#dying light fear of the renegades au | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

gallickingun · 4 years

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last chance || b.k.

SUMMARY: After All Might’s demise at the hands of an unlikely hero-turned-villain, the world unfurls into chaos. Villains run rampant, heroes are dying in the streets, and you are left with a rowdy group of renegades to seek out the legendary Ground Zero, a vigilante that you’ve only encountered through ghost stories. After narrowing down his sightings to one central location, you are sent out to beseech him for help, if he even truly exists in the first place.

PAIRING: Apocalyptic Pro Hero!Bakugou x Renegade!Reader RATINGS: M/E+ WARNINGS: language, violence, smut, etc. WORD COUNT: 7.3k+

FOREWORD: For all intents and purposes, we’re going to pretend that All Might hasn’t lost his power, even after handing it off to Deku!

LINKS: ao3 | masterlist | mobile | writing tag

Author’s Note: This is my submission for the bnharem nsfw collab, apocalypse edition! I was shocked that I was able to snag Bakugou on my first round of collaboration, and I’m so stoked to read all of the other fics! The masterlist can be found HERE. This might feel a little OOC, but hopefully it makes sense by the end. It is an AU after all.

“The Symbol of Peace is dead.”

You pull the bandana further up around your mouth and nose, the ash in the air seeping into your lungs, clouding your vision as the debris strains your breathing. Your ankles ache, mile after mile threatening to grind your bones to dust.

“It would seem we never knew the true power of All Might’s quirk, now known as One for All.”

A thickness swells up in your throat, your eyes blurring with tears, and yet you keep walking. You push through the thickets of overgrown foliage, slashing away with the machete you usually keep tucked against your hip. Crying will do nothing to help you, not now. Tears are for the weak.

“He had passed on his power to a successor, a young student named Midoriya Izuku.”

The darkness of night helps to hide you from those who want you slain where you stand. Your black clothing keeps you but a shadow amongst the trees, concealing your identity to anyone who might gaze upon the horizon. Even though you are alone, your mission keeps you company.

“The young boy became an amazing Pro Hero, climbing the charts quite fast once graduating from Yuuei High. And then, something happened.”

You grit your teeth when you see your destination ahead – a large cliff, covered in moss and dense, lush kudzu. There is a cave carved into the side of it, hardly able to be seen from the distance with which you are currently separated from it. And yet, you’ve been dreaming about this place for years, ever since the overture.

“It would seem that young Midoriya Izuku, also known as Deku, has killed the Symbol of Peace.

All Might is dead.”

The weight of the world settles on your shoulders at the memory of the news broadcast. It is like this new path you’ve gone down has formed you into some sort of Atlas, a woman in charge of holding the world together from the shadows, as if it may fall apart if you falter for even the slightest of moments. Your knees ache and your back is slick with sweat, but somehow you manage to shoulder the burden and keep walking, galaxies treading in your wake.

After all, finding Ground Zero is your responsibility.

“We need him.”

You brush your hair from your eyes, looking down at the map strewn out in tatters on the tabletop, “No one has seen him, not really. He’s practically a myth, a legend. Even if he’s real, what makes you think he’ll help us?”

The redhead beside you slams his fists together, the echoing sound of stone impacting stone reverberating in the room. You wince at the sharpness of it, but combined with the determined expression rooted within his features, you feel a renewed sense of purpose settled into your spine. You straighten up, curling your hands to fists, and match his manifestation of conviction with a grit of your teeth and tilt of your head.

“You’re right, Kirishima,” you point to the central location on the map, the one you’ve been investigating for what feels like years, “Ground Zero will be there. And I’m going to convince him to help us.”

The stone bites into your blunt nails, drawing blood that makes it even more difficult to scale the side of the structure. You knew this would come, so the makeshift climbing gear strapped to your waist keeps you secure as you continue to lower yourself down.

At the mouth of the cave, you see a small overhang, just far enough past the opening for you to land. Once you’ve gotten close enough that you know you won’t fall to your death into whatever disastrous demise may greet you thousands of feet below, you drop onto the ledge. Your knees wobble, ankles turned at just the right angle that they absorb most of your fall.

The opening of the cavern is dark; ominous smoke leaking from the front of it, furling around in midair. Your body shudders, a chill sending a fresh wave of goosebumps over your skin, and for a moment you wonder if you should retreat.

Kirishima’s crimson eyes, hard set and piercing, are all you can see when you close your eyes. His voice rings in your ears, reminding you that this is what you must do, you have to find Ground Zero. He is the only one capable of taking down Deku.

You swallow, bracing your spine and curling your fists, forcing yourself to take the first step forward. There is a curtain of vines separating the inside of the cave from you. You reach forward, curling your fingers around the thick, verdant tendrils, and push them to the sides so you may walk through.

Every single nerve within your body vibrates with the knowledge that you may die here in this cave, alone and forgotten. Your lower lip wobbles, but you stamp down the negative emotions and rather channel them into something akin to confidence. Once you’ve passed through to the other side, you release the vines and find yourself shrouded in darkness.

It takes a moment, but your eyes adjust eventually. You can make out the walls of the cave, glistening and jagged, and you use the reach of your arms to press against the rocky surface, guiding yourself further down the winding path. It is strange when you feel a substance much more powdery beneath your touch, and when you pull your hand away to smell it, the scent reminds you of soot.

Sweat rolls down your spine, tickling your skin, but you do not have the patience nor the ability to redirect your attention to it, for fear of what might happen when you refocus to something less important. You hold your breath, trying to listen as best you can for any and all sounds echoing within the walls of the cave, but all you hear is quiet.

Your imagination begins to wander as you take each step, furthering the horrific ends you’ve conjured up for yourself within the confines of your mind. The chill of the cave in tandem with your sweat creates steam from your body, rising high and bringing forth a bout of humidity that gives your lungs more difficulty.

Turning a corner, you feel the air begin to get warmer. You force yourself to take short breaths, bringing oxygen to flow back through your blood as it rushes through you, thundering in your ears. The sound does little to quell the panic rising in your throat, like a billow of smoke suffocating you as it rolls through your body.

Fear grips your heart when you hear the first sound.

You stop, turning your feet in case you need to bolt in the opposite direction. Your eyes are widened, pupils dilated in the dark to try and accommodate. It does not repeat itself, but rather alters, when you hear it again.

“Tch.”

The human-like nature of the sound brings about a whole new level of anxiety, lightning strikes underneath your skin as reality settles in. You lick at your lips, the dryness of your mouth ever present when you prepare yourself for a speech. You continue down the cave pathway, the faint glow of orange beginning to color the walls, giving you more light to see your feet in front of you.

Eventually you are able to stumble through the cavern on your own now, without the guide of your hands on the rock on either side of you. Shallow breaths fill your lungs, erratic breathing making your shoulders shake in anticipation. You lick at the seams of your gums, begging your mind to call forth a beautiful string of words that will convince this legendary vigilante to once again rise up, with the backing of your renegade fighters, to take down the villainous once-hero Deku.

You come up on the furthermost part of the cave, the base of it opening up and rounding out to provide the hideaway with a spacious enough cavity to serve as a living space.

Your eyes are drawn to every inch of the room, starting with the wall where weapons are strung up like trophies. Chiseled into the stone are hollows in the shape of guns and knives and grenades, acting like shelving for the tools of destruction. Beneath it is the fire pit, burning high with flames, licking up at the air and peeling away what little oxygen remains. You find it harder to breathe here, mostly in part to the depth of the cave and the ongoing fire, stealing the breath from your very lungs.

Then your eyes find him, his back to you, settled on a log that will most likely be used for firewood at a later date. Your tongue feels like a sandbag in your mouth and you can’t force yourself to produce enough saliva to make up for the smoke in your throat.

And then he rises.

He is every bit as beautiful as they said he would be in all of the stories. Tales of bulging muscle and tall stature, hands that save the world with each flex of his knuckles, scars littering his body like a map, or like veins of pain running through slabs of chiseled marble.

He turns, and his eyes seem familiar.

You take a hesitant step forward, captivate by his serious stare. The rivulets of crimson and amber swirling in his irises make you want to drown in a lake of fire, burned at the stake for the sake of his cause. Your body cannot resist him, so you draw closer, further into the heat, begging yourself to become a slave to it so long as it means you can continue to find him in the flames.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

You are fumbling for words when he speaks again, “You’re wasting my time, baka. I’m not sure what about the sight of a secluded, secret cave gave you the idea to waltz in here like you own the damned place, but I’m kind of busy. So leave.”

The way your eyes roam around his abode, settling on each small space and dissecting it for everything that it is worth, unsettles him. He steps closer to you, blocking your vision with his wide shoulders.

“It doesn’t look like you’re very busy.”

The words are blurted from your mouth with little forethought, but they have you both reeling, your hands slapped over your lips as if you could take them back with simple action. The man stood in front of you shifts into some sort of attack position, hands curled into fists and the air begins to smell sickly sweet.

“Fucking bitch,” he bites the words as they exit his teeth, narrowing his eyes to you until they are but slits, “Get the hell out!”

“No, no!” You are flailing now, the impending doom of your failure to bring him back with you turning your stomach into knots. You shake your head, reaching out to press your hands to his chest, “Listen, please, you are Ground Zero, are you not?”

The sound of his own name echoing in the cave gives him pause. He tilts his head, ashen locks falling over his line of sight. You notice his head is buzzed at the base, nothing but blonde stubble left behind, however the top of his head is covered with pale locks of spike hair, as if he himself is a bomb ready to be blown at all times.

“I don’t know who the hell told you where to find me, but I’m not the guy you’re looking for.” He smacks your hands away with the back of his wrist, turning to stalk back to the fire. Once he settles on his stump again, he pulls another skewer of meat from a pack off to the side, rotating it over the fire to begin roasting it.

All you can think is how much of a let down this entire trip has been. You have walked for miles, for days, in order to hunt him down. You have hidden in jungles and abandoned buildings, and almost been caught by several villains with quirks you almost could not overpower on your own.

“Kirishima spoke so highly of you,” your voice is faraway, like you are on another plane of existence, looking down on him from above, “I thought you’d be more heroic than this.”

At the sound of your friend’s name, the man’s head tilts, eyes shifting as he looks over his shoulder at you, “Kirishima? Eijirou?”

“Y-You know Kiri?”

You take a cautious step forward, unsure of whether he believes Kirishima to be a friend or a foe. His eyes are lost, somewhere between here and there, unable to focus on any one thing as he rolls the name around on his tongue, tasting the distant memories there while they play out against the cavern walls for only his eyes to see.

“Kirishima was my-” he pauses, gritting his teeth together as his knuckles turn white around the skewer, “…he was my friend.”

The man stands to his feet, discarding the half-cooked slab of meat into the fire, “If Kirishima sent you, then things must be bad.”

You nod, striding forward until you are just close enough that his body heat is intoxicating, and the scent from earlier, the one that makes your head spin with saccharine promises, fills your nostrils until you cannot make out anything else.

“We need your help,” you say, voice wavering in the middle, “Deku has started to search for every hero, every renegade, and he’s murdering them. I came to bring you back to the rest of those who are still fighting. You are a legend, if we have your help, there’s no way we’ll lose.”

A wry smirk adorns his mouth, quirking his lips upward, “Kid, I don’t know who told you I was a legend, or that I’d be of any help, but I’m out here for a reason.”

“Just come back with me,” you plead, resisting the desire to wrap your fists around his tank and pull, “we need you.”

There is a hesitant look in his vermilion irises, something that tells you he is still hiding something. But, he straightens his spine anyway, a deep breath puffing out his chest, “I always did like to kick Deku’s ass.”

You cannot contain the beaming smile on your face, even when you turn on your heels to begin walking out of the cave and back to the light.

Which keeps you from seeing the dejected look in his eyes.

*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*

Weeks of planning the perfect attack have brought you and Ground Zero closer.

Although now you know him as Bakugou Katsuki.

When he first reunited with Kirishima, and his presence was made known to your rag-tag team, you were shaken at the realization that legends are people too. Even in his vigilante times, Bakugou still held that same spark that lit his flame throughout the duration of his time at Yuuei, much of which he spent with Kirishima by his side.

“Holy shit, man!” Kirishima reaches around his shoulders for a hug, which Bakugou hardly reciprocates, “I can’t believe Ground Zero is you!”

There are moments where you catch his gaze lingering on you – when you are cooking dinner, when you chop firewood – and of course your eyes find him too. He trains shirtless most of the time, body on display as the sweat rolls down his body. His knuckles are bruised and his body is battered, and yet he continues to get up every day and start all over again.

You do note that you have not seen him use his quirk, not since he arrived at your renegade hideaway. It seems to be in reverie of everything going on, but from what you remember, Bakugou Katsuki was not a shy man, never one to keep himself from the spotlight. It is why he is the only one who pushed himself hard enough to compete with Deku, and to stay as his rival.

When you ask Kirishima, he just shrugs it off, “He probably doesn’t want any attention. Would you, if you felt like you had run away when the world needed another hero?”

So you co-exist. He near you, and you near him. Always orbiting, but never colliding.

There are times where you allow your affections to slip. When you’re passing him by, a gentle palm on his hip to alert him of your presence. When he reaches above you to pull a weapon off the shelf, his hand finds purchase at the base of your spine, as if steadying himself even though he is one of the sturdiest men you have ever seen.

There is a moment, a drunken haze, that leads you to believe he might even kiss you, however it is gone before it has the ability to flower into anything more.

Time passes, months that feel like years, of tracking and sleuthing and killing. There is murder on both sides, and you have both suffered losses.

One night he finds you, sitting on the beach, your tears glittering like starlight on your cheeks.

“This is war,” he says, squatting in the sand, “none of us is innocent.”

You sniffle, rubbing your arm against your face to rid it of your transgressions, “And what about those who want to be?”

Bakugou reaches forward, a careful palm gliding over your cheek as a new bout of tears springs forth like a leak. You can’t see the sad smile on his face through your tears, your vision glassy and clouded, and he is thankful that you cannot spot his weakness. He brushes the tears away and turns your head with the gentle flick of his wrist, “We’ll get there when we get there.”

You want to crumble, to falter and fall into a million shards of glass, and he knows this. He must, because there’s no way that the pressure of the lives of the rest of the world does not eat away at one’s soul until there is nothing but barren earth left. You circle your hand around his wrist, leaning your cheek into his palm so you can feel the heat of him and find comfort in his touch.

“What if we never get there?”

You can’t look at him, not when your scars are on display. Your heart wrenches in your chest and the pain is like a thousand cuts littered across your body until you are nothing but bleeding wounds. In your mind, you’ve succumbed to the sea of red, drowning in it, choking on it.

Bakugou does a strange thing then. He presses his other palm to your waist, drawing you forward so he can kiss the smooth skin of your forehead, “Don’t be an idiot.”

And then he turns to leave.

Your forehead burns like a blister with the echo of his affections.

*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*

The time finally comes.

After months of research and loss, there is a plan.

“We know where he’s hiding,” Kirishima points to a central location on the map, releasing a breath as he looks up to Bakugou, “the guards will change shift at midnight, and that’s when you’ll attack. We’ll be on the ground to distract any other, smaller threats, but we’re counting on you to take him down in the end.”

Bakugou shoves Kirishima, but he falters himself, eyes unable to focus on any one thing, “I know, idiot. You didn’t bring me all the way out here to take my victory from me.”

You smile at the scene, catching his gaze as he turns to look back at the rest of the room. There is a crack in his armor when he sees you, confidence melting into something else, another emotion you can’t quite pin down. And you’re not sure if you really want to.

The rest of the meeting is all logistics, something you have already heard a dozen times, so you find yourself wandering along the coastline, the night air washing like a balm over you, sea salt in your lungs when you breathe. Your feet are barely in the water, but enough for it to lap up around your ankles with foam when the waves crest to shore. You hold yourself around the middle, as if you might be able to keep your broken pieces from shattering if you squeeze tightly enough.

Tears of salt match that of the ocean as the droplets roll down your cheeks, hanging on your jaw until they are too weighty, and then they fall into the seawater, melded together as if they belong. Your fingers ache, digging into your biceps to give yourself some sort of anchor while you watch the moon and stars shift in the night sky.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

The words are reminiscent of the first time you met, all those months ago. They make you smile, a gentle huff of a laugh escaping your lips, even if the gesture does not quite reach your eyes. You turn to look at him over your shoulder, arms still wrapped around your torso, the jagged edges of your soul sinking in deeper the more you try to hide your faltering pieces.

“Thinking,” you answer quietly, soft voice almost overwhelmed by the waves.

Bakugou is drawn in closer, as if you are the sea, a siren calling to him from the beyond, and he strides forward until he is parallel with you. His eyes watch the waves, but the pull is to you, and he can only resist for so long.

“It’s just Deku,” he is trying to reassure you, reaching out to rest his palm on your neck, sifting fingers through the hair at the nape of it. “I won’t lose to him, not again.”

This brings your attention to his eyes, your body turning so you can approach him head-on, fear wracking your body like a storm. You gaze up at him, jaw quivering under the stress of your teeth grinding against one another, “Why did he do it?”

His hand glides from your neck to your jaw, tilting your eyes upward so you cannot look away from him, in spite of how difficult this conversation might be to have. He has not spoken of his childhood rival for what feels like an eternity; airing out his burdened confessions is but a foreign concept. He would rather keep them bottled away within the cage of his ribs, until the poison slowly dredges through his veins and he can fall away into some deep sleep brought on by death.

“No one could have expected it,” Bakugou starts, thumb tracing the curve of your jaw as he speaks, like the ministrations may give him the groundwork to have the conversation, “but One for All had too many wielders, had grown too powerful. Deku’s body couldn’t contain it and still stay sane.”

Bakugou looks frustrated, his brow tugged so his forehead wrinkles. You reach up to brush your thumb over the creased skin, “I’ve heard the stories. That the call to power was too strong, and he never told anyone because he was afraid of being weak.”

“Izuku has never been weak.”

His voice is ragged, as if glass has been lodged into his throat to inhibit his speech. Bakugou turns his head so you cannot see the emotion welling up in his eyes, “All Might should have seen it, but by the time he caught it, Deku had already gone mad. He snapped All Might’s neck on live television, the fucking bastard.”

The heaviness of the situation sits on your shoulders and you wonder if Bakugou has ever felt the burden of Atlas; you recall the significant burden weighing you down when you were first sent to retrieve him. Your mortal body wanted to crumble beneath the importance of your mission, you can’t even begin to fathom the overwhelming guilt he must be riddled with every day from the moment he wakes until he falls asleep.

“Then he came after the rest of us, one-by-one. Todoroki was next, then Uraraka.” Bakugou swallows the thick, pent-up emotion settled in his throat like barbed wire. He steels his gaze, even though it is only focused on the moon. “Kirishima was able to take a group of heroes and hide out when Deku came for me.”

You recall the fight like a movie playing on the backs of your eyelids. Bakugou and Deku fighting head to head, lightning and explosions igniting the swirling storm the unfurled around them. Pouring rain and debris flying, small tornados brought on by the use of Deku’s quirk, destroying the nearby buildings until there was nothing left.

Bakugou’s voice is heady, hands fallen from your face as if he no longer deserves to touch you. He takes a step backward, the roaring of the ocean giving him a pause, as if he were listening to the water for some sort of encouragement to continue his tale, to keep fighting.

You can’t help but wonder if losing the proverbial fight against Deku has tarnished his soul much deeper than he would ever admit, if his body has been at war with itself for years, unable to choose a side, unable to relent.

“I fought him for what felt like hours. Whatever One for All had done to him, corrupted his mind, broken his spirit,” Bakugou shakes his head, a snarl on his lips, “that wasn’t Deku that I was fighting. That was someone else.”

His breath hitches, “I-I’m not sure what the fuck possessed him to do what he did next, but he took-”

Bakugou’s throat bobs and his eyes flit from you to the water, unable to look at you in the face as he gnaws on his lower lip. The words must be too harsh, a pain running much further than skin deep. You know that his soul must be bruised, the very core of him broken beyond recognition.

“Took what, Katsuki?” you ask gently, reaching to tug his chin back so he is looking down at you, “You can tell me.”

Bakugou’s breathing is labored, quick, a mixture of frustration and anguish pressing down on his throat like a pair of hands, encasing his esophagus in a tight grip. He shakes his head, “He, uh- he let me go.”

It sounds disingenuous coming from his mouth, as if he’s forcing a lie through his teeth, his voice grating against his gums like metal. You reach out to touch his arm, but he sloughs you off with a quick movement, taking a step and pushing you further. Tears glisten in his eyes, but he does not let them fall; he cannot lose the battle with his body too. He looks up to the moon and lets loose a feral growl, crumbling to his knees and digging his hands into the wet sand, like tearing into it might provide him some sort of release.

“And then I tucked my fucking tail and I ran. Like a goddamn coward.” Bakugou’s jaw is rippling when he snaps his attention to you, eyes ablaze with red fire, “And that’s the hero you all claim to have needed. I wasn’t a hero, I was a fucking pussy. I was weak.”

Bakugou rises from the water, a murderous glare in his eyes, “And now I’m done being weak. I’m going to finish what I couldn’t before, I’m going to kill the bastard.”

You have let him vent his personal failures into the air, but now it is your turn to speak. Circling your fingers around his wrists, you pull yourself closer to him, as if the two of you are bound by an invisible thread.

“You’re not going alone,” you tell him, voice sure. You stand rooted in the ground, feet dug deep in the sand, “I won’t let you.”

He rolls his eyes, blowing a breath out of his nose, “And you think I’ll let you? No fucking way.”

The words sit on your tongue, burning like embers, syllables you’ve been stoking for months as you’ve grown closer to him. Your body rises up on your toes on instinct alone, eyelashes fluttering shut as you take him in one last time. You grit your teeth and a breath shudders from your lungs, shattering your heart like glass.

Your fingers traipse up his torso, climbing over the mounds of muscle that he has worked so hard to perfect. You feel the heat of tears well up in the back of your eyes, your vision blurred as you try to memorize everything about him in the short time you have left. When your palms reach his cheeks, fingertips dancing against warm, tanned skin, you can’t help but to tug yourself closer.

He can barely protest before you have melded your mouth to his, arching your back so your chest is flush with the broad plane of muscle in front of you. Bakugou hesitates, but just as you are about to pull away and profusely apologize, his arms snake around your waist to yank you closer. Your hips roll into his reflexively, finding the hardened length of his cock almost instantly.

Bakugou’s kiss is bruising, a heated ferocity driving him forward to part your lips at the seams, delving his tongue between your teeth at the first chance he receives. You moan at his affections, your hands threading through his hair, pinkies finding the stubble of his undercut while the others sift between blonde locks.

Tears are pushed from your eyelids, and he feels them against his cheeks as he kisses you. Bakugou slips his hands under the thin fabric of your tattered shirt, warmth spreading from the base of your spine outward to every extremity.

“I won’t lose you,” you manage between breaths, forcing the words out despite the possibility of his rejection.

Bakugou does not stop loitering affection over you like it were his job just because you show a moment of vulnerability. Rather, he’s spurred on by the admission, his hands digging deeper into your muscles now, most likely leaving bruises in their wake, and his teeth and tongue are merciless on your mouth.

The palms of his hands slowly drift down until he has cupped your thighs, his body folded just enough to give him a better angle to pull you up into the air. You hold in a squeal, unwilling to alert the rest of the camp, quickly wrapping your legs around his waist.

He breaks the kiss as oxygen begs his airways to open up once more, heaving breaths making his chest expand with sharp inhales. Through gasping breaths, he shakes his head, “I’m not going anywhere.”

You’re not sure how best to beg him to take you for all you’re worth here on the beach, but somehow you must silently communicate it, because he finds a secluded place and lays you down there, your back dug into the ground, but you are rather uncaring to it all. Your hands can’t find enough of him, insatiable in your efforts to map him out to memory, burning the impression of him into your mind so you may never lose him, even if something tragic were to part the two of you forever.

Bakugou’s fingers make quick work of the button of your shorts, delving his hand inside to brush at the bare folds of your core, already slick with arousal. He chuckles, nudging his nose over your neck, “Prepared for this, were you?”

A laugh is cut short by a whine, his teeth sinking into your jugular, sucking harshly on the skin there. Your hands find his shoulders, blunt nails bludgeoning the skin of his shoulders so he is seething into your body, curses flying from his lips as if they might brand your flesh if he whispers them hotly enough.

You whimper his name as he sheathes his fingers within you, two knuckles stretching your inner walls, scissored fingers making you throw your head back. Your body does not feel like your own, every wanton moan and twitch of your muscles in response to his salacious ministrations, reactions that you cannot fight, even if you wanted to.

Giving in, you reach down desperately, clawing your nails at the waistband of his cargo pants, uncaring as to how you get your palm underneath his underwear. Bakugou uses the hand not buried in your pussy to grab you by the wrist, pinning your hand over your head.

“You’re a needy little slut, hah?” Bakugou tightens his grip and speeds up his pace, earning him a wriggle from your body as you try to fight back. He smirks, teeth and gums on full display as he glowers down at you, “Don’t you worry, baby, I’m gonna give you my cock. Be patient.”

You whine in response, tilting your head to try and capture his lips again. Bakugou finds you halfway, his mouth parted so you can begin mapping out the curves of his teeth with your tongue. You kiss him as if your life may depend on it, like the time you are sharing may end at any moment.

You kiss him like he may die tomorrow.

There is fervor and passion and admiration conveyed with each smacking of your lips, your noses brushing when you try to angle yourselves to become closer. All the while, his middle and fourth fingers are working you forward into the throws of pleasure, lightning striking your core whenever his fingers brush up against your glutinous walls in just the right manner.

“Katsuki, please,” you beg of him, dragging your nails over the corded muscle of his shoulders. You can feel yourself slipping already, the impending doom of what is to come giving your body more urgency.

Bakugou growls when he feels your cunt clamp around his fingers, the thought of his cock within your tight hole making him dick twitch. You buck up when the head of his length brushes your thigh in his arousal, seeking him out despite the fullness you already feel from his digits pumping up into your heat.

Your whole body is shaking with the threat of your impending orgasm on the horizon, brought on by his disastrous fingers urging you forward. You cry out for him, wanton and begging as you pant his name repeatedly, rocking your hips with the rhythm of his fingers. Bakugou’s eyes roam your body as he leans back from you, gaze immediately drawn to the bounce of your plush chest. With each thrust of his fingers, your body quivers, and he knows he won’t be able to last apart from you for much longer, regardless.

As his fingers slowly peel from you, a whine tears your chest wide open. Tears drip down over your cheeks, a mixture of emotion and erotica giving the sound much more conviction. Bakugou feels the reverberations of your voice in his chest, stirring him to brush your silken slick along the length of his cock, pumping his shaft a few times before repositioning himself above you.

Bakugou rolls his wrist so the tip of his dick butterflies your pussy lips. You pant at the exhilaration of it all, your cunt fluttering as he pulls himself away from you only to bring it all back. His teasing strokes make your head spin, eyes barely able to peel open to look up at him. Your tongue lolls out of your mouth, and Bakugou leans forward to tug the muscle between his teeth, earning him an animalistic howl from the back of your throat.

The plea from you gives him the last push he needs to rut forward and claim you in one fatal stroke.

Your hands sink into him like hooks, eyes screwed shut as he starts to suck on your tongue. Bakugou’s breath spills over you like a wash of heat, sending a shudder down your spine. He uses his hands to grip you by the thighs, yanking you closer so your hips are flush as he sinks all the way into you all over again.

“Ka-” you can barely make a sound with the way his mouth has destroyed yours, suffocating you until you are lightheaded with the thought of him. As you struggle beneath him, Bakugou releases you in favor of leaning back to watch as his cock separates your walls and fills your cunt until it stretches to fit his thick girth.

You are a blubbering mess the moment he allows you space to breathe. Your hands can’t find enough of him to paint with your touch, nails dragging thin, angry red lines into his thighs, and your throat only knows how to say his name.

“Good girl,” he chuckles, watching you come undone beneath him, “I can’t wait to feel you come all over my cock.”

His dick is rutting into you at an impeccable pace, the tip of his cock brushing against your walls as he twitches from your tight pussy. Bakugou digs his fingers into the skin of your thighs, likely bruising them with the intensity of his grip, pushing your knees back until they are pressed against your chest so he can fuck into you from above.

You lick your lips, thin rivulets of drool seeping out of the corners of your mouth, “Please, Bakugou, I-I wanna come.”

The desire to rip your arousal from you until you cannot speak in full sentences gives him a fiery drive, his hips slamming into your ass as filthy words fall from his lips. You can feel his cock bottoming out within your cunt, thickening with each stroke of his hips as he grows closer to the end himself. You beg for his spend, for him to coat you until you are dripping with his seed, the mixture of your arousal and his pre seeping from your lips and furthering the wet sounds that echo whenever his balls slap against your ass.

“You wanna come on my cock, yeah?” he asks, voice dithering the longer he’s within you. You are begging him now, your back arched forward so you can seek him out with wide eyes and pleading palms. He soaks in the affections, your hands on his face and in his hair, your lips finding purchase on whatever part of his body you can reach.

A snarl makes his throat shake and, if possible, he rips into your even further, growling voice speaking into your ear as you fall back against the ground at the sheer force of his hips, “Then fucking come, slut.”

His words are all you need to push you into the next plane of existence, where a shattering orgasm racks your body. You convulse around his cock, the newfound tightness as you milk your own release pushing him over the crest as well. He drives his cock as deep into you as he can, your hips flush at the juxtaposition of your sex as he spurts up into your core. You feel the heat of his release, the twitch of his cock, and your limbs grow numb from effort.

Bakugou leans forward so he is balancing himself on his forearms, nosing over the swell of your chest and the column of your neck, small, chaste kisses littered over your skin like stars. He sighs, nudging your collarbone, “You’re not coming with me tomorrow. I won’t lose you too.”

Your heart sings at his admission, and your spirit wants to argue, but when he kisses you again, you can’t find it within yourself to tell him otherwise.

*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*

“All right, man,” Kirishima claps him on the back, leaning against the brick wall of the alleyway.

You can tell that there is much more he wants to say, but Bakugou has never had much patience for any sort of sappy confession, so all that passes between them is a nod of understanding. You, on the other hand, are careless in your affection, launching yourself forward to wrap your arms around his neck and kiss him full on the mouth, uncaring for the onlookers unbeknownst to your time together.

When you pull away, there are tears in your eyes, but you force the words between your teeth regardless, “Don’t die on me.”

Bakugou’s eyes are sad, holding such a dark color in his usually bright irises, “A real hero always comes out on top, no matter what.”

Usually it is said with much conviction, but this time, it sounds like he is trying to convince himself more so than anyone else. Your hands palm over his face, committing him to memory one last time before he turns his back to you, headed towards the end of the line, unknowing as to which side he may end up on this time.

As soon as he steps out onto the pavement, he’s greeted with the familiar laughter of an old friend.

“Oi, Kacchan. It’s been too long.”

Your heart leaps into your throat and Kirishima has to hold you back, hidden away in the shadows. You look at him over your shoulder, eyes blown wide as your pupils swallow your irises, “H-He was supposed to be alone.”

The look in Kirishima’s eyes is haunting, a desolate gaze turned on his best friend. He tightens his jaw and breathes heavily through his nostrils, an answer never given as he watches on in horror at the scene in front of him unfolding.

“I thought I told you to get lost,” Deku speaks, voice confusingly innocent despite the feral look in his eyes. A cackle parts his lips and you’ve never seen Bakugou this quiet during a fight, “But, then again, wouldn’t a fight between the All Mighty Deku and a Quirkless Kacchan be entertaining?”

Your whole world turns sideways.

Bakugou’s words from the very beginning replay on loop in your mind as your breathing corrupts your own lungs, shattered and shaking as your body coats itself in sweat.

His breath hitches, “I-I’m not sure what the fuck possessed him to do what he did next, but he took-”

“Took what, Katsuki?” you ask gently, reaching to tug his chin back so he is looking down at you, “You can tell me.”

Bakugou Katsuki is quirkless.

Now more than ever you want to dart out into the street, to throw yourself down like a sacrificial lamb for the slaughter. Whatever it takes to keep Katsuki safe. Tears blur your vision and anger scars your heart, marring up the organ until you cannot feel it beating within your own chest.

Bakugou turns his head, vermilion eyes seeking you out in the darkness of the alleyway. He smiles, for the first time in full, and offers you one final look at his body completely intact before he returns his gaze to his childhood rival, hands turning to fists at his sides as he gets into his fighting position.

“So pathetic, Kacchan.” Deku looks Bakugou in the eyes as he ignites his quirk, green lightning dancing around as a storm begins to brew.

He holds up his hands, palms open-faced as his skin crackles, the sweet smell of saccharine turning to ash in the air. Colors of orange and yellow cast frightening shadows along the length of the street, a familiar power exploding on the cusp of Deku’s fingers.

“And now you die.”

a/n: i don’t think that went how anyone thought it would! it’s a lot different from anything i’ve ever done, and i’m not fully happy with it. but thank you for reading, if you got this far!!

#bakugou katsuki #bakugou katsuki smut #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugou smut #bnha x reader #bnha smut #morgan writes bnha #my writing #bnharem #server collab #bnharem server collab

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hinerdsitscat · 5 years

Text

Timeless Children AU

Okay, but what if the Doctor had found out the Big Reveal on her own, instead of also having to figure out how to stop a Cyber invasion and dealing with the Master being Predictably Petty and Extra all at the same time?

And what if she had been given a few minutes to actually cope with that information?

Well, I wrote A Thing as part of the Where We Belong AU fic:

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The Doctor went back to Gallifrey over and over, her curiosity finally overwhelming her fear of what that knowledge might do to her.

But there wasn’t an obvious path forward. Not without involving someone else—and while she was verging on desperate, she wasn’t yet desperate enough that she would stoop to tampering with the memories of someone who trusted her.

Wait.

Something else that the Master said: It’s buried deep in all our memories.

Every single Time Lord, walking around with a tiny shard of the answer inside of them.

Every Time Lord.

Even the ones who were long gone.

She started keying in the coordinates, silently praying that there was a location inside the Citadel that still had enough space for her TARDIS to land.

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This place held almost as many memories for her as the Matrix itself.

Few of them were pleasant memories.

She couldn’t stop herself from approaching the Matrix: the repository of all Time Lord knowledge and memory.

She hooked it up to the TARDIS’s telepathic circuits—no need to risk losing herself inside the Matrix—and, taking a deep breath, closed her eyes and connected.

Brace yourself, Doctor… this is going to hurt.

Billions of Time Lords, millions of years, and an almost infinite number of memories… how could one possibly navigate this?

Come on, old girl, she whispered to the TARDIS, take me where I need to be.

The TARDIS complied, using its navigation circuits to guide her mind through the chaos… back and back and back… to the very beginning.

To an explorer finding an abandoned child at the boundary to another dimension.

To a happy childhood, one where the child played and learned and never had a single thought about the dimension she left behind. A childhood where she never thought she might be anything but ordinary.

But tragedy struck (as it would strike over and over again, inescapable for her, like a stormcloud following always behind) and then everything changed.

She was dying… and then she was reborn. A new face and a new voice and a new chapter in her life.

It was not a pleasant chapter.

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Perhaps it was easier to tell the story like this:

Once upon a time, there was a little girl who was lost in the woods alone. She was found by a friendly traveller, who took her home and raised the girl as her own child.

The girl and her new mother were happy. The mother loved the little girl, and the little girl loved her in return.

But one day, the girl was careless and cut herself on a sharp rock. Her mother ran to her when she heard her daughter’s cries and discovered a most peculiar thing: instead of blood, the little girl bled pieces of gold.

Perhaps someone else, a different mother, would have bandaged the girl’s wound and eased her pain. But that would be a different story: a much shorter one… and a much happier one.

The mother’s greed was a vicious thing, and the possibility of gaining such riches was too tantalising to pass up.

She began to prick the girl’s finger with a pin, every so often, and gathering the gold dust that she bled. For a time, the mother was happy, and so the girl was happy as well and did not mind the little pains.

But then the mother’s greed returned and she began to cut the girl’s arm with a tiny knife and gathering the gold nuggets that tumbled out. And, for a time, the mother was happy, and so the girl was happy and did not mind the slightly larger pains.

But then the mother’s greed returned, and she stopped calling the little girl her daughter.

The knives grew larger and the cuts grew deeper and the girl bled torrents of gold constantly and the pain was more than she could bear.

She thought it would go on forever.

But forever is a tricky thing. Something might last forever, but that doesn’t mean that it won’t change.

One day, the woman who had once been her mother discovered a way to create gold without her.

Perhaps it was finally over, the little girl wondered. Maybe this was the day that things would go back to the way they used to be, when she was safe and warm and happy.

Instead, the woman cut out the girl’s tongue so that she could never tell anyone else her secret, and threw her outside into the cold.

And the secret remained a secret, but the little girl never stopped hurting and she never stopped running.

She is still running now, in fact.

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The Doctor watched and remembered.

She remembered being lost and then being found.

She remembered being safe and then being in pain.

She watched the person she trusted change into someone unrecognizable. She watched the way that the bright spark of interest on Tecteun’s face morphed over time into cold clinical cruelty as she forced her to regenerate over and over again, trying to claw the secret to eternity out of her genetic code. At first, Tecteun tried to minimise whatever pain she could and apologise for the pain that she couldn’t. She would sing her to sleep and hold her when the fear was too much… but that tenderness faded, replaced by silence and frustration until Tecteun stopped talking to her entirely.

Regeneration was not easy and it was not painless. It was the opposite of painless, in fact: the body’s desperate act when the alternative was even more painful. It averted death by being as close to death as possible: that final moment of terror and pain right before the silence ensued.

Only with regeneration, there was no silence. No peace. Just pain and fear and survival.

Tecteun would perform her experiments and then would switch her off like a light.

She was just a specimen, after all. Not a real person. A mystery to be solved and then resealed, over and over again.

And, finally, when she thought it would be over because Tecteun had gotten what she wanted, they still had more uses for her.

They did this to me.

Nothing of herself belonged to her: her body, her memories, her choices—

They did this to me.

If it had just been the experiments, she might have been able to let it go as just one person’s cruelty. Except that it wasn’t: even after Tecteun had gotten what she wanted, the Doctor had been a tool for the Time Lords to use. She endured more lifetimes than she could count at the hands of the Division and the constant memory wipes and shattering of her identity and thoughts to the point where she forgot her own name because no one had ever spoken it.

No wonder she rarely remembered who she was after regenerating.

They did this to me.

She felt herself trembling. She felt like she was going to burst into flames.

She wanted to smash something. She wanted to destroy something. She wanted to watch it burn.

She tried desperately to get some measure of control over herself.

Take a deep breath, Doctor—

She cried out as a memory cut across her mind like a knife made of fire:

“You are the only one who believes that these efforts have any merit,” the older man said, looking around the laboratory in obvious disgust. Not because of the acts performed, not because of the silent child strapped to the examination table like something on display, but because of the wasted resources. “Our willingness to support your project is growing thin, Doctor.”

It might have been comforting if Tecteun’s expression had shown any vulnerability, or a trace of something other than that cold intensity. But even to those that she presumably considered “people,” there was no warmth in her.

“I’m close,” Tecteun insisted. “I had a new result with the samples yesterday. All I need is more time, just a little more patience… I’m so close, Lord President.”

His eyes briefly flicked over to the child. “Is the specimen in danger of damage?”

That was when Tecteun smiled. “I told you before: it can’t be killed. That’s why it’s perfect—and why it’s so important to unlock that quality in its genetic code.” Her expression was more teeth than smile. “And once I do, we’ll never have to worry about ‘patience’ again. We’ll have all the time in the world.”

The man mirrored her expression. “See that you do. Great changes are coming, but we cannot wait forever.”

“As I said,” Tecteun said, “soon we’ll have all the forever we desire.”

“Very well. I’ll leave you to your work, Doctor.”

She inhaled sharply as the memory receded.

I used it… when I chose my name I used her—

No. It’s not hers. I made it my own, I gave it its own meaning. She doesn’t get to dictate my identity anymore, it doesn’t matter what she—

But it was a lie: it mattered. Every time she thought the word “Doctor,” all it did was overwhelm her senses with unbridled rage.

There was no promise to be found in that name. No solace, no refuge.

Nothing but pain and fury.

Who am I now?

It was the question that she had spent her whole life asking and never quite answering.

But she already knew the answer. It was right there in front of her face.

The name she had been running from for so long. The promise she never thought she would make. The path she never thought she would walk.

The universe doesn’t need a Doctor anymore. It needs a prosecutor. A judge. An executioner.

It needs justice. Cold, merciless, uncompromising justice.

So, Doctor, I let you go.

It’s time for a new promise.

The Valeyard disconnected the TARDIS from the Matrix and considered her next act.

What happens next?

Oh… I know this one.

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Want to know what happens next? Check out the rest of the story, Where We Belong: in which our two favorite renegade Time Lords go on a rampage through the Doctor’s previous regenerations, in between breaks for snacks and kissing.

#doctor who #doctor who spoilers #timeless children spoilers #Thirteenth Doctor #cw child harm #cw trauma #doctor who au #doctor who fanfic #timeless children au #by me #shameless plug #fanfic excerpt #valeyard!thirteen

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janisarkisian · 4 years

Text

Silence of the Siren ch. 2

This is an AU where the Anarchist females + Narcissa are sirens, and the Renegades are lifeguards. If you want to read chapter 1, here it is. Note: This chapter is unedited.

Word Count: 1,840

Nova looked down at her plain outfit and sighed. Honey was going to another one of those stupid clubs, and she wanted Nova to go with her. What was the point? You dance, you meet a boy, you drink, you go home. She knew very well that Honey would not keep in touch with any of the boys, but that wasn’t her concern.

“Are you going?” she asked Narcissa. She shook her head no. Nova sighed again. How bad could it be? She couldn’t talk to anyone anyways, so she could just chill on her own. She didn’t have to talk to anyone.

“What do I wear?” Nova reluctantly asked Honey.

“Oh yes!” Honey squealed and disappeared into her closet. A few minutes later, Honey returned with a short, black lacy dress. It was immediate distaste for Nova. “You have to try it!” Honey insisted.

Nova sighed and disappeared into her own closet to change. When she was finished, Nova looked at her own appearance. She knew very well that she was beautiful. All sirens were. Ace made them worth it. Sometimes though, she felt very ugly. Before becoming a siren, Nova had always pictured herself ugly. Looking at herself as pretty was a hard habit to make.

Walking out of the closet, Nova heard Ingrid’s easily identified laugh. “I can’t believe you’re actually going!” she exclaimed. Nova simply rolled her eyes. Now that she knew Ingrid was in denial, she was going to have a good time simply to spite her.

Looking at her feet, Nova realized she was going to have to find some shoes. She sighed. She hardly ever wore shoes. As a siren, it was impossible to get hurt, so having foot protection was unnecessary. She knew that Ingrid felt the same way, but Honey would always wear shoes. They were yet another accessory for her to look stunning in.

She peered at her meager supply of shoes. All she had were a pair of sandals and a pair of tennis shoes. In the past ten years, Nova had not had one occasion to dress up for. That was the way she liked it.

“Honey!” she called, “I’m going to have to borrow a pair of shoes!” She heard Honey’s perfect squeal. A second later, Honey came running in the room with a pair of bright red heels.

“No,” Nova immediately protested. There was no way she could walk around all night in those. They were at least four inches high and looked like torture for feet.

Honey sighed. “Fine. I suppose I could find something a little more modest.” The look on Nova’s face immediately went grateful. If she was going to this club, she wasn’t torturing her feet as well.

Nova ventured into her closet. It wasn’t very full, mostly because Nova mostly wore tee-shirts and sweatpants. Occasionally, Nova went out of her comfort zone for the leggings Narcissa constantly raved about. They were nice, but Nova would always prefer sweatpants.

Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed a slight glow from the back of her closet. She shoved away the shirts and revealed a pair of blue pumps.

Blue wasn’t the right way to describe them though. They were almost a glowing turquoise and reminded Nova immensely of the bracelet that always hung on her wrist. The last thing she had from her dad.

Nova knew that it wasn’t right to remember so much. Ingrid remembered none of her family, and Honey remembered only her mother. Narcissa was very lucky to remember her grandfather’s name. Nova knew more than that though. She remembered the names of all three of her family members and their personalities. She knew that Ingrid was worried about her, so she mostly kept these memories to herself. If she was feeling talkative, she would share a few memories with Narcissa.

“I don’t need the shoes!” Nova called to Honey. Curious, Honey peeked back at her. She gasped at the sight of the glowing blue pumps.

“Those are perfect!” she exclaimed.

“Glad you think so,” Nova responded. Both girls piled into Honey’s yellow sports club. That was another plus to being a siren. Ace supplied them with all the money they could ever want, so they never had to work. It was too risky. Honey started blasting the newest pop tunes. Nova didn’t care. It was hard to keep up with the latest trends when you’re practically immortal. She preferred the music from back when she was really sixteen.

She caught sight of the club before even their GPS. Honey gasped at the sight. It was in a tall building, and it was covered with neon lights. The sign read: The Merfolk.

“Get out your fake ID,” Honey whispered to her.

“Which one?” she responded.

Honey sighed. “I don’t care, just one that says your over twenty-one. We should have visited Ace before we came here. He could have aged us a little.”

Nova let out something between a laugh and a gasp. “You really think he would help us?” she asked sarcastically, “He only uses his powers for special circumstances, and I don’t think that going to a club counts.”

“You’re right, like always,” Honey sighed again. They pulled out their fake ID’s and flashed them to the man outside. Honey made sure to give him a good look at the extra-beautiful face. Nova simply rolled her eyes.

The man did let them in, and Honey immediately made it out onto the dance floor. Even though they couldn’t talk to anyone, she had always done an exceptional job at mingling and getting various lovers. In the past ten years, Nova had exactly zero lovers. She didn’t try, for fear that she might fall in love. This was a fear that stayed far down in her heart. Ace’s minion, Phobia, checked their fears every once in a while, to make sure they weren’t getting too attached to boys. Or anything else that could jeopardize their time as sirens. Nova couldn’t risk having a boy and getting discovered. She needed to be fully loyal to Ace. Phobia told her that was another one of her fears. Losing her loyalty to Ace. ------------------------------------------------------------------------

Why am I here? That question had cycled through Adrian’s head at least ten times since he arrived at The Merfolk. He had never been one for parties. That was always Ruby and Oscar’s thing. Even Danna seemed to be having a good time though. Adrian found himself a little jealous.

He wandered over to the bar. Legally, he was too young to drink, but Oscar had found them all fake ID’s to get into the club. Adrian was starting to think that he might need some alcohol to get through the night here.

Quickly, he banished the thought from his head. What would Dad and Pops say if they knew he had been drinking at a club? They wouldn’t approve of him being here in general, much less drinking. They thought he was having a team sleepover at Oscar’s. It wasn’t a full lie because they would be going to Oscar’s after the club. He sighed. Why was he here?

Taking a look at very distracted Oscar staring at Ruby, and Ruby dancing with some stranger, Adrian decided that no one would miss him if he simply lingered in the shadows for a while. He made his way over, and nearly bumped into someone. It was a girl with short, dark hair.

“Sorry, I didn’t know anyone was back here,” he apologized. The girl didn’t respond. She took out her phone and started typing what Adrian thought might be a text. Then, she held the phone out to him The note read: I’m mute, so I can’t talk. I can hear fine though. Your apology is accepted. Adrian nodded at the girl, but he wasn’t really paying attention to the message anymore. When she had held out her phone, Adrian got a good look at her face. Truthfully, she was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. Mute or not, Adrian wouldn’t mind getting to know her.

“Are you here with someone?” he asked her. She started typing again. Her message read: Yes, my friend Honey.

Adrian nodded. “I’m here with my friends too. My friends Ruby and Oscar are dancing, with each other, I presume, and I’m sure Danna is at the bar. She’s like the vodka aunt of our group if you get what I mean.”

She nodded her head. Adrian continued, “If you look out there you can probably see them. Ruby has hair that’s dyed in layers of black and white, and Oscar has a cane. Danna’s wearing a muted orange dress.” The girl started typing again. The message read: It’s cool that you have such a cool friend group. I have two other friends named Ingrid and Narcissa, but they’re not here.

“Not the club type?” he asked her. She nodded and started typing again. This time it read: I’m not really either, but Honey really likes these places, so I figured I would give it a shot. I’ve now decided they’re not my thing.

This time it was Adrian who nodded. “I’m pretty much in your situation. Oscar and Ruby live for clubs, and even Danna seems to be having a good time, but I’m not really liking it. If they come back, I most likely won’t be with them.”

The girl looked like she was about to start typing when they both heard someone yell, “Where the heck is Adrian!”

When she typed again it said: Are you, Adrian?

“Yep,” he responded, “What’s your name?” She typed again: I’m Nova. “Cool,” he said, “Um Ruby’s obviously looking for me so I should go. I hope that I get to see you again soon.” She nodded yes, and Adrian left to go join his friends.

As Adrian and his friends piled into Oscar’s junky car, he saw Nova and who he presumed must be Honey, hop into the yellow sports car beside them. He wasn’t sure what made him do it, but he rolled down the window, and yelled, “Bye Nova!” She didn’t respond. Suddenly, he felt the weight of the stares of all his teammates on him.

“So who’s she?” Danna finally asked.

“Chill, guys, I just met her at the club.”

It was Oscar who spoke up next. “I’m pretty sure he’s in love.” Adrian smacked him in the arm. “What?” he asked him.

“I’m not in love with a girl I met twenty minutes ago, guys, chill.”

“That’s good,” Ruby responded, “We’d be seriously worried if you were.” Adrian simply sighed and started the car. Considering he hadn’t drunk anything, he figured it would be best if he drove. No one argued with him.

When they pulled into the driveway of Oscar’s house, they saw his mom glaring at them through the kitchen window. Before, Adrian would have said that any punishment they would get wasn’t worth it. After meeting Nova, he wasn’t quite so sure.

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ramblinganthropologist · 7 years

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31 Days of Fanfic, Day 10

Topic: an AU Summary: I took Origins and shoved it into Mass Effect. But seriously, what are two young Wardens going to do when Duncan dies? All they have is a ship and each other against the big bad Blight. Sounds easy, huh? Word count: 682

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Space was so much bigger when it was viewed from the starboard windows.

Cahel could sit there for hours when he wasn't on duty, watching as stars and planets passed them by at faster than light speed. Sometimes, he swore he could reach out and brush up against them, as if it would do something other than shred his suit to pieces.

Ah, well. In some instances he was still a bit of a dreamer.

“Cherche said I'd find you here.”

The young Quarian turned, light reflecting off the blue visor of his suit's helmet. It was Alistair, eyes still red. He rubbed them on his sleeve as he sat down next to Cahel. Of course, he still sniffed back mucus as humans tended to do, so the effect was somewhat lost.

He was taking Duncan's loss hard. Hell, they all were. The Mabari had been his ship, after all, a Grey Warden vessel sent to gauge parts of space being sucked in by the Blight. Now, he was out in space somewhere, and they were on their own amidst the debris of hundreds of other vessels.

It wasn't a great start to their Warden careers, to put it bluntly.

“You going to be ok, Alistair?” Cahel always hated how his voice came out so strangely distorted thanks to his suit, but he was long since used to it. With it he could at least reach out and touch the man next to him on the arm without fear of up and dying. Sometimes, he wondered what he might feel like, though.

The human sniffed again. “Just... I miss him, you know? We're on our own now with these stupid treaties and this ship.”

At least he hadn't called the Mabari stupid. Since Cahel had been on Quarian vessels all his life, experiencing an Alliance one was something else entirely. It was quieter, probably because it was supposedly some super secret tech version. Only when you got close to the engine did it sound alive, which is probably why he spent a lot of time down there too.

But, Alistair had a point. They were kind of fucked. How they were supposed to convince various groups to sign up with a renegade Alliance vessel headed by two Quarians – one who hadn't even been on his pilgrimage, as people reminded him – and a human Warden to help them out was beyond him. Even if he ran the calculations, they boggled his mind.

Duncan hadn't been kidding when he had told them their mission was a tall order.

“Well, we've got everyone on the Mabari to help us, so at least there's that.” He shrugged his shoulders. “I mean, Sten's pretty handy in a fight, though I wouldn't send him on anything diplomatic.”

That got Alistair to laugh at least, at the thought of the silent Turian being sent to anything other than a firefight. The only place he preferred more than the armory was the airlock when Cherche was in it. Those two were downright embarrassing.

“That would be a nightmare, but hilarious to watch.” The human dried his tears and offered a wet smile. “Thanks, Cahel. I know it can't be easy, serving with a bunch of humans.”

Yeah, they tended to be a little on the thick and touchy side. It wasn't bad, just fucking weird.

“You smell funny, but you're alright.” The Quarian grinned under his mask while Alistair voiced his dissent. It gave him the chance to stand, turning his back towards the starboard window he had been watching. “Come on, let's go figure out our next move.”

They couldn't drift forever, after all. There was a Blight out there, eating up stars and planets and every other good thing in the galaxy. Their team might not have been ideal, but it was the one they had to work with. Somehow, if they were lucky, maybe they would survive it.

And maybe the Protheans would come out of deep sleep and tap dance for them. Honestly, he'd pay good credits for that.

#ramblinganthropologist's writing

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ghostbustermelanieking · 8 years

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fic masterlist

prompted by a request and a need for organization, here’s a masterlist of all the (x-files) fic i’ve done

multichapter

the fountain ** (msr, casefic, hurt/comfort angst, tithonus/detour casefile, canon divergence after milagro, wc: 50k)

When Mulder is forced to confront Scully's immortality in the wake of the Padgett case, he can see only one solution: to search for the Fountain of Youth to either look for a way to get rid of it or find a way to keep her from being alone. When Scully is assigned to a serial killer case in the same area as the alleged Fountain, Mulder tags along in an attempt to help her and find the Fountain at the same time.

Months later, Mulder has been missing for months and Scully is left only with the leads he was searching for. When a new lead pops up, she departs to search for her partner and to discover what happened before he disappeared six months earlier.

locking out the ghosts ** (msr, s5 fic: emily, kitsunegari, kill switch, bad blood, patient x, the red and the black, all souls, the pine bluff variant, and folie a deux, wc: 62k)

Post-Emily arc, an emotionally vulnerable Scully breaks off the incredibly new relationship she and Mulder have recently been engaged in. As the season moves forward, how do they cope with this new development in their relationship, and how do the stressful situations their job puts them in affect this?

polaroid (william, msr, van de kamps, s11 spec, wip, 5/?)

The aftermath of William's meeting with Mulder and Scully.

half-light*** (msr, s10 au/s1 au, rewrite of the original, wc: 74k)

Mulder and Scully get a second chance.

snow in april (casefile, deadalive au, msr, wc: 48k)

Dealing with the fallout from Mulder's return, Mulder and Scully find themselves in the midst of a strange case in a small town.

the unspeakable fear of things **** (msr, emily, s5-6 au, wc: 41k)

Emily Sim is cured by mysterious circumstances, deemed a miracle by the doctors.

starless and shadow (msr, millennium au, post col, wc: 17k)

The world didn’t end. But what if it did?

series

william au

relent (scully, william scully, 9x16: william au, wc: 1k)

Scully decides not to give up her son.

silent conversations (william scully, msr, s9/iwtb/s10 au, wc: 10k)

Inspired by the promos for 11x05: Ghouli/the promo blog for Ghouli, ghouli.net: What if a clairvoyant William had grown up with Mulder and Scully?

noises echoing (william scully, msr, s11 au, wc: 16k)

In the wake of their visions of the apocalypse, Mulder, and Scully must confront the fact that people are looking for their son.

not out loud (mulder, william scully, msr, vignette, wc: 6k)

Seven times Mulder communicated (telepathically) with his son.

half-light au

*** half-light (msr, s10 au/s1 au, rewrite of the original, wc: 74k)

Mulder and Scully get a second chance.

miraculous (msr, william, kidfic fluff, wc: 4k)

It feels too familiar.

(Meeting William for the first time. Again.)

luminosity (msr, william, new kid, kidfic fluff, wc: 3k)

They find out when she has another nosebleed.

emily au

**** the unspeakable fear of things (msr, emily, s5-6 au, wc: 41k)

Emily Sim is cured by mysterious circumstances, deemed a miracle by the doctors.

the truth we both know (msr, emily, william, s9 au, wc: 19k)

Scully deals with newly single parenthood and the fall out from Mulder going on the run.

Christmas Ficlets (msr, emily, william, wc: 12k)

series of Christmas ficlets set post-ufot

x files rewatch series - wip, series of unrelated stories i write as i make my way through txf again

oregon rain (msr ust, pilot, awkward bonding, wc: 3k)

March 8, 1993, a conversation in a hotel room.

unspoken rules (msr, kissing, pilot, squeeze, the jersey devil, ice, beyond the sea, wc: 7k)

Five times Mulder and Scully kissed and never talked about it, and one time they didn’t.

the progression (and regression) of first names (msr ust, scully-centered, s1, wc: 5k)

Dana and Scully, she thinks, are two separate people, and he only knows the Scully part of her. She doesn’t know which part she likes better, but she likes it when he calls her Scully.

drifting (msr-ust, maggie scully, melissa scully, one breath post ep, wc: 5k)

Scully deals with the aftermath of her return in One Breath.

day after tomorrow (msr, s2, firewalker au, wc: 3k)

She almost died a few weeks ago. But she is here, alive. And her partner has kissed her.

forty-yard line (msr ust, s2, irresistible au, wc: 1k)

Mulder and Scully make it to that football game.

november 27, 1973 (samantha mulder, fox mulder, pre-series au, s2 au, wc: 6k)

Five things that could’ve happened to Samantha Mulder.

fate (melissa scully, dana scully, pre-series, s3, paper clip post ep, wc: 3k)

Thirty-two years of sisterhood sounds like forever, she thinks, but is is not enough.

monster dog (msr ust, queequeg, s3, post eps)

Fox Mulder and his unlikely rivalry with a Pomeranian.

band-aids and goddamn cats (msr, au, s3, teso dos bichos missing scene, wc: 1k)

Mulder helps Scully clean up from her cat scratches.

a roll of stars and fade to black (msr, s4, tfwid au, wc: 10k)

A rewrite of "The Field Where I Died".

anchor (msr ust, s4, cancer arc, memento mori au)

AU where Mulder stays with Scully during Memento Mori.

everything changes but the sea (csm, mulder family, pre-xf, s4)

He’d never once considered being a father. (extended backstory on CSM)

roaring like the ocean (msr ust, angst. cancer arc, elegy/demons/gethsmane/redux i, wc: 11k)

Scully deals with her worsening cancer as tensions run high between her and Mulder.

old pennies (msr ust, angst, kistunegari post ep, wc: 1k)

** locking out the ghosts (msr, s5 fic: emily, kitsunegari, kill switch, bad blood, patient x, the red and the black, all souls, the pine bluff variant, and folie a deux, wc: 62k)

renegade (diana fowley, diana/mulder, pre-xf, the end, wc: 2k)

Why Diana Fowley went over to the other side.

flights (msr ust, fight the future, wc: 3k)

The flights Mulder and Scully took during Fight the Future.

merry little christmas (msr ust, how the ghosts stole christmas au, wc: 3k)

A How the Ghosts Stole Christmas AU: what if Mulder hadn’t been alone for Christmas?

reconsideration (msr ust, mentions of diana/mulder, the beginning, triangle, dreamland, the rain king, tithonus, one son, arcadia, milagro, the unnatural, field trip, wc: 6k)

Times Mulder and Scully reconsidered the status of their relationship.

** the fountain (msr, casefic, hurt/comfort angst, tithonus/detour casefile, canon divergence after milagro, wc: 50k)

auld acquaintance (msr ust to rst, post amor fati, per manumflashbacks, millennium, wc: 7k)

In the wake of Mulder's recovery after Amor Fati, Scully asks Mulder for a favor as they begin to grow closer.

the praxis of a water bed (among others) (msr, vignette, rush, the goldberg variation, orison, the amazing maleeni, signs and wonders, wc: 4k)

Five of the first times Scully woke up in Mulder's bed.

california winter (fox mulder, teena mulder, cassandra spender, samantha mulder, jeffrey spender, pre-xf, mytharc from one son/sein und zeit/closure, wc: 12k)

Fox and Samantha Mulder, brother and sister, disappeared from their homes on November 27, 1973.

(A shift in the events of Samantha's abduction leads to a very different outcome.)

encephalon (msr, s7 fic, au where m&s actually deal with mulder’s stupid brain disease: all things, brand x, hollywood a.d., je souhaite, requiem, wc: 18k)

AU where Mulder tells Scully that he is dying in season 7 and the situation is dealt with accordingly.

whispering images (emily sim, msr, early season 8 au, mytharc from within/without, this is not happening, emily, references toinvocation and per manum, wc: 14k)

During his abduction, Mulder realizes that Scully’s daughter, Emily, is still alive.

ashes and dust (msr, post mulder’s abduction, deadalive/three words, wc: 21k)

The days following Mulder’s resurrection.

here (msr, baby fic, s8: roadrunners, deadalive, empedocles, vienen, existence, wc: 4k)

Four times Mulder or Scully talked to their baby, and one time they both did.

whirlwind (msr, william, s9 au: providence and provenance, wc: 13k)

AU where Mulder comes home during Providence and helps Scully search for their son.

relinquo (doggett and reyes, post the truth, release, william, john doe, 4-d, msii, wc: 6k)

How Doggett and Reyes left the X-Files.

the definitions of home (msr, post the truth, on the run, wc: 9k)

Mulder and Scully, on the road.

melting snow (msr, iwtb missing scene, wc: 2k)

In the wake of the events of I Want To Believe, Scully reflects.

shatter on impact (msr, pre-msi, iwtb, break-up fic, angst, wc: 9k)

An examination of the reasons Scully left Mulder before season 10.

one/two/three shots

5/20/19 (jackson van de kamp, baby #3, msr, post s11)

Jackson and his first birthday spent with Mulder and Scully.

voyage to norfolk (jackson van de kamp, msr, baby #3, post s11)

Jackson takes his new sort-of family back to the place he grew up.

under the weather (jackson van de kamp, msr, baby #3, post s11)

Prompt: would you ever consider writing fic where william is sick with a cold or stomachbug and scully has to take care of him? maybe set somewhere post season 11?

bearing north (msr, s11: between rm9 and nothing lasts forever, hurt/comfort)

Prompt: "I’m so disappointed by the lack of hurt/comfort this season. Could you please fix it a little?"

proelium (msr, jackson van de kamp, post my struggle iv resolution)

Post finale: Mulder and Scully connect with their son in an unconventional way.

galaxies (msr, william scully, existence post ep, kid fic)

He doesn’t hold his son for the first four days of his life.

hypnagogia (jackson van de kamp, msr, post ghouli [au??])

Prompt: post-ghouli. william knows scully is his birth mom, but when/how does he figure out mulder is his birth dad? or does he already know?

things unhidden (jackson van de kamp, msr, ghouli au)

What if Jackson hadn’t hidden from Mulder and Scully?

secundus (msr, pre-iwtb, inspired by plus one)

Mulder and Scully discuss wanting more kids.

sofas and ikea (msr, au/written mid s11, plus one, this)

How Scully finds her way home.

shadow demon (msr, casefile, s11 spec)

Mulder and Scully find themselves wrapped up in an unexpected case at a Halloween carnival when a teenage boy asks for their help.

all hallow's eve (msr ust, s1, ghost in the machine fic, halloween)

candy corn in the basement office on halloween night

joy to the world (msr, william, susanne modeski, van de kamps, post-the truth)

Mulder and Scully get William back.

repeat the sounding joy (joy to the world sequel, msr, william, christmas fluff)

Christmas with Mulder and Scully and William.

if the dead can hear the living (2/2, msr, gethsemane au)

“It him?” the detective asks, and she says, “Yeah,” and leaves the room on wobbly legs.

—

“And what about my partner?” Mulder hisses. The alien pauses before continuing with some kind of self-satisfaction. “Dana Scully died last night at Trinity Hospital.”

writer’s pen (csm, meta bullshit)

what if the x files was a series of sci-fi novels written by the cigarette smoking man, and what if the cigarette smoking man wasn’t a shadowy villain but instead a petty writer who cast the people in his lives in his stories?

a blanket, the lights, and the sky (msr, college au)

two college students, truth or dare, and a light in the sky.

under the stars (minimal fate required) (msr, aus)

or: ways mulder and scully could’ve been happy

hold your breath so you don’t say i love you (msr, vignette)

46. things you said when you kissed me goodnight, along the different seasons

where the love light gleams (emily, william, au, on the run)

Emily and William escape the air base where they’ve spent their entire lives, and set out in search of their family.

motions of time (msr, cancer arc au)

He kisses her in the hallway of the hospital under the washed out lights: quickly, with his hands in her hair.

inches between them (msr, deadalive-empedocles)

It’s taken her nearly eight years to believe in the impossible, and it’s still easy to revert to old habits. She believed for Mulder when it seemed vital, when it was imperative that if he couldn’t be there that someone be there to fill his role in his life’s work, to take his place, but she didn’t believe when it really was vital. She never imagined him coming back from the dead, always thought it was impossible. If she ever imagined them raising the baby together, she imagined a reality where he never left and her life didn’t crumble to dust.

car games (scully, william, post-s9 au)

He gets bored on long car rides, restless, tapping his sneakered foot against the center console rhythmically. There is a succession of car games, and he gets tired of them fast. “Who wants to count cars, Mom?” he whines, just a little. “That’s boring.”

another year (msr)

Mulder celebrates Scully’s birthday vs Scully celebrates Mulder’s birthday.

date of birth (william, van de kamps)

Five of William Van de Kamp’s birthdays.

3:55 (scully, pilot au)

His eyes are something strange, almost of… desperation as he looks down at her. Like he’s known her for a thousand years. Dana shifts her weight uncomfortably. The man clears his throat, and says, “Yeah, uh, don’t take you new assignment.”

read it beginning to end (msr)

He stays up late reading Moby-Dick by lamplight, and lays it all out for her at the end of a chapter in pencil.

reunions (and an orange painted sky) (msr, william, s10/s11 spec)

Mulder grins wider in response, tightening his arms around her. “Scully, I think there’s someone you should meet.”

second step (msr ust, s2)

The first step is the one that reminds her that she is alive. The first step was her first year with Mulder, caught up in the excitement of it all. The second step is harder - but, she reminds herself, the second step is worth it.

smoke and mirrors (msr)

What’s your truth, she thinks idly, and is surprised to find that she wants to know the answer.

miles away (for xfilesrevisited)

It’s Christmas, and Scully won’t come downstairs.

unfinished crossover with stranger things

“Mr. Mulder, I am fascinated with your work on the X-Files,” Dustin says excitedly. “I’m sorry I thought you were a murderer.”

“That’s okay, most do.” He shrugs. “I’m sorry for my appearance, but I wasn’t expecting guests.” He shoots a look at Emily.

“It’s like I said, Mulder, that over there is Eleven, and she’s the one who’s like William.”

“She came from a bad place, and her nose bleeds when she does the thing,” William says, swinging her hand.

“And she’s going to help the guys find Will, you know, that missing kid, but she needs a place to stay,” Emily says.

The man is looking at her. Mike, Lucas, and Dustin are clustered together, staring at them. The man steps closer and offers his hand. “Hi, Eleven,” he says quietly. “I’m Mulder.”

Eleven takes his hand with her free one and shakes it. “Hi,” she says softly.

the werewolf theory (au comedy-ish thing)

Mulder and Scully solve a case as a married couple. (And it’d be great if everyone could let the last names thing go.)

“how i met your mother” au 1, 2, 3 (schmoopie family stuff)

basically a happy family au

a pale circle of light (post-the truth)

“Scully!” he calls after her. She keeps walking without looking back, chin firmly set.

drabbles

prompt: scully’s thoughts during the mosquito bites scene /// prompt: mulder remembers their encounter in the pilot during s7

prompt: mulder and scully are trapped in a freezer (s6)

prompt: mulder and scully annoying skinner

i love you: when we lay together on the fresh spring grass (iwtb era)

i love you: muffled, from the other side of the door (emily arc)

things you said that i wasn’t meant to hear (cancer arc)

things you said on the phone at 4 am (s7)

things you said when you were drunk (abduction arc)

things you said that made me feel real (cancer arc, synchrony)

34) things you said in your sleep/ 59) things you said after we fell in love (post cancer arc)

things you said while i cried in your arms (unruhe)

things you said in the dark (field trip)

things you said when no one else was around/things you were afraid to say (ftf)

things you said in the spur of the moment (post-cancer arc au)

prompt: scully tells melissa she’s pregnant

prompt: mulder and maggie in the hospital in essence

prompt: mulder’s missing and scully gets emotional when she finds him

prompt: leaves (mulder, scully, and william on the run)

post-one breath thanksgiving (au)

prompt: scully’s chip

prompt: hug (pusher)

prompt: toes (msr, william)

prompt: fic based off secret love song (s2, abduction arc)

prompt: woman, socks, locker, abandoned storage unit (mulder, scully, samantha)

prompt: trust no 1 au

“Do I make you happy?”/// “That’s why I love you.”/// “Let’s just lay here a little longer.” (s10)

“I don’t trust you.” /// “I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to fall asleep on you.” (william, scully, s11 spec)

“I’m not good with words.” (per manum)

prompt: halloween party and ghostbusting

prompt: first “i love you”s

episode prompt: irresistible

episode prompt: post-modern prometheus

episode prompt: genderbender

prompt: proposal

“I need you to pretend we’re dating…” - “It’s only one night, we’ll just share the bed.” - “Don’t panic but I think we might have accidentally gotten married…”

“I think I’m in love with you and I’m terrified.” (my struggle)

“Marry me?” - “I thought you were dead.” (this is not happening au)

“Have you lost your damn mind!?” (mini casefile)

“I was so alone… and then I met you.” (babyfic)

prompt: baby as a term of endearment (arcadia)

“You can’t die. Please don’t die.” (redux ii/this is not happening)

headcanons/short fics

headcanon: william's pretty excited about the fact that he's getting a little sister

headcanon: Jackson takes his little sister on long road trips during the summer

Mulder and Scully are married and domestic af

after Mulder and Scully's demise, Jackson takes custody of his little sister, and uses the X-Files to tell her about them

"You really felt the need to do THAT in front of my brother?"

"i haven't been to a planetarium since i was eleven, mulder."

"The baby kicked the soap right off my belly"

"You're sure it's not twins in there?"

"Okay, that was pretty funny wasn't it?"

Mulder was shocked when a man answered Scully's door practically naked.

“She opened her mouth to scream, but nothing came out, just empty hollow silence”

"Jackson?"

"I don't want to live another second without knowing what it feels like to kiss you"

They locked eyes from across the room, each ready to act on the other's signal.

“Why the fuck you wear that?”

“Damn it, Mulder, I said no”

Suddenly headlights wash through the windows of the empty bedroom.

“You’re lucky that wasn’t Bill.”

“Mulder? Help!”

“Shit, I forgot the eggs”

“How could you even ask me that?”

“Mommy? Mommy??”

“Did you feel that?!”

"We are required for this case to go for a horseback riding trip."

“Is that a birthmark, Scully?”

“Why did you lie to me?”

"I mean -- Gatsby didn't really love HER, the real Daisy; he was obsessed with her, which is a different thing entirely."

“What do you say to that, Scully?”

She looks down at the paper in her hands.

“Your son was just arrested.”

season 7 hcs

season 1 hcs

arrival au

msr + astronauts/space opera au

crossover with castle

au where mulder and scully were together [romantically] since like season 3 or 4 but told no one bc they were fully aware of a betting pool going to see when theyd get together and they didnt want skinner to win

snowflakes

future

guacamole

scully wears a skull sweatshirt on halloween

#ugh some of this stuff is really old and embarrassing #and jesus i've been writing fic for over a year #wow #long post tw #xf fanfic #i wrote this

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