mo Ran was handsome and he had a way with words. He didn't know how many female cultivators he'd earned goodwill with over the years, but right now, there were several people who couldn't help but feel pity for him and whisper: "I feel so sorry for Young Master Mo. What should I do? Should we intervene?"

"We shouldn't concern ourselves with their shizun - disciple issues. Do it if you dare, I'm not that brave. Do you remember the senior sister who was whipped hundreds of times by Elder Yuheng..."

". . ."

The two hundred strikes were completed.

The barrier was finally removed.

Xue Meng quickly got up from the ground. He ran into Qingtian Temple and approached the scene. Seeing Chu Wanning's appearance, he cried out. He turned his head and grabbed Elder Jielu's collar. "You're dead, old man! Couldn't you have hit him a little lighter!!!"

"Xue Ziming." Chu Wanning closed his eyes, his blood-stained lips moving, and his hoarse voice carried a hidden deterrent.

". . ."

Xue Meng's knuckles creaked. He violently pushed Elder Jielu away, letting him go. This was when Mo Ran came in. He was still smiling, thinking that Elder Jielu must have taken into account Chu Wanning's status and wouldn't deal heavy blows. But looking down at Chu Wanning's injury, the smile on his face suddenly fell.

Didn't Chu Wanning tell Elder Jielu that he had a shoulder injury?!

The two hundred strikes had all more or less slashed across the older wound on his shoulder.

New wounds overlapped old wounds.

Chu Wanning, you. . .

Are you insane?!

His pupils shrank sharply, and a strong resentment surged into his heart.

Mo Ran didn't know what he was resenting, or what he was so annoyed about. He only knew that he felt a blazing fire in his gut, torching through all his organs. He was used to torturing Chu Wanning to death himself, crushing his self-esteem and tarnishing his purity. Mo Ran couldn't stand seeing injuries on Chu Wanning that were made by someone else!

He could move on from his past memories because Mo Ran subconsciously felt that this person was his. This person, whether dead or alive, hated or hated, was all.

He originally didn't care about Chu Wanning being punished because he thought that, since Chu Wanning was an elder, the two hundred strikes would hardly be considered a severe punishment.

At the very least, they would avoid the fresh wound on his shoulder.

But Chu Wanning didn't say anything! He didn't even mention it! What was this lunatic so stubborn? Why did he put up with this? What point did he so stupidly and stubbornly need to prove?!?

His mind was in turmoil. Mo Ran raised his hand to help him, but Xue Meng was already one step ahead of him. He took Chu Wanning in his arms and helped him up.

". . ." Mo Ran's hand hung in the air, and after a while, he slowly lowered it again.

He watched Xue Meng help Chu Wanning walk away, not knowing the feeling that was stirring in his heart.

He wanted to catch up with them, but he wasn't willing to move.

What happened in his past life was all in the past.

Nowadays, Chu Wanning was just his shizun.

Any chaotic, hateful, or intimate entanglement hadn't happened between them yet.

He shouldn't have such thoughts. Whether Chu Wanning was beaten by someone, supported by someone, loved someone, or was even killed by someone, it had nothing to do with him.

Shi Mei came to him: "Come on, let's join the young master and go take a look."

"I'm not going. It's enough having Xue Meng there. I wouldn't help much. Any more people would just create chaos." Mo Ran's face remained unchanged, but his heart was a bit confused.

He really didn't understand what he was feeling right now. What was this feeling called?

Was it hatred?

[kieraelieson]

No Rest for the Deathworlders

Logan had always loved the stars.

Still did, though his love had been dampened by the way in which he was currently seeing them.

He watched out the window, or rather, screen, but it was made to show the outside of the ship, and thinking of it as a window was oddly comforting. A bit of something close to home.

A lump grew in his throat at the thought of home, pressing against the collar. He forced himself back to a neutral, tugging the collar away from the front of his throat as far as it would go. A brief flicker of anger replaced the nostalgia. Anger at the collar, at his own inability to remove it, at the monsters that had forced it onto him, at his own complacency now that it was on.

He didn’t have it as bad as some other humans did, he was well aware. All the collar did was teleport him to the location of the person holding the remote. Granted, it was unpleasant and incredibly disorienting, but nothing like the near-torture he’d heard was the more common method of keeping humans captive.

The captain of the ship was smart in choosing Logan, as far as the welfare of the ship went.

“You’re invested in your own survival,” He’d said through the translators. “If the ship goes down, you’ll go with it. If you sabotage the ship and try to escape on a pod, I can get you back to me immediately, and you’ll meet the same fate as you intended for us. It’s in your best interests to cooperate and to bond with the crew.”

Well, Logan could agree that it was in his best interests to cooperate. But no one could make him get attached to anyone. And no one could stop him from making little problems.

Like ignoring the insistent, “Human, where are you? Human!” that was coming from his communicator.

The window dissolved in front of him, and Logan felt abruptly as if he were on the world’s worst rollercoaster for several seconds. It took him a minute to register the angry captain now in front of him. He was yelling something, but not through the communicator, so Logan couldn’t understand what. And he was far too dizzy and almost nauseous to pay attention even if it was understandable.

He shook his head slowly from side to side and up and down once, hoping to clear the vertigo somewhat.

“You must come when called!” The communicator translated. “Or at least answer!”

Logan stubbornly remained silent, the dizziness gradually clearing.

For an alien that looked more like a slime monster than anything with a real face, the captain still managed to look extremely displeased. Not that Logan cared.

“There are ------ trailing our ship,” the captain said, one of his words not translating properly. “We need to go faster or we’ll get boarded.”

Ok, maybe Logan did care.

“Humans are supposed to be good at making ships go faster, fix it.”

Logan frowned. “I’ve been here three days,” he said into the communicator. “I hardly know how anything in the ship works, much less how to improve any of its functions!”

“I’ve studied humans, I know better than that, fix it.” The captain said shortly.

Logan opened his mouth to protest, but the room around him dissolved, the horrible spinning sensation back. His legs gave out and he dropped onto the floor in a different place.

He swallowed hard, his stomach threatening to upend itself.

“And they call you deathworlders,” someone scoffed. “A transporter has you on your knees.”

Beyond his sick feelings, and the anger at being mocked, he caught onto that plural reference. Was there another human on the ship?

In addition, there were apparently multiple remotes to the teleporter around his throat, which ruined his plan of trying to steal or fight the captain for the one.

He slowly sat up, his head still spinning. He hoped that his body would eventually grow accustomed to the teleportation and the dizziness would stop being so awful.

There was a chittering sound beside him that the translator didn’t attempt to process. He turned to see an alien that would likely be very tall if it wasn’t on all fours. It was very thin, with long arms and legs, which ended in smooth nubs, without hands or feet. The front two, which Logan thought of as arms, though the alien probably would have a different name for them, seemed to be perforated along the last six inches. As Logan watched, one of them was extended towards him slowly, and something softer could be seen on the inside. It was able to be extruded through the holes, and was likely the way in which the alien could grasp things.

He backed away from the limb before it could touch him, and the alien also backed away a step, making a low woody sounding whistle, like air blown over a jug. It’s head looked rather moth-like, with antenna that curled and straightened, and large eyes.

The alien seemed sentient, though Logan was confused that the translator wasn’t picking up on its speech.

Until he saw a very familiar collar, only around their waist. They were also captive then. And possibly, though it disappointed his hopes of meeting another human, they were the other deathworlder, also affected poorly by the teleportation.

The strange attempted touch then, could have potentially been intended as comfort or aid.

“You’ve been sitting long enough, get this ship to move faster,” the other alien in the room grumbled.

Logan glared. “How am I even supposed to do that?” He snapped. “I don’t have training or experience, I don’t know what half this stuff is and I can’t read your labels!”

“You can either fix it now, or we can teleport you between here and the captain until you do.” The alien's tone was disgusting and wet, and Logan was glad he could focus on the robot sound of the translator as his stomach lurched again.

He could try.

If nothing else, he might learn some new things and be able to convince them that he really wasn’t able to just do things he’d never tried before.

The room was smaller than he would’ve expected, presuming he was in a kind of engine room. Around the edges of the room were a number of bins, holding substances ranging from powders to liquids.

In the center of the room was a glass tube that went from floor to ceiling, and seemed to be filled with a glowing crystal stalagmite. From the top of the tube dripped some kind of liquid, and at the bottom it flowed out in small pipes, glowing the same as the crystal and possibly converted into fuel.

He could assume that with all of the powders and liquids that there was a chemical reaction causing the substance to obtain the glowing quality and become fuel. But what that was, and how to know what was safe to change about it, he had no idea.

“Well?” The alien, whom he now assumed to be what served as the ship’s engineer, asked.

He was making so many assumptions, and still was barely anywhere. They could all be wrong.

“Explain to me how it works,” Logan said. “Then I’ll try to ‘fix’ it.”

The alien made an unpleasant sound that the translator interpreted as a sigh. “This is a ——-, the liquid is a mixture of ——, ——, ——-, and ——, but it could be made with any of the ——— family instead of the ———, or you could replace the ———- with ——— for better efficiency at different energy levels. We also have several forms of ———-, which ought to make more potent fuel for higher speeds, but every time we’ve tried the ———- smokes and explodes and there’s residue in the tubing for several rotations which puts us at a standstill.”

Logan grimaced. He had a very small idea of what was being said based on gestures, but he’d much prefer to have names and details. It seemed this was a very large and dangerous version of chemistry experiments, with no textbook, and his only advice coming from someone who hadn’t studied.

Well, there was the other ‘deathworlder’ in the room. He could only hope they knew something about any of this. Though the difficulty in communication might make that knowledge impossible to access.

He turned towards them anyway. “Can you understand me at all?”

They made another low whistling sound, followed by chittering. One arm waved, with… could he call them fingers? gesturing towards Logan.

He hoped desperately that he could consider that to be a yes.

“What would you do in—“

The engineer’s communicator interrupted him. “We thought we’d have a few more rotations but they’re closing in, has the human done anything yet?”

“No,” the engineer said. “It’s just staring at everything.”

“Well get it to hurry!”

The other ‘deathworlder’ made a long series of noises, pointing at one bin in particular and then at a place where it seemed the not-yet-fuel liquid was.

It was a foolish thing. A very foolish thing. But Logan took a scoop from the bin and dumped the powder into the liquid.

It bubbled and fizzed on contact, sending up thick clouds of a dark blue smoke.

An alarm blared.

The ship lurched, knocking them all to the ground.

And then the new ingredient actually hit the crystal, and there was a loud, high pitched ringing.

Logan covered his ears and shut his eyes, feeling like a weight was pressing him to the floor.

Everything was spinning, and loud, and then it was loud in a very different, but no less painful way.

“Protect me!” The captain shrieked.

There was a pained, screeching scream.

Logan was shoved, but he was barely aware of which direction, let alone what he was supposed to do about any of it.

Something grabbed onto his shoulders, and he flailed, hitting and kicking indiscriminately. Something burned on his side, and he kicked into something much more solid, sending a throbbing pain up his leg.

Everything was noise and pain and lights and movement and he didn’t understand any of it!

Logan struck out blindly at anything that came near him.

He thought he’d backed into a wall, but something must’ve been behind him, and it hit him hard over the head. He dropped to the floor, tears swimming in his eyes and blurring everything even further.

Everything dissolved around him and he was falling, spinning, dropping, tossed.

He was grateful more than anything when unconsciousness took him.

•^*^••

He woke slowly, feeling hazy and heavy. It was quiet, and not too bright, nothing was touching him. So he didn’t bother to open his eyes, just laying still.

He wasn’t dead at least.

Probably the pirates had attacked. Definitely he’d ruined the ship he’d been on.

The question was, was being with pirates any better than living on a ruined ship with aliens that considered him to be some kind of hyper-intelligent slave?

Or perhaps the question was, where was he now?

He forced his eyes open.

He was in a relatively large, empty room. The floor and walls seemed bare, though patched, not all of a single material.

He pushed himself up. There was a loud skittering noise away from him, and he yelped, flinging himself away clumsily.

He turned, and saw the other deathworlder, front legs shaking and making a rattling noise. He wasn’t sure if it was a fear response, a method of communication, or even some kind of threat display.

“It’s alright,” he said quietly, backing up a little farther.

The other alien didn’t try to come close again, so he figured it was mostly likely not interested in threatening him. There wasn’t an echo of his words in an alien language though, and he patted his shoulder to discover that the translator had been taken. His hand went to his throat, disappointed to find that they’d left the collar.

It was still there on the other alien also. They were both still prisoners then, wherever they were.

Looking around, it seemed that they were in an empty cargo space, rather than a proper holding cell, so there was a slightly greater possibility of escape.

There was that low whistling sound again. Logan was certain it was meant as a form of communication.

He tried whistling back, as low as he was capable of.

The alien chittered and shook its legs again, but Logan couldn’t tell even if it was a positive or negative reaction.

“I… don’t know how to talk with you,” he said, keeping his tone low and calm. He sat in a comfortable, loose position, hoping to get across the calm in his tone and posture. “But I’d like to try. I’m not sure what anything you’re doing means, and it’s possible you’re in the same situation. I’m hoping that you have more knowledge of humans than I do of your kind, and that you’ll be able to make better inferences than I’m currently capable of.”

The alien cocked its head to the side, watching him as he spoke. It took a tentative step forward on its spindly legs, and then propped itself on three, holding the fourth out to him.

Logan eyed the appendage. The softer inside substance was filling the holes, making it appear to have small bumps, rather than holes. He held out a hand to it, but didn’t try to touch.

The alien bumped the end of its leg into Logan’s palm.

That seemed… good? Perhaps this was a greeting similar to a handshake?

Logan very gently grasped the end of the appendage, the softer inside substance feeling cool to the touch, and almost like a stiff putty, whereas the harder outer shell felt very smooth and rigid, similar to metal, but light.

The alien retracted their arm, and then looked between their arm and his hand. The inner substance reformed, pressing out from several holes into a clear attempt at fingers. It seemed to be fully controlled by the alien, and moveable, albeit much more slowly than Logan could move his own fingers.

“That’s very impressive,” Logan said.

The alien chittered back at him.

Perhaps they could get somewhere through a kind of charades.

•^*^••

“I think that’s all we can carry,” Roman said, looking over the wreckage.

“We can hold more, we aren’t full yet,” Remus protested, still sad that some of the ship’s inhabitants had taken the escape pods. Aside from the power crystal, which was far too unstable to take, they were the best value on the little ship.

“The whole 3rd cargo bay is empty for the two deathworlders, we’re full.” Roman insisted.

“Oh. Forgot about them. Well, if we can hold ‘em, they might be enough to make it worth it.”

“If we can refill,” Roman grumbled. “I was expecting usable power from this ship.”

It had really been a not-very-great raid. They’d lost Aide, and Bill, and Rahgezis, and hadn’t even gotten much of anything good out of it.

And the deathworlders were far too grumpy to join the crew. If they’d had enough room they would’ve separated them, but he just took away the translators and hoped they weren’t already pack-bonded, and wouldn’t become so. Two single deathworlders were bad enough, two together? Their ship would be a wreck from the inside out.

They needed to give them a rotation or two to calm down, try and have a talk, and then drop them off at the nearest Embassy and get away before bad things happened.

Maybe the Embassy would even pay them for handing over deathworlders. Or maybe they’d arrest them for being pirates.

But without Rahgezis, Remus didn’t want to attempt anything on the black market with such a high demand as deathworlders.

And the teleportation bands should make it a little easier on them. They were super old, and no one in their right mind would use them, except as a practical joke, or a way of keeping enemies too off balance to attack. The ones on the two of them had been fused closed, rather than the usual buckle, so he felt more safe trying to hold the deathworlders than he would otherwise.

They’d only found one remote, but Inshes was already working on making a second.

“I’m going to see if the Scraascik is on any registries,” Roman said. “And I’ll check for the Human, but that’s less likely.”

Remus nodded. “I’ll handle getting us moving again. If they’re awake, maybe you could see about dropping some food into the cargo bay.”

“Yeah, I’ll try.” Roman sighed.

Remus set a claw on Roman’s back. Roman grumbled, leaning into Remus’s side, and then went off to do his research.

It’d been a hard day for both of them.

•^*^••

They’d managed to exchange names… sort of. The alien’s name was two notes, whistled lower than Logan was capable of, and likewise there was no way of the alien being able to pronounce the word Logan.

But the alien made a deep, almost resonant sound, that was as close as it seemed they could get to anything involving vocal cords. And that was their version of Logan.

Logan considered the two note sound, and came up with a slightly similar-sounding name. Virgil.

Neither of their names for each other were really very similar to their actual names, but they were able to understand each other, and that was what mattered.

As it turned out, Virgil was stronger than he was at pushing things, or hitting, but they couldn’t pull with any strength.

Logan was focusing his attention on the door, and had been so far unsuccessful in prying it open. It was solidly locked, and the lock seemed to only be on the other side of the door. Which likely meant that this room was detachable from the rest of the ship, in case of emergency or danger.

“Virgil.” Logan said, and Virgil turned to look at him from the patch on the wall they’d been inspecting.

Logan hit the door with his palm, his arm straight, in an imitation of the way he’d seen Virgil hit some of the patches, trying to break them. “Hit here.” He pointed at Virgil, and then at a spot where he suspected the lock was.

Virgil made a chittering sound and shambled over.

Logan again mimicked the strike, and then pointed at Virgil.

Virgil got into position. They were able to balance on three legs and rock their whole body weight forward to strike that small point their arm hit with all their strength and weight together.

They tried three times, but the door held firm.

Logan was impressed that they did not seem hurt by the attempt. Their exoskeleton must be very strong indeed. Which was possibly a part of why they were considered a deathworlder.

Logan wondered what their home planet was like.

The door suddenly opened, an alien clearly holding up one of the remotes to the teleporters.

Virgil backed away, turning and running to the other end of the room.

The alien spoke into a small microphone, which translated. “I brought food. Don’t come near me.”

The alien’s body looked almost bear-like, but with longer legs, clearly bipedal. They were only about half the size of a bear though. The fur also was shorter and sparser, and a very reddish kind of brown. The hands looked more useful than a bear’s paws as well. The head though was very unlike a bear’s. Logan didn’t know what to compare it to.

The alien was wearing clothes, which Logan had learned was entirely optional to most aliens, in bright reds and goldish yellows.

Perhaps this meant that this particular alien was more… Logan hesitated to say civilized. He scarcely knew anything about aliens, and could hardly make such judgements about them. Still, he believed he had a bit more chance reasoning with this one.

“Let us out of here,” he said, grateful that the translator picked it up and interpreted it.

“No.”

“We will leave you alone, we will not harm the ship. Let us go,” Logan said calmly but firmly.

The alien again said no, pushing in a tray of what could be food into the room with their foot, already starting to close the door.

“Wait!” Logan said, stepping forward.

The alien jumped, and pushed the button on the remote.

It didn’t seem to affect Logan, but instead Virgil was teleported close to the door. Virgil stumbled, falling against the wall and letting out what could only be described as a scream.

The alien who had delivered food looked even more scared now, and quickly shut the door. Logan pushed through his shock and alarm to try to open the door before it could be locked, but he was too late.

Virgil slumped to the ground, scream fading to a whistling wheeze.

As bad as the teleportation felt to him, Logan was scared that Virgil was being injured by it. Perhaps on the inside, where they were softer. Or perhaps it put too much strain on their rigid exoskeleton.

Was there anything he could do? He didn’t have any idea about what Virgil could need for medical care, and he didn’t want an attempt at comfort to be construed as an attack, especially while Virgil was vulnerable.

He knelt close to Virgil, a bit farther than an arm's length.

“Virgil?”

Virgil’s eyes opened, and from this close Logan could see the differentiation between pupil and iris. Virgil’s eyes were moving back and forth, like Logan had seen before in children who’d been spun in circles. He was likely still extremely disoriented then.

Virgil lifted one arm and waved it around slowly. It knocked into Logan’s shoulder lightly, and Virgil kept tapping it against his shoulders and head. Logan allowed it without complaint, guessing that it was grounding to Virgil, being able to verify that Logan was in one place and not moving, not spinning.

Virgil gradually steadied, taking their arm back.

Logan wished he had a way to ask ‘are you ok?’, but he didn’t. The best he had was, “Virgil?”

The whistle-clack he got in return seemed more positive than negative, though he had no way of accurately judging alien tones.

“Logan.”

Logan nodded, as it seemed the correct response.

Virgil pointed towards the nearly-forgotten tray, and Logan went to get it. Virgil struggled to their feet, looking something like a very large baby deer first trying to stand. If Logan had to guess, Virgil’s kind didn’t frequently sit or lie down.

The tray had a number of small round roll-like things that Logan was now accustomed to seeing. They were similar to banana bread in texture, but the taste was salty and rather bitter. When he’d asked, he’d been told that they were the standard in rations as they kept for a long time, and held an array of nutrients that was sufficient for the basic needs of a majority of species.

He suspected that he would require some greens or fruit if he continued eating these primarily, but he hadn’t seen any anywhere, only these.

Virgil stood over him and leaned down as much as they seemed easily capable of, which still left their head several feet above the ground. Logan was just wondering if they would need assistance to eat when a very long tongue, or perhaps proboscis, unrolled from their mouth and curled around one of the rolls, pulling it up into their mouth.

“What do you eat natively?” Logan wondered aloud. “And do you need water?”

There was a pitcher of water and two small cups. Logan poured one cup full and held it out to Virgil.

Virgil seemed to still be chewing, however, and incapable of drinking while doing so. Or perhaps they didn’t require water. Though, now that Logan was watching, he didn’t believe they were chewing at all. Certainly there was no jaw movement. They could be massaging the food with their tongue, and have particularly effective saliva perhaps.

Logan started eating a roll, setting Virgil’s cup down and filling the other for himself.

A minute later Virgil’s tongue unrolled again and drained the cup, seemingly effective as a massive straw.

“You really are fascinating,” Logan said softly. “Were we not in such a situation I would love to learn more about you.”

Virgil responded with a series of clicks and whistles.

“As it is though, we probably ought to attempt an escape. They haven’t tried to get anything from us, which makes me think they intend on trafficking us further. Most likely they don’t have the power to force us into work like the last ship did, so I think, despite the danger, that this will be our best chance. Of course, the danger is greater for you, the teleportation seems to hurt you much more than it does me.” Logan thought for a while. “I think our best bet would be to try forcing our way out the door the next time it opens. Perhaps one of us could knock the remote away. It is enlightening to know that the remote only works on one of us at a time.”

Logan sighed. “Of course we don’t know when or if they’ll enter again. It’s possible we’ll be held here until we reach wherever we’re going.”

Virgil made a low, soft whistle.

Logan laid on his back. “I can’t even properly ask you for your partnership. It’s infuriating to not be able to succeed at anything I attempt. There’s such a wealth of knowledge that is necessary, and I have no idea of any of it. Nor a way of learning, save through painful experience. I can’t become complacent, I have to effect change, but I never know when my efforts will be simply overturned.”

Virgil nudged his arm with their own.

Logan turned to look at them. Virgil chittered at him, bobbing up and down on their legs.

“What is it?”

“Logan.” Virgil said, still bobbing up and down.

Logan sat up. “I don’t understand.”

Virgil tapped his legs with their arm. “Logan.”

Logan stood up. “Is this what you want? Oh. If you don’t lay down to sleep, you must’ve been concerned when I did. I’ll have to sleep sometime though, and surely you’ve been exposed to aliens that lay down to sleep.”

But rather than relaxing, as Logan would assume Virgil would do if they were concerned, Virgil stepped closer, almost over Logan. Their antenna tilted towards him.

“Oh I see, this would be how you would confirm that I’m healthy, by feeling with your antenna, yes?” Logan remained still, unsurprised when there was a soft touch on his head.

But he was not at all expecting the sudden mental image of himself tackling the alien who’d delivered the food. It was so vivid it was as if he was already doing it, seeing the door open, tackling the alien, smashing the remote, and running forward to climb onto Virgil’s back as Virgil ran them both through the hallway.

Logan jerked back, falling on his butt. “What was that?! You have telepathy??”

Virgil made a movement that could be best described as a shrug.

Logan stood up again, reaching his hand out, battling his speed from excitement in an attempt not to scare Virgil. “Can we do it again?”

Virgil brushed his hand with their antenna, and the same scene flashed before his mind’s eye.

“Yes, yes I’ll do that! Can you understand my answer?”

Virgil made a whistle that Logan was almost certain was affirmative.

Logan paced back and forth excitedly, thinking out loud. “So you can communicate with me even if I can’t communicate with you well. And you very much want my partnership in escaping. We have a plan now. And a form of communication. Virgil, this is amazing!”

Virgil made an almost trilling noise.

•^*^••

“No, it hurt the Scraascik,” Roman said, already changing the ship’s course. “We can’t hold them safely, we have to get to the Embassy.”

“We didn’t even ask them to join us yet!” Remus protested.

“Would you join a strange crew after they hurt you?” Roman retorted, sending a message to the engine room to increase speed.

“Well what about the other one?”

“Remus. It won’t work.” Roman glared at him. “I don’t want to take chances with deathworlders.”

Remus sighed. “Fine. But let me try talking to them before we get there.”

Roman’s face went hard. “You have until we arrive,” he finally conceded.

Remus hurried down to the cargo bay.

He burst the door open, and it slammed shut behind him. Both deathworlders jolted, staring at him.

He then realized that he’d entirely forgotten the remote and the duplicate, and also that he was locked in a room with two deathworlders.

Well, there was a reason people joked he was addicted to adrenaline.

“Hello!” He said, waving. “I’m wondering if you’ll join my crew.”

The human moved first, standing up to a height decently taller than Remus was. And the Scraascik was even larger.

Perhaps he really was in serious danger.

“We just want to leave,” the human said, sounding rather threatening.

Probably telling them about the plan to hand them over to the Embassy then wasn’t a good idea until he was sure that he wasn’t in attack distance anymore. “You can, leave with us. Join our crew and you can adventure with us, raid ships, explore planets!”

“We want to leave alone,” the human said firmly.

“We? So… you bonded then? I guess that rumor is true, deathworlders all really do bond super fast.”

The human bared its teeth at him. “I will not be bonding to your crew based on your desires. I will not remain here, I want to leave. We want to leave.”

The Scraascik agreed in some of the most heavily accented Common Remus had ever heard. No wonder the translators hadn’t picked up any of his yelling when they’d boarded the ship. He’d probably need a translator to touch his antenna, but good luck getting a Scraascik to let anything touch their antenna.

“So you won’t even consider it?” Remus asked, not yet daunted.

“You’ve essentially kidnapped us, and both can and have hurt us! Why would I consider it?”

Yikes, the human sounded angry.

“Well we didn’t mean to hurt you, really, it’s not meant to be that bad. And we only kidnapped you from other kidnappers, and also I can’t hurt you cause I forgot the remote.”

The two deathworlders looked at each other, and Remus knew he really had gone and shoved his whole fist in his mouth. The human shifted position to a much more threatening crouch, as if it was going to pounce on him.

Remus held his arms out, claws at the ready. He might not have a hope of winning against deathworlders, but he could certainly make himself a pain of a target.

“I know I’m a pirate, but this was supposed to be just a talk,” Remus said, wondering if he’d be able to hit the communicator in time and if rescue was possible. Violent deathworlders in an enclosed space was not something he wanted his crew walking into, even for a rescue.

“It’s not much of a talk when we don’t have a say,” the human said, looking more and more threatening every second.

Iaoth , he wanted this human on his crew.

“Of course you have a say!” Remus said. “Name it, what position do you want, what pay, days off, I’ll give you whatever room in the ship you want as your quarters.”

“I fundamentally disagree with joining people that would knowingly traffic other people,” the human growled.

And then it leapt forward.

Remus yelped, swiping at the human and hitting the communicator with his other hand. “Roman!”

He was tackled to the ground, and the Scraascik pinned one arm while the human sat on his middle and held his other arm down.

“Remus?!” Roman’s voice came through the communicator.

“Let us go,” the human growled. “Once we’re out we’ll let them go.”

There was a tremor to the floor that Remus recognized. Roman must have been overloading the engine, they’d arrived and were docking.

“Is Remus ok?” Roman asked, sounding terrified.

“I’m fine, just a little stuck,” Remus said, trying to not sound scared so Roman wouldn’t get even more worried. “Laying under a deathworlder~ not quite as fun as I always imagined.”

Roman made a sound somewhere between a sob and laugh. “I’m coming to let you out. Don’t hurt him. Please.”

Remus was honestly a bit surprised that he was only pinned. The human was leaking blood from its shoulder and across its chest where Remus’s swipe had connected, but it hadn’t retaliated.

“Hurry,” the human said coldly.

The communicator turned off, and Remus had a strong suspicion Roman was calling the Embassy to have guards outside the ship when the cargo hold was opened.

“You sure you don’t want to join us?” Remus asked. “I know it won’t look like it from your end, but we don’t traffic, we take from ships we attack, but we’d either let them join us or take them to the authorities, we don’t just continue the traffic. And we could use people like you, you could help us take down so many more ships.”

The Scraascik leaned harder on his arm, and Remus grimaced.

“What would the authorities do?” The human asked.

“Uhhhh… well with the Scraascik, probably drop him back on his own planet, or with a Scraascik colony. Your planet though is still restricted, so they’d probably keep you until it’s opened.”

The human’s face contorted into something that did not look good for Remus.

“We’re on our way there, aren’t we?”

Remus wasn’t sure he dared lie, not when he was pinned to the ground with two very angry-seeming deathworlders over him. “Yeah.”

The human hit the communicator. “Listen.”

“I’m listening,” Roman said warily.

“Don’t open the cargo hold,” the human ordered. “You’re a pirate ship. You have smaller ships for scavenging, yes?”

“…yes.”

“Give us one.”

There was a long pause from Roman.

“Put food and fuel and translators in it,” the human said firmly. “We’re taking this one with us until we’re safely inside.”

This was probably wrecking Roman’s plans. There would be authorities involved and now no deathworlders to give them.

“Alright,” Roman said.

•^*^••

The door to the cargo hold was opened. Logan had the bear-alien in a tight hold, and Virgil was above them, looking like they were ready to strike out at anything that got within range.

They managed to walk along the halls until they reached the smaller ship. Logan had no idea how he was going to fly it, but it was the biggest chance by far that he’d had yet.

He shoved the bear alien away and slammed the door shut.

Virgil went immediately to the pilot’s seat, and Logan was amazed to see that there were places in the ceiling that fit their antenna. Soon there was a fast and loud humming, and the tiny ship lurched into motion.

•^*^••

Patton was being sent, since they didn’t really believe that there could be a Human and a Scraascik on the cobbled-together ship that had docked. So it was just him and Janus.

Janus wrapped his long tail around the back of Patton’s neck for balance as Patton walked back and forth, waiting for the ship to open its cargo bay.

It sure was taking a long time. They’d seemed so rushed when they called, but now they just wouldn’t open.

And then there was an engine powering up.

A teeny little scavenging ship took off from the bigger one, flying off. Patton scanned it, alarmed to see that there was indeed a Scraascik and a Human signature on board.

“Hey! Hey wait!”

He pulled out his radio, quickly setting it to the bigger ship’s frequency. “Let me in and go after them! We can’t let a Human go flying around unattended!”

“If they don’t let us in fast, go take the SC Meteor,” Janus said.

Patton wasn’t too surprised when the ship started undocking without answering him.

“We’ll get them!” He yelled, running for the Meteor.

[kyberphilosopher]

Hiss

[Part ii. of Bite] Jason’s been resurrected, only to find he’s been replaced as Robin. Luckily, an old enemy of the Batman has the attributes to help. Word Count: 6465

Warning[s]: guns, crime, language, crude humor, Mitski, non vegetarian reader, age gap, glorified taskmaster ally. Following part i the readers official gender is not disclosed. 

“Uh, Jason? We might wanna let god fix it, because if we fix it, we’re going to jail.”

☈ - ✮ ✭ ✮

Six months. That’s how long it took for Jason to die. Six. Whole. Months. In an abandoned warehouse, in some foreign country that he couldn’t even remember. He’d been fifteen, small for his age but fifteen nonetheless, when that clown had beat him. And what had Batman done? Nothing. He’d let him sit in that warehouse, in that foreign country, with that clown at age fifteen- for six months. And he had done nothing.

Not that it really matters now. It had, at one point, to Jason. He’s in denial that it still does. But to Batman? Oh, it never mattered at all. How long had it taken Bruce to replace his son? A week? A month? No, it had been six months. Barely. And the clown? He was safe and sound, very much alive and loose as he usually was. Batman had put him in Arkham, after a while, but of course it hadn’t lasted for very long. Jason’s death? That was permanent. At least until there was a new and improved and very much replaced Jason running with Batman, six months later. That was permanent too.

So one can imagine the confusion you felt when you opened the door to find a very much alive ex-Robin on your apartment doorstep. 

201 Arkham Street, apartment 317 Gotham City, Gotham County, New Jersey

That’s the address given to him by the Riddler. Putting him in Arkham seemed to be one thing that the Batman had got done during Jason’s little time away. Clearly it had ended up well enough for at least one person. Jason hadn’t even needed to threaten the Riddler out of riddling. In less than ten minutes, Edward Nygma had revealed the Mockingbird’s address, who they like and don’t like, what their suit was made of, and finally their name. Batman had always assumed Riddler and Mockingbird were best friends, birds of a feather with all the times the they’d seemed to make some kind of appearance by the others side. Some friend Riddler was now. 

Jason had snuck into the Batcave recently, and while going through files, decided to take a glimpse into Mockingbird’s just for the sake of curiosity. He wasn’t expecting much. When he was fifteen, it had been near empty. But sure enough, the file had been expanded upon relatively greatly in the past- what? Four years? That sounded right. But one thing that hadn’t changed was your seemingly long standing friendship with Edward Nygma, the Riddler. Still, so much for it. 

Batman had seemingly made a note of allies of theirs, then crossed out multiple names. Poison Ivy, Bane, Deadshot- and yes- the Riddler, stayed. Scarecrow, Black Mask, and Catwoman were all shockingly crossed out. Jason hadn’t expected the last one. Below the allies were the list of crimes. That had changed too. They’d gotten more violent towards the end of the list, straying away from the Mockingbird that the ex-Robin had known. Mockingbird had picked a fight with Dick’s Nightwing enough times for Batman to make a note of too. Before Jason could get to the new pictures of Mockingbird, he quickly closed the file. Didn’t need to see anymore. 

So based on what he had gathered, you should’ve looked different. He’d memorized your face when he was fifteen. Was expecting it to have changed compared to then. But when you open the door and Jason’s face to face with you, Mockingbird, it’s like the first time. Only your eyebrows have gotten slightly darker, and your eyes have rung with dark circles. 

✮ ✭ ✮

The same can’t be said for Jason Todd, however, who you let into your apartment rather quickly. 

You’d done your research on him, too, but only after you’d heard about his death. A death which was confirmed. After locking the door and beginning to turn around, he answers the question before you can ask. 

“Superboy and Lazarus Pits.”

“Ah,” you respond, crossing your arms. The man stands tall in your living room, though it’s not forced. You’ve got no idea what a Lazarus Pit is, but it seems to have changed the Robin you knew before. He was scrawny before. He puffed his chest out before. He had something to prove before. Now his broad shoulders make him look bigger naturally. He could reach up and touch your ceiling with no effort. His face and jaw are masculine and strong, eyes bright green and blue and cyan like you remember. That’s how you know it’s Jason Todd.

“It’s because of the power struggle, isn’t it?” says Harley beside you as you both look over the side of the roof, her flat on her belly and you crouched on the ledge in watch. 

“Hm?” you’d tossed back through your voice changer, not even looking away from the busy street below. 

“Jay killed the Robin,” Harley chirps. “You know- Batman’s little boyfriend? In the shorts and the tights with the flips and the kicks? Oh, that kid went bing, bang, boom. Jay’s been real pumped about it.”

This had made you turn to Harley Quinn. You looked at her over your shoulder, still in position. Though you hadn’t thought about it at the time, it was a good thing she couldn’t see through your mask right about now. 

“The kid?” you say at last. 

“Yeah! Jason Todd! Ya’ know him?”

Harley doesn’t look at you, bubbly as ever in her own world. But you watch her for a moment. Then you turn back around to the direction of the street. “No.”

“Well I’m sayin I bet that’s why there’s so much crime goin’ on now. Old Batty’s got it...”

“I heard,” you tell Jason, before he can go into further detail. He nods once in understanding, in line with a breath, and then looks around the room. Your apartment is small, seemingly in decay, and looks like a shithole. Just like the rest of the building. 

“Mockingbird, I presume,” he offers finally. “Y/N L/N was it?”

You nod once, holding your gaze at the ground in thought before taking a step toward your kitchen. It’s close by to the living room. So close, in fact, that your island counter practically touches the back of your couch. “Robin,” you greet in turn. 

“My name’s Ja-”

“I know what your name is.”

Just then a sprinkle of dust falls from your ceiling, mixing with dirt and shit and pollen. “Nice place,” Jason condescends. 

“I’m sorry,” you put your hands on your counter as you lean in to look at him. “Weren’t you under the ground not too long ago?”

“Weren’t you in jail not too long ago?”

“I never went to jail.”

“But your buddy Ed did didn’t he?”

Your eyebrows crease, and Jason notices you lean forward a fraction of an inch more. He got to you. “How do you know about Edward?”

Jason Todd gives a small smile. His right hand reaches up until it’s poking the side of his head a few times. “Bat knowledge.”

You frown tightly. “Don’t do that. I didn’t like that.”

“You like beating up Dick Grayson?”

You shift. “Yeah. I did.”

“And Catwoman? Huh?”

“Yeah,” you say a little louder. “I did. What wonder boy? You wanna see the scar to prove it?”

“Okay,” Jason huffs. He closes his eyes, his jaw clenching, and then he speaks softer to control himself. “Okay. I’m not Boy Wonder anymore, or wonder boy. Don’t call me that.”

You look him up and down. His eyes, his jaw, his brows. The Robin you knew those years ago. He’d been beaten and blown up. He must’ve cried for help. 

“Okay,” you say, equally as soft. “But just for the record, I haven’t been the Mockingbird for years. Can’t really call me that either.”

“Why not?” Jason Todd questions, turning around so his back faces you while he observes your apartment. You can see his muscles through his shirt. 

Because you were just a kid. Because I liked you. Because you didn’t deserve it. Because Batman didn’t help. Because you were replaced. Because most of my friends laughed it off. Because I couldn’t go after Joker myself. Because I got angry. 

“Just grew out of it,” you shrug instead, turning around. You open your dirty fridge and pull out a bottle of lemonade and two glasses. “What are you doing here, Jason?” you say as you pour the drink, your back now turned to him. 

“I need your help.”

“Whatever with?”

“I’m thinking of getting a little...” Jason’s voice goes low into something like a masculine purr, “...revenge on Batman.”

“You came back from the dead,” you turn around with two glasses of lemonade, “to get revenge on the Batman? That’s your great plan?”

“No,” Jason says simply. He’s since turned around so he’s facing you. “Screwing with the Batman is just a piece of the fun. He’s nothing.”

Jason accepts the glass that you hand to him. You sit down on your couch in front of his figure. That simple motion is enough to bring out some more dust from your walls. “So what’s the revenge?” you take a sip of the sweet, gritty liquid. It coats your teeth strangely in seconds. 

“New Robin. Ever heard of Tim Drake?”

You stop your sip, looking up at the big, broad Jason. You can already tell where this is going. “Uh, Jason? We might wanna let god fix it, because if we fix it, we’re going to jail.”

His brows shoot up. “You hit me in the face with a pipe.”

“I didn’t hit you. You walked into my swing. But you wanna go after the kid, Jason? Really?”

“Yeah.” He crosses his arms so his forearms flex. 

“Tim Drake?”

“Yeah.”

You roll your eyes in thought. On one hand, you hadn’t been Mockingbird for years. You stopped when you were eighteen, and you’re twenty one now. Not that it’s helped you very much. You’re still struggling in a shithole, broke and unhappy and no longer able to afford school. And Tim Drake hasn’t really done anything wrong. But on the other hand, Batman is a dick, and you really stopped liking him after what happened to the former Robin. You’d wanted to go after him and the Joker for it, but you’re not far enough in the Gotham food chain for that. Trading swings with Selina was as close as you got. 

“Alright.” You stand. You’re not even close to Jason’s height. “Lay out the deal. You got a suit?”

✮ ✭ ✮

And that’s how you and Jason Todd ended up on a roof that night. You, at the crisp age of twenty one, and he at what you suppose is his version of nineteen. Still working on wrapping your head around that one. 

You’ve pulled out your Mockingbird suit from under the bed. It was a bit dusty, but not hard to slip into. Everything seems in place. It’s just old. Your voice scrambler is still working okay and all the eyes light up efficiently. Jason’s got a suit too. 

“I don’t,” Jason answers, his face suspicious. His eyes are twinkling as he looks down at you. It’s so hard to believe he’s just a boy- or was, last you saw him. 

“Don’t worry,” you tell him. “I got you.”

You lead Jason to your room, into your closet, and into a space even farther back where an illuminated glass case the size of several yard sticks stands. It must cost more than your whole apartment. Inside of it is a metal suit like a military uniform, similar to Bruce’s Batsuit but with an Arkham emblem over the chest. 

“Call it the Arkham Knight. You like it?”

“Where did you get this?” Jason steps forward, raking his eyes up and down the design. Bruce would hate it. 

“I stole it from the Batcave.”

“The whole display case?” Jason snaps to you. Then his brows shoot up and he takes a step closer. “How do you know where the Batcave is?”

“How did you know where my apartment is? And yes, I took the whole case. It was just sitting there.”

Jason turns back around to the suit. It’s growing on him. He admires it. It’s perfect. The Arkham symbol will put the Batman into a state of despair. “Hard to believe you and Selina aren’t friends anymore.”

“We never were,” you mutter back. It’s really not his business that you ended so many partnerships because of his death.

“You’re sure this is the place?” you question. It sends Jason into a state of euphoria, hearing the distorted villainy of your voice again. It feels like the first time too, just like when he saw your face again. It feels how it did when he was fifteen and infatuated with the Mockingbird. It’s almost dizzying. It’s just strange to hear it knowing that now you’re on the same side. 

“Yeah,” he answers through his helmet. His voice is distorted too. “This is the place.”

You’re overlooking a Gotham street at night, something you’ve both discovered vigilantes, heroes, and villains do a lot of. Smoke fills the air along with police sirens and building lights. You’re positioned in one of the outer districts though, away from most of the commotion. 

“I can’t remember the last time I was here,” you say, half to yourself. 

“I can,” Jason says back. “When I ran with Batman. Last year. I was fifteen.” Jason's voice drops. “Or was I...”

You frown behind your own mask. Of course. Jason died four years ago, and he was fifteen when that happened. He came back- you’re not sure when- older and stronger and behind on the changes of the world. He must not know about social media, or the latest television crazes, or the new roads in Gotham. It makes you sad. 

All Jason sees when he meets your eyes through his visor is several red slanted lines. You’re both unreadable through your helmets. 

“There’s a good restaurant down on this corner,” you both turn back to the street, crouching in wait. “Maybe B-Man likes it.”

“He never eats,” says the ex-Robin. “Never sleeps. Never does anything.”

“You know he broke my buddy Scarecrow’s bones last Halloween?” you scoff. “Literally for not knowing where Black Mask is. Your old boss is weird as hell.”

Jason cocks an eyebrow you can’t see. “Thought you weren’t friends with Scarecrow anymore?”

“Anymore? B-Man keeping tabs on me?”

“He keeps tabs on everyone,” Jason shakes his head. “You’re just a file.”

“Hm,” he hears you say. Contemplate, more like. You speak again after a moment of silence. “Well Scarecrow and me are fine, thank you for asking.”

Jason scoffs. “He your boyfriend or something?”

“My boyfriend’s over in Metropolis.”

Oh. 

“How’s your girl?” Your head snaps to Jason at once, hands twitching around. “Or guy.”

He tosses a look to you that you can’t see, but you can guess at. Somewhere between ‘what the hell’ and ‘why the hell’ and an eye roll with furrowed brows. 

“Come on. Rose Wilson seems your type. Ooh, Artemis?” You suddenly nudge his arm with your elbow. “Batgirl? Is it Dick?”

Another look is thrown your way. This time it feels more angry. “Whatever, Robin,” you offer lightly. 

It dawns on you that perhaps Jason has never had a partner before. That seems more likely, especially after thinking about his situation, and suddenly you feel bad. It’s too late to vocalize an apology now though.

“Fine,” you say at last. “Let’s just stop talking.”

“Let’s do.”

✮ ✭ ✮

It starts raining not long after that. 

The drops bounce off your suits harmlessly. There’s still no sign of this Tim Drake and Batman. 

“Hey,” you break the silence. “Has anyone ever told you you look exactly like a statue?”

“Must be a resurrection thing.”

“Yep.”

The rain falls harsher.

“So,” Jason begins. “I have to ask. How do you do the- the…” he spins his pointer fingers around rapidly.

“What the fuck are you doing? What is that? No- what is that right there?”

“The thing that you do.”

“I’ve never done that in my life, Jason. What is that? Finger jiu jitsu?”

You hear Jason suck in a breath as he turns away. “You think you’re so funny.”

“You asked me for help. And between the two of us- who has died here? Not me. I’m hilarious.”

“Oh,” he scoffs. “So hilarious.”

“You seemed to think so. When…” your voice trails off. You almost wanted to mention that night in the warehouse to him. A memory of him looking up at you, his hands bound behind his back as he stares in wonder flashes in your mind. But it doesn’t linger for long. Movement in the street catches your eye. “Jason.”

Both your heads snap down to the place below. Sure enough, after a few seconds, a figure steps into view of the moonlight. A skinny kid with dark hair and a bright red and yellow costume. He looks younger than Dick or Jason.

“That’s him,” your partner says. He reaches behind his back and pulls out a long rod. It unfolds with a click that you recognize- the click of a gun.

“What?” you furrow your brows. “Woah- what?”

“I’m gonna shoot him,” Jason tells you casually, fiddling around with the weapon. It’s coming into shape more and more as a sniper rifle.

“That is a child,” you whisper hiss. “He’s like ten!”

“I don’t think he’s ten,” Jason puts his eye over the scope. “This is revenge.”

“Please, do not shoot a child for replacing you in your job of tightie whities vigilante.”

Jason huffs through his mask and looks over at you. “What did you think this was, bird?”

“I thought we were just like, gonna kick him in the balls or something! This is exactly what I meant by ‘we are going to jail’! I told you we should’ve let god fix it!”

“He’ll be fine.”

You knock the rifle out of the Arkham Knights hands with a bang. It clambers across the roof top until it’s nearly over the edge, half on half off.

Jason and you go down at once, shoulder to shoulder in a tackle. Thunder booms overhead. Through his visor, Jason sees you raise a white, gauntleted fist back in a punch, aimed right for his face. Luckily, he manages to catch you by the torso and neck and throw you off.

When he pushes himself to his knee and foot in a kneel, he looks up to find an exact replica of himself. Not literally, of course, but looking at you is like looking into a mirror. Your hand is placed on the rooftop the same way his is. Your knees are bent at the exact same angle as his own. When Jason cocks his head to the side slowly, yours follows him at the same time. So this is what it means to fight the Mockingbird.

He decides to reach for the gun at the side of his leg. He manages to fire once- and miss- a bang going off that he’ll be lucky Drake doesn’t hear over the storm. You knock the gun out of his hands easily, dodging a punch to the stomach before countering with one of your own to his face. It hits the exact same way Jason’s do. He sees your knuckles coming closer to him and almost thinks they’re his own.

Next idea is toss you off the building. Key word: you. Not him.

Jason grips the back of your head through your hood, reaching around. He carries you with him while he stands, tensing his abs as he feels you hammer your elbow away at them. It’s the knee to his crotch that makes him let go and let out a strangled groan.

But before anything else can happen, you spring forward at him in a pounce. Your palms latch onto his shoulders. His feet disconnect from the surface of the roof and the both of you go backwards until neither one of you are on the building at all, over the side.

Jason gets tangled in the emergency stair well. His metal suit clangs against it as he falls and tumbles down, either causing or saving some head injuries. You hit your back on an old street light before landing in a trash bin.

This is it, you manage to think to yourself. Lying in a garbage bin in Gotham at night. And in the rain. This is rock bottom.

I am going to kill everyone on the block for this, thinks Jason.

✮ ✭ ✮

You do eventually get up and remove yourself from the garbage bin. Jason sits at the bottom of the stairs, watching you. You do not exchange words. He does, however, follow you down the street as you essentially stomp.

“Ma’am,” he offers quietly to a gawking older woman.

You enter a small restaurant. More of a diner, really. The door jingles as it opens, and Jason watches you walk to the side until you find a table by the window. You sit down with a huff, tapping one of your helmets red eyes. He shuffles into the space ahead of you, nearly skirting the table across the floor with the bulk of his own muscle and suit. He can feel your judgy eyes on him as he clambers into the seat like a large, run down father.

“Hi there,” a chirpy waitress bounds. She’s a large, redheaded woman in a bright yellow uniform and a hat with a spring connected to a plastic burger on top. It is ridiculous, funny, and you are sadly not in the mood. “My, aren’t you two some interesting looking people! We don’t get a lot of men of metal around here!”

You both look at her silently, masks on but hatred seeping through boredly.

“What can I get you tonight?”

“A gun,” you drawl tiredly, rubbing your palms over your mask.

“We’re not sellin’ those right now, my dear. Something else?”

“Two cheeseburgers would be fine,” Jason speaks up for you.

“Two burgers,” the waitress repeats with a smile, writing it down in her burger notepad. Her cheeks are rosy as she beams happily. “And should I be expecting Superman?”

“Die,” you snap to her, watching her hurry off to the kitchen. Then you put your head down in your folded arms on the table.

Jason glanced around. It’s empty except for the two of you and some dumpy guy in a trucker hat with wide eyes. “What’re you staring at?” Jason all but barks. Normally, he tries to make himself as unnoticeable as possible in public. Not very confident or secure, it seems. But now he’s tired. He just fell down about a million floors worth of metal stairs. It’s late and he lost two of his guns.

“What?” you raise your head, also looking at the trucker hat man. “You’ve never seen two people in superhero suits before?”

“Beat it,” Jason orders.

The man is quick to stand and speed walk away. Still you egg on, “get out of here, bozo!”

“What a fuckin’ prick,” Jason grumbles as he watches the man trip down the street through his view from the window, the door still ringing to signal it’s been opened.

“Yeah,” you agree tiredly.

Your nimble fingers reach up and back to push your white hood from your head. Then they click against the sides of your face and pull the helmet away, revealing your face. You inhale as if you couldn’t get enough air before. Jason watches you, still as a statue, his visor giving him the luxury of being able to monitor your breathing.

“Now what?” you gripe, rubbing your eyes. It can’t be comfortable with all the armor on your hands, but you don’t seem bothered. You must’ve gotten used to it by now.

The Arkham Knight ahead of you only cocks his head to the side slightly. Silent with his helmet. “I’ll help you punch Tim but that’s as far as I’ll go.”

“Why are you defending this kid?” you hear Jason breathe in return. For a split second, electricity runs through you at the sound of his distorted voice, the way his body looks in his suit of armor and how unreadable he is through the helmet. It shocks you all the the way down to your crotch.

“You know,” you begin, eyes widening and voice quieting with a sudden nervousness. “He’s just a kid. Younger than you were.”

Jason scoffs and turns his head away from you, now looking out the window. Gotham is dark and damp outside. “Bullshit,” he scoffs. Then after a few seconds and continues. “Tim Drake and I are the same age.” His head pulls back slightly, fingers giving a strange, sudden twitch. “Or were. We’re-”

You’ll never know what Tim Drake and Jason Todd were. Jason never finishes his sentence, and only his suit flashes with little codes and details to let you know he’s still alive in there. Besides that, he’s as still, lost in sudden thought. You frown and lean in a bit, tapping your elbow with your fingers while you shift uncomfortably. “You’re nineteen, Jason.”

His head twitches again. Now you know he’s heard you. “I’m two years older than you,” you reason. “You’re nineteen.”

He’s quiet for a moment. “Why did you let me go?”

Your eyebrows scrunch and unscrunch. Another wave of electricity shocks down your body, but this time it’s because his voice sounded more like his own. You could hear it under the layers of metal and distortion. But option one is to respond to his question by pretending you don’t know what he’s talking about. That seems like it’s for the best.

“You were just a kid,” you tell him honestly. He silently presses you on. “And I just- I looked at you and I…” I really liked you, kid. Best night I had in years. Made me smile. God, you had to stop working with so many other Gotham city villains just for making jokes about the kid. “You were fifteen,” you say, looking away. “Just a kid.”

Jason watches you. Again, your head turns so you look out the window. He would’ve expected that to be the end of it, but you continue. “Why didn’t you turn me in?”

Jason’s about to pretend to not know what you’re talking about, because it seems like it’s for the best that way. But then he remembers you can’t see anything through his helmet. “What’re you talking about?” he gruffs.

“You saw my face in that warehouse,” you press. “If you had told Batman, I would’ve been to jail. Maybe Arkham. But that never happened. So why didn’t you tell him?”

I was obsessed with you, Jason’s mind screams. In love with you! It hisses, which makes Jason cringe. “Guess you were a kid too.” That’s right. You were seventeen back then. What is that? Last year of high school? You balanced a criminal career and the required education for a minor at the same time. Where were your parents during this?

Jason bites down on his lip hard. Parents. Should shut up about that, probably.

“I’m uh,” you bite your lip and then lick it. “I’m sorry for pushing you. On the roof.”

He shifts. “It’s nothing.”

You turn back to the window. Your arms uncross from atop the table and go to rest in your lap. This close and this still, Jason can make out all the details in your suit. It’s impressive. Kevlar and rubber and plastic, the Riddler had told him. Not the gloves. That’s metal and plastic. 

“So,” Jason decides. “How do you that?” Your brows crease in confusion. He tries to do the finger motions he’d down before, which makes you cringe. “The mirroring. And the fighting and the…” he goes through the motions again. “It in your helmet?”

Your confusion sinks away. A new expression washes over your face as you lean in. One finger reaches up, poking your temple and you smile softly. “Bat knowledge.”

Just then, the waitress saves the day. “Two cheeseburgers for the scary suit people!” she beams, setting the plates down. For a second, her breasts are pressed into each of your faces. Jason first, who does not move and you can’t see under the helmet. You bite back a snicker but instead seep a childish look. Then you’re next, and you can feel Jason’s silent laugh under his Arkham Knight suit as your eyes go wide. “Enjoy, dears!”

“Boobs,” you shiver. “Just got boobs in my face.” And then Jason watches you carefully pick up the burger in your dangerous gloves, and take a bite.

Indeed, for the first time that night, the man in front of you reaches up and pulls off his own helmet with a click. You watch it be taken into his large, veiny hands and passed to the edge of the table, against the wall of the window. Then your eyes wander up to his face, which makes you chew slower.

A strong face. Sharp jaw, perfectly in line nose. Lips always pulled into a scowl. Bright eyes with tired circles and scars across his skin. There’s a streak of white in his dark hair you hadn’t noticed at all before, though now it’s practically blaring you in the face. Jason Todd is very handsome. 

“What?” he says behind his burger, raising it to his lips but freezing before he can bite into it.

You shrug and focus again on your burger. You hear Jason bite into his own.

“I don’t have any money,” you tell him after a moment, swallowing down a bite.

“Me neither,” Jason answers. He nudges his head towards the window. “There’s an ATM across the street.” You nod in response.

A few bites in you speak again. The minutes have been filled with the noises of chewing and swallowing and yummy meat and cheese. “You ever heard of Mitski?”

Jason swallows his bite, which are bigger than yours. “What?”

“Mitski,” you repeat. “The singer?” Jason shakes his head. “You seem like you’d like her. My boyfriend hates her.”

Jason’s brows twitch.

“Why aren’t you with him?” he questions, taking another bite.

You roll your eyes. “Too expensive. He’s-”

“But he lives there.”

“He just didn’t offer,” you shrug. “I don’t have the money anyway. It’s fine.”

Jason cocks a brow. Your own boyfriend didn’t offer to get you out of this shithole?

You roll your eyes. “We haven’t talked in a long time okay? He’s busy. I’m busy.”

Both of Jason’s brows raise now, almost playfully. “Busy with what?”

You’d be offended if you weren’t busy trying to answer. What were you busy with? After you graduated, money went dry with university. It became less frequent after retiring from the Mockingbird mantle. Most of your jobs were minimum wage and short lived. You’re a bartender now, but not somewhere that’ll keep you going probably. Most days you sit around the apartment or run errands, sometimes hosting Ivy. Last time she’d been over, she’d given you a plant that had quickly died and spoke about Harley quite a bit. And Riddler obviously doesn’t come over anymore. Scarecrow had once but he’s off doing god only knows now. 

“Shut up,” you hiss. “What are you busy with?”

“Controlling crime in Gotham,” Jason takes a bite.

“How’s that working out for you?”

“Well.”

“You know you didn’t have to ask me to do this,” you say. “You could’ve just asked someone else. There’s a lot of people in Gotham okay with child killing.”

“I wanted you,” Jason explains. He’s quick to speak again to keep you from thinking about his words. “You were the first person I thought of.”

You’re nearing the end of your burger. “How did you find me?”

Jason shrugs mid-chew. He’s almost done as well. “Riddler.”

“Gave me away that easy?”

“Yep.”

You chew your last bite. It was a good and hearty burger, the cheese melting perfectly against the patty and your tongue.

“You want anything else?” Jason asks.

You watch the street outside, eyes squinting on the ATM. “Jason,” you mutter. “Jason.”

✮ ✭ ✮

Three men snicker as they load up dark blue duffel bags. They’re slimey and smelly, like an old sewer. Money falls from the machine like a waterfall.

Their success doesn’t last long.

One of them comes in contact with the Mockingbird’s elbow and slams his head into a brick building. The other two are just inexplicably on the ground, incapacitated while the Arkham Knight stands overhead.

“Fuck,” you breathe through your helmet. “I missed this.”

Jason’s just picked up the duffel bag when the sudden sound of sirens blare through the air. It’s close. Too close.

“Well that’s no good,” you mutter. You turn to Jason, taking a sharp step forward. “Give it to me.”

His brows furrow under the mask.

“I’ll pay the waitress,” you say. “You run.”

Jason reaches behind his belt and shifts the weight of the bag into one hand. A gun appears- a small handgun. You duck down as he raises it at you, holding your head down as the BANG! rings through the air.

You stand back to your feet, bracing yourself at the sudden sight. The Arkham Knight charges you, but only to pick you up like you’re nothing and jump through the glass window he previously shot at. The adrenaline makes things hazy, but you can see the blue and red lights now. It doesn’t matter. The two of you fly across what turns out to be a pawn shop, burst through the back door and back room until you hit the cold outside air of Gotham again. Multiple doors slam shut behind you. You’re both out of breath and panting, and it’s raining again. This time in an alleyway.

But the cops won’t follow you out here.

It’s quiet besides the panting from you two. Jason has more endurance, you’re sure, but you can hear his breathing inside his helmet. He lets the duffel bag slip out of his grasp as you double over. “I did miss that,” you offer. “Running from the police.” The Arkham Knight just continues his breathing.

“Thank you,” you tell him.

✮ ✭ ✮

Two days after the incident, you enter your apartment lazily. Your keys are tossed onto the island counter before you wander through your mail. One of your letters is from Ed in Arkham, warning you about “some big guy asking about you”. A bit late for that now. You haven’t heard from Jason since that night.

It isn’t until you go to sit on your couch that you notice a large, nearly bursting open envelope. Your fingers stretch to reach it, examining it. No return address, but written in pen in sloppy letters is the word “Bird”. Luckily, it doesn’t feel like a bomb. It feels more soft but firm.

You open the envelope. Your breathing hitches, breath slowing when you see what’s inside. Then a smirk comes over your face.

Just then, dust falls from your shitty apartment ceiling.

✮ ✭ ✮

A week after the failed Tim Drake incident, a young man decides to pay a visit to your building. He is tall and strong, with raven hair laced with a white streak at the front. He frowns at everything, ducking his head to make himself smaller and less noticeable. He cares not for being perceived by other people. He’s well aware of how he looks.

The man’s knuckles tap against apartment 317. He shifts, looking back and forth. The man is quite attractive in is casual red hoodie and jeans, but he wants to be out of the open as soon as he can. After a moment, there is no response from inside.

He scrunches his brows and knocks again. When he takes a step closer, he can hear something from the inside. Music. A piano and drums and maybe an organ?

Jason twists the door knob with ease and steps ahead and inside. The apartment is completely and totally empty. The music becomes louder and more clear. It’s a female singer he doesn’t recognize.

Only the bones of the kitchen remain. Counters, cabinets, a sink, and an old fridge. There’s mold in the corner of the space. But in the middle of the floor where the couch and living room used to be is a cluster of things. Things meant for Jason Todd. 

The man eyes the pile for a few seconds. Then he sets towards it. The first thing he recognizes is a CD player with the volume turned all the way up. He still doesn’t know the song.

Besides the player is a suit he’s quite familiar with. It’s clunky, but folded as neatly as it can be given that it’s made of metal. On the top is the helmet that gives it away. The Arkham Knight suit. It sits on a dark duffel bag in front of a small white piece of paper with the promise of ink inside. Jason decides to open that first.

You’re coming back… and it’s the end of the world…

Haha! I knew you’d show up!

Jason nearly rolls his eyes at the first sentence.

Thanks for the money. I know it was you. Thanks for the fun night too. Sorry about hitting your balls. They felt really big if that makes you feel better.

It didn’t.

I was thinking of Metropolis, but what do you know, me and the boy toy decided it might be better to hold off on it. I got a bit of dirt on the kid by the way. You’ll find it on the back of this paper. Oh and I hope you like the Mitski soundtrack. I bet Drake’s the kind too. I’m going to keep the Mockingbird suit if you don’t mind. I guess our night of fun kinda reignited an old flame. Don’t even think about coming after me.

Son of a bitch, Jason internally screams.

I have a gift for you though. You get the Arkham Knight. You look good in it. And a little something extra in the bag by the way. 

Love, Mockingbird.

I just need a quiet place… where I can scream, how I love you…

Indeed, inside the duffel bag Jason Todd finds some cash and red fabric with an R emblem over the chest. He doesn’t need to pull the rest out to understand what it is. He decides not to question how you got his old Robin suit or when, but lets himself smile a bit, his chest expanding with his breath. It’s a real smile too. 

You’ve given Jason everything he needs to go after Tim Drake himself.

✮ ✭ ✮

I hope I’ve ruined everyone’s day. You think I would let the reader and Jason be happy together? You absolute baffoon. Maybe I’ll make a part three for gits and shiggles though. I’m not sure about this one. Definitely more based around their interactions than the drama unlike the first one. It was fun though. I hit the paragraph limit. I think I did a good job with the chemistry. I do apologize for giving the reader a real set in stone age though. I don’t like to to that because I think it takes away the point of having a ‘reader’. Also if you’re vegetarian please just eat a cheeseburger it’s so good y’all are weird. Oh and fun fact I just got a Red Hood tattoo on Saturday! Look at me go!

Tagging everyone who asked for a part ii: @yunho-leeknow @fyowyn-writes @martianmilfhunter @beardedfandiplomatprofessor

[urlkssknt]

a deep love confession

warnings!! nsfw!! unprotected sex!!

johnny x fem reader, 3k

johnny stared at you with such intensity, you had never seen that look in his eyes before. he looked mad. he was mad. at you, specifically. of course, you were a grown woman, one who could handle any form of danger, but that knowledge didn't help the anxiety that was weighing down on johnny's chest heavily. "where were you?" johnny tried to speak in the calmest tone he could muster but he was failing to mask his emotions. was it because you didn't inform him that you left for the deal or was it because he felt like you didn't trust him?

you scanned his posture as he stood still in your bedroom, a room that all of your men were forbidden from entering, even dohwan. yet, you always welcomed johnny. sighing, you began to shrug off the jacket you wore and placed it on your bed, not bothering to answer the man in your room. to you, it didn't seem like such a big deal, you were simply doing your job.

"y/n, i just asked you a question."

both of your eyes locked onto each other, a mutual look of intensity, hoping to try and read each other's minds, johnny just wanted to understand you but you were making it so difficult for him. your eyes were blank. you showed no detectable emotions.

"i don't answer to you," was what you said that threw johnny off the edge. whatever patience was left in him now vanished. groaning loudly, johnny ran his hand through his hair and held onto his neck. he couldn't shout at you, he couldn't do anything.

you infuriated him.

johnny decided it was best to leave you alone, maybe forever. the feelings he felt for you heavily trumped what you felt for him, johnny assumed in his mind, that was always constantly things about you. there was no way to tell what you were thinking and it stressed him out. he just wanted to understand you.

"wow," johnny scoffed, placing his hands on his hips as he glared at you, the way you just gazed back at him obliviously pissed him off even more, "i guess i shouldn't have worried about you then, huh?" anger was laced with every word he spoke in a voice that was quiet so no one that happened to be walking past could hear but loud enough for you to listen. the warm light of your room illuminated johnny's features, his beautiful face hardened like a rock, jaw tense. "do you even care that i was worried about you? i get that you don't care about you own life but i care, y/n! me!" you were speechless. feelings were never your strong point, voicing them aloud was even worse. slowly, you began to process johnny's words, however the said man took your silence literally and as a rejection.

feeling fed up, johnny began to walk towards the door, the sound of his leaving footsteps booming in your ear like thunder. it awoke something in you as if a switch had been turned on. johnny's fingers were ready to reach out for the door handle to leave out of your life before he froze in his steps, "i'm sorry."

you had apologised.

the two words were foreign to your tongue but you hoped johnny could hear the sincerity in your shakey voice. it was only a matter of a few more seconds before johnny felt your hands wrap around his waist, your head resting against his broad back. he felt warm to you. any anger that he experienced quickly evaporated with that one act.

"i can't stand to see the sight of you walking away," the image of it was still fresh in your mind, causing you to tighten your grip on him, in fear he would actually leave. your fingers trembled as you clutched johnny's cotton shirt. "the way i feel for you," you began slowly with a wavering voice as you thought out every word, trying to piece everything you wanted to say, "i haven't felt this way about anyone before, and i don't know if i deserve to feel it." your heart was hammering in your chest, you were afraid that johnny could feel it beating, a sheet of paper couldn't pass between your grip on the taller man.

as johnny felt your grip loosen, he instantly held your hands against him again.

"i love you," you whispered quietly in a defeated tone.

johnny turned around so quickly you were afraid he might have experienced whiplash. the hardened features of his face had finally softened, showing you everything you found so dearly beautiful about him. as his dark eyes pierced into yours, johnny raised one of his large hands to cup your face. he didn't miss the way you nestled into it further, the simple act causing his heart to skip a beat. the organ was beating so loudly out of his chest johnny was almost certain you could hear it in the comforting silence, unbeknownst to him, your heart matched his rapid pace.

"i want to be the one by your side, y/n," johnny's other free hand snaked around your waist to draw you closer to him, with your hands still wrapped around him, "please, i can handle everything you throw at me, just... let me be a part of your world." his forehead rested against yours, you could feel his warm breath falling upon your skin, finding peace in it. johnny was real and not a figment of your dreams that were beginning to replace the recurring nightmares that occupy your sleepless nights.

"but you'll get hurt," your body stiffened at the thought of johnny becoming hurt or worse, dead. all because of you.

"then let me," johnny held onto you tighter, embracing you with both arms, his scent unknowingly calming you down, "i know you'll protect me no matter what," he had spoken with a smirk that was so obvious in his voice.

gazing upon your face once more, johnny knew he reached your ice cold heart. that all his efforts didn't go to waste. your neck craned as you looked up at him with endearing eyes, as if he was the most perfect creature to have been created. it began to cause a stir in him. taking advantage of your dazed state, johnny angled his head lower so he could meet your lips. unlike the first kiss you both shared, the taste of tobacco is no longer lingering like a reminder of your habit, just the taste of your lip gloss. it was so sweet. johnny indulged himself in the sweetness, you kissed him back with an equal amount of eagerness. your slender fingers ran up the expanse of johnny's chest, standing on the tips of your feet to match his height but yet you were still shorter than him. the soft kiss quickly became anything but innocent, the urge to have johnny bed you almost had your knees buckling.

somehow, johnny had moved you both to your bed, where you sat in his lap, your thighs on either side of him. warm comforting hands ghosted along your bare legs, the skirt you wore had ridden up, revealing more inches of your body for johnny to touch. "i want you," you breathed as you pulled away from johnny's swollen lips.

johnny groaned at your words. he had imagined this moment ever since you deemed his yours, the thoughts normally continued in a lonesome cold shower and the company of his hand. a blush grazed his cheeks at the embarrassing thoughts. the blood rushed to his dick at the sight of your doe eyes pleading him to consent. "fuck," johnny's voice dropped an octave, "you sure, darling?"

the small nod of your head was the green light. his hands gripped at your hips, guiding you dangerously closer to feel where he needed you most. intently, johnny watched as you gasped at the feeling of his hardening dick through his jeans.

"i'll make you cum on my dick instead of my tongue," the lewd words were whispered softly, hot breath fanning against your ear, only for you to hear. in a matter of seconds, you felt johnny's pulp lips press opened-mouth kisses along the juncture of your neck, his lips upturned into a smirk when you titled your head to allow him to have more access. cherry blossoms trailed from beside your ear down to your collarbone. a gasp emitted from you at the harsh sting of your skin between johnny's teeth.

"you're so beautiful, y/n," you wondered how johnny viewed you, a psychotic bitch who needed to be locked up or someone who was deserving of love. cradling his face between your cold hands, you littered soft kisses all around johnny's handsome face, mentally swearing to yourself to kill anyone who as much places a scratch upon it. johnny stilled at the sudden affection. your wondering hands turn south from johnny's chest, you had the blessing of being able to peel the white t-shirt off from his body, leaving him bare before your eyes. johnny was very confident in his body, the way you drooled over him like a child craving a candy, made him chuckle. the laughter died when you suddenly began to undress yourself, revealing the dark lace undergarments you wore. johnny's mind wondered if you purposely wore such a thing for his eyes only.

returning to his lap, you innocently rolled your hips against johnny's unbelievably hard dick, eliciting a sound from him that made you clench around nothing. "do you want me to cum in my pants?" you blinked at him in confusion as if your heat wasn't sat directly on top of the area where he needed you most. johnny rolled his eyes at your unresponsive reaction. for a mafia boss, you knew nothing about sex. "where do you keep your condoms?" he shifted his weight in order to search through your bedside table for the packaged rubbers.

"i don't have any," you told johnny, watching the way the muscles in his back tense, "you're my first."

he knew this already but it spurred something in him to hear it again. johnny turned his head to you at lightning speed, catching you off guard. a voiceless part of him takes pride in knowing that you never took pleasure in someone else before him, unlike what the rest of the boys believed. if they only knew, johnny thought.

"darling, we can't do this then."

"no!" the sound of your own voice shocks you, never did you think you would be so intoxicated by a man that you'd loose all sense of pride, but johnny sat there, peering down at you, and suddenly the desire for him to fill you increased tenfold. "isn't it better without?" you reasoned, remembering the conversation with yuta about sex being better without protection. the chance of you getting pregnant during your first time seemed low to you, you knew it was a risk but you'd do anything to cease the throbbing you felt.

"yeah but-" johnny's reasoning was cut short by your lips kissing along his chest, so lightly like petals grazing against his skin, "baby." his groan only added to the wetness that was pooling in your panties, all for him.

your hands wrap around his neck to bring johnny's gaze back to your lustful ones, "it'd be nice," your voice sounded as smooth as butter, coaxing him to give into your every desire, "my belly swollen with your baby." you practically purr in his ear. johnny felt his dick twitch in its restrictive confinements, reminding himself of just how unforgivingly hard he is.

"for a virgin," johnny sighs shakily, feigning disappointment, as he began to undo his trousers, pushing his boxers down with them, "you have such a foul mouth," he moved to sit against the headboard of your bed that was fit for a king, "should i stuff it with my dick?" johnny hummed, not missing how your thighs rubbed together slightly.

all the arrogance left your body when you peered at johnny's dick, eyes lingering for a moment too long. you gulped. there was no way for you to tell if his size was regular, due to your inexperience, but he looked big.

mocking laughter fell from johnny, you looked so scared sat in his lap, having no absolute fucking clue what to do, a sight people would pay billions to see, and yet you trusted johnny enough to be the one who sees you like this. his chest swelled with pride. he was your first. somewhere in his heart, johnny knew he'd be your last too.

the tips of your fingers curled between johnny's soft locks as he pulled you back in his strong arms, slotting his warm lips between your own. his mind drifted back to when he ate you out, the taste of you still fresh in his mind. you moaned sinfully against him as his hand groped your breast through your bra, you rutted against him in response to the pleasure. his other hand itched it's way to your back, managing to unclap the lace material, freeing your breasts. leaning down, johnny doesn't miss the opportunity to press a kiss along the valley between your mounds, leaving you a sighing mess above him.

"please, john," you said breathlessly, you were aching for him to touch you in the area you desired most yet he avoided completely.

gripping your hips tightly, johnny guided you to be on top of him, your thighs straddling his waist yet again, after throwing your panties to pile with the rest of the disregarded clothes on the floor. your body trembled slightly out of nervousness. johnny cupped your face with his large palm, "we don't have to do this," he said again. your pleasure was the only thing that mattered to him, he could withstand another cold shower for your sake. however, you urged him to continue.

your hips bucked at the feeling of johnny's hand cupping your sex. "you're dripping," his eyes darkened at the way your wetness glistened under the lighting, before licking his hands clean as if it were the richest frosting, something straight out of a porno. the hum johnny produced caused a chill to run through your body as you completely focused on him.

wasting no more time, johnny aligned himself with your enterance, helping you slowly ease yourself onto him. every cry you emitted from the discomforting stretch was shushed with reassuring mumbles, encouraging words about you 'taking him so well,' and soft kisses peppered around your pain-ridden face. the air in your lungs left your body at the feeling of being completely filled. it took all of johnny's strength to not just thrust into you and take you as he pleased. your walls were so tight and so warm around him, his mind felt like it was going to explode.

as the pain surpassed, you began to rock your hips at a slow irregular pace. each second was agonising for johnny as all he could do was grip at your hip. he was sure a bruise would be left there tomorrow. the other hand kneed the flesh of your ass, coaxing you to move a bit faster. johnny's lips attached themselves to your left breast, swirling his tongue against your nipple softly, the gasp you let out only encouraged the assault. it wasn't until his teeth grazed the sensitive peak that you clenched around him deliciously. johnny cursed out as his hips bucked into yours, hitting a spot you didn't know existed, "do that again, darling."

your breaths were loud in your partner's ears, chest heaving as the air was knocked out of your lungs, your mind was filled to the brim with thoughts of johnny, much like your cunt was. the feeling of your orgasm approaching burned in your lower body.

"j-john," you tried to silence your pathetic whines by pressing your face into johnny's shoulder, his name fell like a mantra from your lips as if it were the only word you knew.

"my pretty, pretty girl," johnny cooed at the fucked out expression adorning your face, a look no one apart from him would ever be able to witness.

the rolling of your hips became sloppier, the longer you chased your high. your legs began to feel numb. johnny's hips suddenly began to thrust up into you, so deeply that tears prick the corners of your eyes.

"'m so close." it was a miracle that your nails didn't break as they created deep crescent-like cuts in johnny's back. you hung onto his shoulders for dear life. if you were hurting him, johnny didn't show it.

he was embarrassed to say it but johnny could feel his high rising in such a short time. the way you called his name when he couldn't be more closer to you made his head spin, slowly loosing control as you clenched around him tighter. grunts and groans fell from him, immediately being swallowed by your parted lips.

sweat adorned your skin, your hair matted against the top of your forehead, johnny couldn't imagine what he looked like himself, his hair was probably a mess from your clutches.

"fuck, john, why is your dick so big?"

"you did not just say that," johnny snorted, wishing he had a camera to capture the blush that crept on your cheeks in embarrassment, had you said the wrong thing?

"do you want me to cum in you, darling?" the lewd question was said with such innocence, no one would have suspected the effect it had on you, "should i?" johnny's grip got stronger, as if it were possible, and began to thrust his hips up into you, repeatedly hitting the spot that had you seeing stars. the quiet moans falling from your lips and the way your walls clenched around his dick were a big giveaway that you were nearly at your high.

you emitted a gasp as the coil in your stomach snaps, the pleasure quickly become too much as johnny continued to pound you from beneath. in a matter of seconds, you could feel the warmth of his load coating your walls.

finally, your lover stilled in you, waiting just one more moment before leaving your warmth. the whine from the loss of johnny's dick almost made him do a double-take, desiring to fill you up again. however he knew better and wanted to let you rest. johnny kissed the crown of your head, his strong arms holding your slumped body up against him. "you okay?"

you managed a small hum, feeling too tried to respond. johnny noticed your drooping eyelids, he gently helped you off his lap and lay down on your bed, despite your protests of missing his warmth. a small chuckle fell from him as he looked at the marks you created along his chest in the bathroom mirror. he went in to get a towel to clean you up with and a shirt for you to sleep in so you wouldn't sleep cold. by the time johnny returned, you had managed to fall asleep in the short time. regardless, the older man continued to clean up the mess between your thighs, he couldn't manage to slip your shirt on you so johnny made sure to tuck the blankets in tightly.

"john, can you sleep with me?" your small voice asked, tired eyes meeting his with a pleading look.

"what did we just do earlier," johnny joked as he put his boxers on, the light in your room casted a glow around him that likened him to an angel.

"stay with me."

your hand had managed to sneak its way out of the blanket and beckoned johnny to lay beside you. the sucker he was for you, anything you desired you would have, who was he to deny you of himself. sighing, johnny clambered into the cold bed, he shivered as he laid beside you. like a moth to a flame, you reached out to touch him, yearning for the warmth of his naked body. johnny was always warm and you were always cold.

"haechan will notice i'm not there," he said softly with his long fingers running through your hair.

"i don't care," you said simply, the members were almost certain that something was happening between you and johnny, they just needed confirmation. "neither should you, your thoughts should only consist of me."