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mrs-elsie-barnes · 7 months

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5 Times There Was Only One Bed (and the one time there were two beds) | Bucky x Reader | One Shot - 4.7k

Whether it's on a mission, a work event or a holiday, your sleeping arrangements never seem to work out as planned. It doesn't really bother you until...it does. Confronted with a night sleeping apart, you and Bucky finally talk.

Warnings: 18+ for language, suggestive situations and sexism (but not from our Bucky he would never). Also rated F for fluffy and S for snuggling.

Written for the @bucks-and-noble Valentrope event - "there was only on bed" the reigning champion of tropes!

Divider by @firefly-graphics & @reveriesources

Masterlist | Bucky Barnes Fics

Your first mission with Bucky Barnes went really well, until it didn’t.

After successfully destroying an underground Hydra base you’d returned to your transport in a less than desirable state.

“Fuck, four flats.” You huffed, poking the tyre with the toe of your tactical boot.

“Fuel line’s been cut.” Bucky muttered from the front, “lucky they didn’t torch it.”

Bucky quietly rubbed a gloved hand over his face, before looking up at the admittedly stunning night sky, he seemed to study it for a moment before making a quarter turn to his left and climbing up a ridge of sandy rock. As if dazed you followed him. You could see for miles thanks to the glow of a full moon, the stars dense and glittering above you both. It was almost romantic, if you didn’t have blood on your cheek and an empty gun on your hip.

Bucky still looked like he could sweep you off your feet though, with his structured tactical vest making his broad shoulders look even wider, his wind swept hair giving him the look of a romantic hero on the front of a paperback, especially with one foot perched on the outcrop of rock above you.

“Let’s go.” He pointed towards a glow rising from beyond the horizon and you’d started walking, doing your best to keep up with his long strides. You could see the motel, how far could it really be.

As soon as you climbed down the motel vanished and the reality of your trek set in.

Around hour two Bucky slowed his pace to allow you to catch up. He didn’t speak much, just what was necessary, and sometimes a hello when he saw you around the compound. But he struck you as shy, rather than cruel or rude. He had checked on you after the mission brief two days ago to make sure you were happy with the plans and, when you were left at the drop off zone, had given you a few of his spare rounds.

You were starting to flag, your steps faltering in the dust and your fingers frozen. Without the sun the desert was so cold the tips of your ears felt like they’d fallen off. Bucky slowed too, cracking a heat pack and handing it over, swapping it for your pack.

“Thank you,” you whispered, teeth chattering.

He didn’t say anything, just gave you a tight smile and turned back towards the motel, growing closer with each step.

Three hours after you’d discovered the flat tyre, you fell through the door of the dingy motel room, exhausted, cold and starving, only to be met with the sight of one queen size bed and a single chair by the window.

“I’m gonna sleep,” you slurred, unable to manage more than zipping off your tactical vest. You fell onto your back and tried to toe off your boots but they were too tight. Your eyes slid shut and you felt the sensation of Bucky sitting on the other side of the thin mattress, making you roll towards him slightly. His weight shifted and settled, the warmth of his body behind yours comforting after everything you’d seen that evening.

He smelt nice too, despite the blood and sweat and gunpowder, he smelt like sandalwood and the desert air. It was all you could think of as you drifted into a deep sleep, how much you wanted to press your face into his back and breathe him in.

The next morning you woke to find Bucky already showered and dressed, pushing his damp hair back from his face and brushing his teeth while he called Torres for new exit plans.

Your boots and socks were off, arranged neatly by the door, a coffee steaming on the bedside table.

Despite all the changes a new team had brought, Bucky liked working with you. You were quiet too and didn’t mind when he was silent for almost a whole mission. You were efficient and skilled, but empathetic, always stopping during the fall out to ensure the team were together and protecting civilians whenever you could.

So it was no surprise to him when you offered to share the bed at the hotel. Sam and Joaquín had long since retired to their room, but you’d both stayed at the hotel bar, silently emptying a bottle of red wine while Bucky continued his 100 Books to Read Before You Die list and you scrolled through your phone, catching up on everything you’d missed during the five day - “phone’s off, and yes, I mean you Agent” - mission.

As soon as you retired to the room you knew there’d been a mistake.

“Ah, shit.” You’d dropped your bag to the floor by the door and Bucky had almost walked into your back, peering over your shoulder at the very neatly made double bed. The only bed.

“Don’t worry, I’ll take the couch.” Bucky had sighed, resigned to a night of lumpy, uncomfortable sleep.

“There isn’t one.” You pushed your bag further into the room with your foot and Bucky brushed past to survey the space.

“The floor then.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“I’m not.”

“You’re not sleeping on the floor, the bed’s big enough for two, we can share.”

You’d said it with such easy grace that he’d felt almost insulted that his chivalrous offer was so easily deflected. Then you’d returned from the bathroom smelling like mint and almond oil, your loose pyjamas hanging off one shoulder and just like that, he gave in.

By the time he’d change and brushed his teeth you were already asleep, holding a pillow close to your chest with your leg well over onto his side of the bed. Carefully he moved you back to your side and slid under the cool sheet next to you.

He woke first the next morning to find you still attempting to occupy the majority of the bed, your face relaxed and mouth slightly open. Bucky indulged in a moment of quiet comfort before getting up. You wouldn’t want him staring at you, you’d be embarrassed that you were trying to cuddle him and it’d ruin the fragile bond you were forming with each mission.

By 9am you were both making fun of Joaquín’s terrible hotel bookings over pancakes and coffee.

“Why can’t we just ask for directions?”

“Are you seriously asking me that?”

“Yes?”

“Because we just crossed a border illegally, we have no papers, no passports, we’re lying low.”

“They’re hardly going to ask to see our passports, Bucky.” You sighed, hitching your bag higher on your back.

You’d been walking since 5am that morning, crossing through a forest trail to avoid borders and rendezvous with Torres in a village that should have been a few miles away so that you could evac together.

5am seemed a long time ago now that the sun was setting. You’d stopped briefly to heat up a can of beans, a “late lunch, early dinner” Bucky had called it, smiling at you over the steaming mess tin you were sharing.

The scalding heat had dissipated now though and you were tired. The memory of his hand touching yours as you ate still lingering.

“We’re not going to find him tonight, we should stop.” Bucky suggested, “I’ll find a good place to camp.”

Suddenly you were grateful that Mr Overprepared had packed a tent.

“Good idea.” You agreed, rubbing your hands together.

“Well, I will be, you didn’t bring a tent, did you?” He said, walking deeper into the woods, running his foot over the ground, looking for somewhere flat.

Your heart sank, he was right, you’d laughed at him when he’d attached it to his already full pack and he’d said you’d regret it, a teasing look in his eye. Well. You were regretting it. It had started raining a few minutes before, gentle rain drops that got heavy in each gap between the canopy. You had no doubt it’d be heavier soon though, and with the sun setting you didn’t relish the idea of being wet and cold out in the dark.

Bucky stopped and turned, lowering his pack to the floor between two large trunked trees and those twinkling eyes made butterflies take flight in the pit of your stomach. A boyish grin crossed his face as he got to work.

Ten minutes later and the tent was up, strung between the trees and extra protected with some fallen foliage.

Bucky unlaced his boots and placed them between the inner and outer tent before climbing in, when you didn’t follow he poked his head back around the flap of the tent, patting the unrolled sleeping bag next to him.

“C’mon, you really think I’d make you sleep out there?” He was almost laughing, and the sound was so welcome, so stupidly content despite your situation, you could barely stand it.

You squeezed in, using the inner fleece layer from your coat as a blanket. Bucky lifted the side of his sleeping bag.

“C’mon,” he mumbled, eyes already closed, when you hesitated he tugged you closer until you were tucked against his chest. He rearranged your coats on top of you both until you could feel your fingers again. “Warmer?”

“Yeah, thanks, Bucky.”

He didn’t respond, his breathing heavy and even, beneath his sweater you could hear the steady thump of his heart as it lulled you to sleep in his arms.

Bucky hated these stupid events, he’d only been persuaded to come because you’d done those big round puppy dog eyes and said it’d be no fun without him. Joaquín had asked too and, although Sam had joked that it’d be more fun without ‘Mr Grumpy’, Bucky knew he’d only been teasing.

But it was you that had convinced him. It was those eyes, the way your voice had gone up a little and you’d pouted in that silly way you did when Joaquín took the last doughnut at mission briefings. He couldn’t resist. And he had no idea what to do about it.

Behind him he could hear another team talking about you, how they didn't understand why you were always working with ‘that asshole Barnes’ so much.

In the anonymous dark they joked about you, about him, as if you were a reward for a guard dog. A babysitter for his more violent tendencies. Worse, disgusting, accusations about how you'd come by your place in the team. He suddenly missed his mother, she'd have washed their mouths out with soap.

He felt sick.

Bucky took a long swig from his beer and chased it with a shot of whisky, anything to stop his teeth from grinding.

They were wrong on so many counts. You were skilled and fearless, soft and fierce at all the right moments. But you didn't care about him, or Sam or Joaquín for that matter. Not in the vile, disrespectful way those men imagined. You didn’t men like them - him - messy, unpredictable, unstable. You didn’t really need anyone.

But Bucky - he took another swig, trying to stop the swirling feeling in his chest - he cared for you. He couldn't stop thinking about you. And as angry as he was at what he heard, he was equally ashamed for wishing that you did want him.

He’d been watching you dance with Joaquín and one of your other agent friends for more than an hour now. Your body swaying and rippling in time to the music, your dress ghosting over your hips in a way that made his mouth dry. It was one thing to work with you in army fatigues or go to meetings with you in your casual jeans - the stealth suit had been really pushing his patience recently so he didn't want to think about it - but he could at least keep himself under control while your skin was covered. Then you arrived wearing this dress. The neckline alone made him want to sink to his knees in front of you.

Joaquín danced away with your friend, you winked at the lieutenant and smacked his ass as he passed - you were definitely drunk.

Alone you swayed to the music, still in your own world.

“She’s so fucking drunk -”

“Absolute embarrassment -”

“Can’t believe they let her in -”

Bucky slammed his drink down on the bar top and grabbed his leather jacket, stalking across the dancefloor like a shadow, the lights skimming over him.

You were facing away from him and he couldn’t resist, his hands finding your waist so naturally, his body melting into yours, matching the slow roll of your hips so he could lean into your ear.

“I think it’s time to go,” he whisper-shouted above the pounding music.

“Bucky!” You exclaimed, completely ignoring his suggestion, “dance with me!”

You span in his hands, leaning up and into him, your hands around his neck, twisting into his hair. The little tug you gave sent pleasure shooting down his spine. God he was weak, his body moved without his say so, slipping a leg between yours and - fuck - you were grinding against him. He was lost.

The song ended, fading into the next as the lights flickered and he regained enough of his faculties to remember you were drunk, very drunk.

“C’mon, doll, let’s go, I’ll get you some water-”

“You still here, sweetheart? Don’t you think you’ve embarrassed yourself enough.”

Was he still here? Fucking asshole.

Bucky rounded on him, keeping you close with a hand around your waist.

“You boys having a good night?” You grinned, unable to hear their cruel words over the music.

You were just so - good, so kind, even when these pricks were trying to tear you down, your first instinct was to be friendly - he couldn’t stand it.

“I said -” the agent grinned, dipping down, placing his hands on his knees and levelling his face with yours, that patronising glint in his eyes, “are you still fucking here you stupid bitch?”

Bucky saw red, tucking you under his left arm, pushing you behind his back as he had so many times during missions, and smashing his right straight into the agent’s nose.

“Didn’t your Ma teach you to speak to ladies with respect?”

Blood dripped onto the dark dance floor, a circle forming as the other party goers backed away.

Bucky gave the man one last disapproving look and then his attention was solely focussed on you, leading you out past the crowd until you were outside in the freezing air. He draped his jacket around your shoulders and watched as you snuggled inside. Was he dreaming or did you inhale deeply when he did it?

“M’sorry, Buck.” You hiccupped, leaning into him, eyes half shut.

He took your weight gladly, “s’okay, you didn’t do anything wrong, it was those idiots in there.” With staggering steps you made it to the next street over and Bucky said nothing as he unlocked the door.

“Where are we?” You slurred, your ankles twisting in your heels with each step.

“My place, I thought you could sober up here while I call you a cab to get you back to your hotel.”

He settled you on the couch and tried to walk away, but there was a hand hooked in his belt loop.

“F’got you live in Neewww York,” you closed your eyes, resting your head against his hip as you continued to mumble about ‘the big apple’, he willed himself to breath deeply, he was struggling to keep his body under control.

“Yeah - what’s your hotel called?”

“You called me ‘doll’,” you giggled, your fingers closing around his belt.

“I did, sorry, it just slipped out. Your hotel?”

“Dun worry, I liked it - can I stay here? I sleep here.” You let go, only to curl up on the sofa, your dress sliding up your thighs.

“Sure.” He sighed.

Bucky scooped you up again and nudged the door to his bedroom open with his hip, the duvet was still rumpled from the night before. Another night of no sleep, at least it was because of you and not another nightmare. And now you were here, nose pressed into his chest, ready to sleep in his bed.

“Okay, I’ll be out here if you need me, g’night.”

“Stay.”

“I’ll be right outside if you need-”

“Stay.”

And it was those puppy dog eyes again, the pout, the voice, the hand on his belt.

Even though he knew you’d sleep like a log, hogging his duvet and encroaching on his space, even though he knew you’d be embarrassed in the morning, probably hungover as hell. Even though, come the morning, he was right. He still had the best nights sleep he’d ever had since he bought the place.

You hadn’t been this relaxed in a long time, you were sure if you stood up you’d simply melt into a puddle. Sun warm skin, the buzz of a few too many afternoon beers in your system and the sound of laughter as Sam, Joaquín and Bucky continued to try and catch a single fish had lulled you into a half sleep, dozing on the deck of the Paul & Darlene

“Hey, you want another beer, doll?”

Bucky’s voice drifted over to you and you cracked one eye open. He’d unbuttoned his shirt half way down his chest, the white cotton sticking to his sweaty, sunkissed skin. He hadn’t been able to drop the nickname since he'd had to rescue you at the gala. Although you'd done your best to keep yourself away. The way his eyes burned into you when he turned your way, the memory of his body imprinted into yours, his leg pressing against you, the shadow of a hardness that made your mouth water.

He'd been the perfect gentleman, of course. Had made sure you were safe and comfortable, even escorted you back to your hotel in the morning after a huge home cooked breakfast.

He was a gent. And you were an embarrassment. It ate away at you until you couldn't even look at him.

“Hmm?”

“Beer?” He asked again, holding out the bottle, the cap already popped off.

“Uh, yeah, thanks.”

He flopped down beside you on the deck, the last of the day fading beyond the horizon and leaving you bobbing in the inky abyss where the sky met the water.

“You feeling okay?” He took a swig and you watched the condensation on the bottle trickle over his fingers.

“Oh, yeah, fine.”

“You look dazed, that's all, don't want you getting sunstroke on us.”

Bucky looked genuinely concerned and you figured, from the sudden sick feeling inside, that maybe your heart had skipped a few beats or flipped over or something.

“Uh -” Fuck, did he have to leave his shirt open like that? He asked a question, what was it?

“Are you okay?” He used the back of his right hand and placed it against your forehead, “you feel really hot. Maybe you do have sun stroke.”

“I’m fine, honestly.” You shrugged him off, but went looking for a bottle of water anyway.

As the boat made its way back to the dock you watched the lights of Sarah’s house flicker on in the distance. Sam had invited the three of you to stay, taking up all of Sarah’s space and the room on the boat, while her and the boys went into the city for the night. It was a generous offer, one that you couldn’t say no to after months of hard work without a break.

In the pitch dark you all stumbled back up the driveway, only to find Sarah on the porch.

“Sarah -” Sam jogged to reach her first, concern written on his brow.

“I’m alright, Sam, don’t fuss. It’s just Cass, ate too many beignets and threw up so I thought we should come home. He’s upstairs with AJ. Sorry we messed up your plans.”

Bucky took the suitcase from her hands, “it’s your home Sarah, you haven’t messed up anything.”

She threw an arm around his shoulders and hugged him sideways, a familiar gesture you’d seen her make before, but for some reason your tummy twisted, jealousy stirring.

“Means we’ll need some rooms back though, I know I said you could all stay but-”

A chorus of voices filled the air, refusing to let Sarah apologise, before you started to get organised.

“Well Cass needs his own bed, that’s a given.” You said, worried that the young boy might be ill as well as over excited about his food.

“Of course,” Joaquín agreed. “Sarah, you’re obviously taking your room too. We wouldn’t ask you to give that up. I’ll go on the couch in the sitting room.” He smiled.

You looked between your other two colleagues, but Bucky spoke first.

“Well if Torres’ taking the couch I’m not going to argue, I’d rather be in a bed even if it is on a boat.” He ruffled Joaquín’s hair affectionately and the younger man shoved at him.

Sam looked at you, “you can take my bed, if you want, I can change the sheets -”

“I’ll sleep on other sofa -”

“You’ll share with me, right doll?”

The three of you spoke at once, and Sarah raised her eyebrows then her hands before opening the front door, “I’ll be in bed, you kids figure this out yourself.”

“Bucky -” Sam started.

“Sam - we’ve shared before,” there was a glimmer of hope that glowed inside of you when Bucky stepped closer, his shirt fluttering open again in the breeze, revealing his toned chest and that dusting of dark hair, creeping under the buckle of his jeans. “Besides, wouldn’t be the first time you’ve made us share, would it?” Bucky joked, nudging Sam as they went to collect more blankets and bedding, “what about that hotel-”

His voice faded until all you could hear were the crickets in the distance, you’d forgotten about Joaquín until he walked past, turning backwards at the last moment so he could see you again, “if you don’t want to share with Barnes…” he let the offer hang in the air and you were torn.

Really, you should protest and ask for your own space. But then you’d missed the sound of his steady breathing beside you, the weight and warmth of him when he turned over into your space. In fact you’d missed him completely, even if you’d been avoiding him on purpose.

Secretly you hoped the bedroom on the boat would be cooler now the sun had gone down, perhaps he’d hold you like he did while you were camping.

Sam let you back onto the boat, making sure you had enough blankets for two distinct sleeping arrangements if you wanted.

Bucky slid into the cool cotton sheets in only his boxers and, shyly, you followed. Expecting to sleep alone you’d packed shorts and a vest, revealing more than you really wanted to considering he clearly didn’t return your interest.

Bucky kept politely to his side of the bed, his arms awkwardly stiff at his side when he turned away from you. Unable to stop yourself you turned too, watching the strong line of his back relax as his breathing evened out.

The boat bobbed gently, lulling you to sleep. You were vaguely aware of a strong arm tugging you closer, the smell of Bucky’s shampoo and sun cream and the weight of a bed rising to meet you.

Everything went perfectly, again, until it didn’t.

Intelligence? Secured. Exit? Executed to perfection. Adrenaline fueled burger stop where Bucky wiped a drop of sauce from your lips exactly as you planned? Complete. Motel booking? Perfect?

You and Bucky stared at the two motel beds.

In the entire time you’d been working together you’d never really managed it. There were either no rooms, the room was wrong or there was no room at all, just whatever you could find. And now there were two beds and you felt sick and your head hurt and after everything you’d seen and done today the last thing you wanted to do was sleep alone.

“Doll?” Bucky placed a hand on the small of your back and reality came screeching to a halt around you.

“Sorry, Buck, I must be really tired, I’m going to shower and get in bed. Do you mind if I go first?” You were already half to the bathroom, the zip down on your tac suit, were you imagining Bucky’s eyes dropping down to where your skin was revealed?

“Of course, whatever you need, I’ll just be…here,”

After a perfunctory shower consisting of a dribble of hot water that quickly turned into a freezing cold torrent, you returned to the shared room.

Bucky hurried past, his body brushing against yours in the doorway, firm and muscular, yet you knew that being held by him was soft and warm. You tried not to feel too sad that there’d be no excuse for getting close to him again for the rest of your trip.

By the time he was finished you were tucked into bed, trying to read the paperback you’d found in the draw because the television signal was terrible.

He stood in the window, a shadow against the light filtering in through the thin material of the curtains, ruffling his wet hair with a towel, his sweatpants so at odds with the man who’d been by your side just a few hours before. This was a rare sight, one you were privileged to see.

Bucky tossed the towel onto the chair by the door and then sat on the end of the other bed, watching you read from the corner of his eye. You knew because the last three paragraphs had become a blur of words, your focus solely on Bucky.

“Maybe we should go to sleep, we’ve got a long drive tomorrow.”

“You’re right.”

You both slid down into bed, separately, and you’d never felt so alone.

In the darkness you could see the shape of him, facing the door with his hand tucked under his pillow, and somehow the darkness made you braver.

“Would it be weird if I said I missed you?” You whispered.

Bucky rolled over, but put his hand back under his pillow, no doubt he had something hidden under there, he usually did.

“I miss you too.”

You shuffled back, letting the sheets fall further down the bed, “I know you have your own space over there and you probably don’t want to be all cramped up with me, but if you wanted to share still -”

Bucky was out of his bed before you could finish, slipping under the sheets. He’d taken off his sweatpants before getting into bed, his legs bed warm against your own and you bit your lip, trying to focus on his face and not on his almost naked body just inches away.

“Hi.”

“Hi, doll.”

“You don’t have to keep calling me that.”

“What if I want to?”

He was so close, his breath minty when it ghosted over your lips, his nose touching yours, his long eyelashes making his crystal eyes look brighter.

“What if I missed you being in my bed? What if I always want to share with you?” He reached his hand out, cupping your cheek.

“You do?”

And then his lips were on yours, so soft, his tongue slipping past yours as you gasped. One cool metal hand and one callused, drawing you closer, a leg between your thighs, your bodies rolling together and - “oh, Bucky.” You sighed into his mouth, letting him tug you into him.

“I - I want that too -” you squeezed out between kisses, “I wanna always - always - be in your bed - I - I always hoped we had too.”

“You did?” He pulled back, stroking a thumb down your cheek and over your kiss bitten lips.

“Uh huh, I did,”

“You been sabotaging us this whole time, baby?” He laughed, his eyes sparkling.

“No,” you laughed too, turning your head to kiss the pad of his thumb, “maybe I should’ve though.”

“Maybe,” his hand left your face to cup the back of your neck, drawing you down for another languid kiss.

“How long?”

“How long, what?”

“How long have you wanted -” his question trailed off into another series of featherlight kisses.

“Since, ugh - Utah?” You offered shyly, embarrassed to admit that you’d been head over heels from the start.

With a groan he rolled you over, slipping his body between your open legs, his hips settling just right against your own. “Fuck,” he dropped his forehead to yours, “we could’ve been doing this the whole time.” He admitted, lifting his head to smile down at you.

“Well then I guess we have some making up to do,” you linked your hands behind his head, tangling your fingers in his hair.

“I guess we do, doll.”

#Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky fanfic #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes/reader #Bucky Barnes x female!Reader #Bucky Barnes/female reader #bucky x female reader #Bucky fluff #bucky

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drchucktingle · 7 months

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Dear Chuck, do you have any DM tips for a fellow world's greatest author, who is pretty new to DMing Dungeons and/or Dragons?

sure buckaroo as buckaroo DM for 33 years i have a few tips here you go

instead of obvious 'have fun' that everyone says (which is very important too) i will opt for this: make sure every encounter especially trot of combat is more than just ONE thing. if it is a battle against a flying manticore then put it on moving train. if it is chase put it during the town parade

sometimes combat is random but with an encounter that is more DESIGNED i always think of them as SET PIECES like from film. so maybe there is an underground lava temple but combat happens in room with levers that need to be held down to keep lava from rising, do players attack or hold lever? does each lever have a different lava speed value? does each lever have a lock with a different puzzle or key? trots like that

this also EVEN goes for just standard talks with characters they encounter. if talking to suspicious barkeep, give the barkeep TWO secrets but only one pertains to parties interests

so that is my advice, create encounters with at least two unique elements that create an unexpected cocktail for players

#dungeons and dragons #buckaroo lifestyle #chuck tingle

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yandere-sins · 3 months

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Can I request a reluctant reader taking care of a very sick yandere? Yandere can be any character of ur choice >.< tyia

Thanks for requesting! ^-^

»»———————— ♡ ————————««

"You're hurt..."

The stench of blood, dirt, and sulfur filled the air in the underground hideout as you climbed off your bed, the heavy metal around your ankles rattling when you moved. You watched as the silver-haired man collided with the wall before sinking to the floor, his body sparely illuminated but his hair shining brightly, giving away his position. Your gut churned with hesitance, with the instinctive need to avoid all evil—especially the one that had threatened and abducted you. But it had been so long since he left. So long that you've been stowed away in secret. You were, unfortunately, drawn to him like a moth to the light.

Even though you kept your distance from your captor, your words barely a whisper as if not to disturb the man sitting on the ground, holding the side of his stomach, Calcharo flinched at the sound of your voice, cranking his head back to look at you. His gaze was unreadable, his whole face a mask free of emotions. But judging by the pool of blood collecting next to him, the wound must have hurt, even if he showed no signs of it.

"I promised I'd be back—" he mumbled as a ripple of tension tightened his muscles, everything in him readying his body to get up from his spot. As if greeting you properly was needed at that moment. But with his teeth bared, the gaping wound stole all of his strength, making him sack back to the dusty ground with a muffled groan.

"Give me a moment. It'll heal."

Curiosity killed the cat as you stretched your neck, bile rising to the top of your throat at the nasty sight of the gash. Even Calcharo's big hands—that you remembered so vividly squeezing and pulling at your body—weren't enough to cover the wound completely, blood soaking all of his clothes and staining the floor. Wasn't there medicine for that kind of injury? Although, seeing a doctor would probably be more appropriate. If it wasn't for the awkward situation you were in, you'd have freaked out at even the thought of seeing someone so badly injured, yet all you could do was stand in one spot, a good five steps out of his reach.

Even when you fiddled with your hands, wrenching and holding them, you were less anxious, knowing he wasn't in the condition to harass you that day. He'd been gone for a while, leaving you to your own devices and the evergrowing boredom. But you were still undecided if you preferred him being back and constantly hovering over you, watching and testing your reactions, or the loneliness and isolation you experienced, chained up and hidden away who-knew-where when he was gone. Both were unideal; both were destructive behavior on his part. You didn't have much choice in it, but him coming back severely injured was a situation you hadn't grown accustomed to yet.

"Is there anything I can do to help?"

His head jerked upwards, eyes narrowing at you suspiciously. Yeah... you surprised yourself, too. You weren't the type to offer help, especially not to him. You were his captive, nothing more, nothing less.

"Or not..." Hands falling to your side, you fiddled with the seam of your shirt instead, avoiding his gaze as always. To Calcharo, you were an object to be observed, one he owned now but still couldn't help but expect to be betrayed by. As if you were going to pull a knife out any second now and stab him, even after he immobilized you with the chains around your legs. He was that kind of man; that much you had learned about him, even if it barely seemed to graze the surface. You began hating the feeling of his eyes on you the moment he revealed himself to you in this shabby hideout, his gaze so incisive it hurt. As if his eyes were daggers that he dragged through your flesh, stabbing over and over in an attempt to rip out your soul for him to observe.

"There are some bandages behind the mirror in the bathroom."

Torn from your thoughts, you couldn't help but stare back at him, even as his head fell forward again, his gaze disappearing. You two didn't have that kind of relationship. You didn't help him when he was in need, so you felt surprised at the simple instructions. They held no weight as if he didn't care whether you followed them or not—as if he expected you not to, rightfully so. Glancing at the blood, you thought that a bandage might be useless, that he needed stitches at least. But Calcharo said nothing more, pressing his palm harder against the wound without making another sound. Your head turned towards the door leading to the bathroom, and although it felt wrong to consider helping him, a compassionate part of you recognized that he needed you, your feet slowly turning away, picking up the pace as you disappeared from his sight.

The mirror caught your reflection as you flicked on the light. You had seen better days that much was sure. You weren't famished, the bags under your eyes more from anxiety and stress than lack of sleep. However, the green glow of the light didn't do you any favors either, and although you didn't think of yourself as ugly, you could only wonder what your kidnapper saw in you that he had to take such drastic measures. You were just you. That seemed to have been enough for him, even if it was strange.

The chain around your ankle felt twice as heavy as you wondered how long you'd be in this situation. Would you ever be free? Would he let you go if you helped him? Calcharo had always been silent when you asked him for his reasons. He'd sit by your bedside and wipe away your tears if you cried, begging him to be reasonable, but he never gave you the answers to console you. That was the kind of man you had offered help to. Someone so cold and selfish.

Opening the cabinet, you realized you had never looked behind the mirror before. Why? you wondered, but you were surprised at the amount of medical equipment. There were a couple of first aid kits and a box of resonator-only medicine and tools. He had every shelf stocked fully, and although he only asked for a bandage, you took at least one of everything you could find.

Calcharo was eerily quiet when you returned to his side. It made your pulse rise momentarily as you feared he might have died in the minute you were gone. The chain you were strung to clattered as you ran over, dropping to your knees next to his, dropping some of the extra weight from your arms to the floor in a moment of panic. You realized your closeness too late, anxiety shivering down your spine with how little distance there was between you two. But your focus shifted instantly, relief filling you as Calcharo looked up at you again, his eyes dropping to the items crammed between your arms and body. He scanned over your haul, and you immediately felt silly for worrying about him at all. He was perfectly fine, it seemed.

But what would you have done if he died?

You didn't know how to get out of here in the first place. Calcharo had never shown you any keys to undo your chains or to open any doors. There were no windows, and if you got out, there was no guarantee you wouldn't be in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by Tacet Discords going for your throat. These thoughts made your heart sink with a sense of panic as if reality was finally hitting you over your head. Or perhaps it was the thought of living with a corpse until you found your demise here as well. Either way, you were glad when he reached for one of the packages, revealing some round pills that he slipped between his lips, glancing up at you for a moment as if to make sure you were watching him swallow them. You fiddled with the medical utensils until you found another package, wanting to give it to him, but he shook his head as you held it out.

"Just use the bandage."

"You want me to do it?" you asked, reluctant to simply act. Glancing at the first aid kit, you were sure you'd find some there, but so far, Calcharo had always handled himself around you. Even when you had an outburst, trying to hit him, he'd let you slap him across the face rather than stop you. You'd half-expected him to retaliate when you stumbled back, recognizing his strength as superior and bracing for the impact, but it never came. He had always remained calm and composed, even with the glowing red hand-mark across his cheek.

It was the same with food or bathing. Calcharo always had enough rations stocked, and if he was back at the hideout, he made you meals all the time, only eating your leftovers or getting something for himself after you had your share. And he never took a shower first, ensuring you had all the warm water that would eventually turn cold (sometimes you let it run out of protest). You thought it might have simply been resourcefulness, but you began overthinking your beliefs now that he wanted you to do something for him.

"Are you sure?" you asked him again. There was a sense of exhaustion when he looked up at you, and much to your own surprise once more, you quickly snatched the first aid kit when he reached for it. "I can do it! Just didn't think you'd want me to..."

Calcharo let out a short grunt before lowering his arm again, not fighting you on this, but his eyes followed every one of your movements as you fiddled with the first aid kit. Ridden with sudden determination, you almost dropped all the contents on the undoubtedly nonsterile floor, only catching the bandage midair while some of the tools clattered to the ground. Quick as lightning, Calcharo caught a small pair of scissors before they could graze your leg, his bloody fist wrapping around it so tightly, you could see his knuckles whiten through the red sheen.

You gulped, watching him drag the scissors and his arm back to his side, too afraid to straighten your gaze and see the wound in full glory. When you agreed that you could do it, you had temporarily forgotten about the truly gut-wrenching part of medical treatment, and suddenly, you were even less sure about all of this.

Calcharo grumbled under his breath, noticing your sudden stiffness. His free hand reached out to touch yours. "Open it," he muttered, and his words put your body into motion. Following his instructions was so much easier than working through the thoughts that made you hesitate. He grabbed the start of the bandage from your hands once you unwrapped it, waiting for you to get onto what he was doing as he placed it over his naval before pressing it down onto the wound.

There was some visible comfort in the way his shoulders rose tensely as he covered the wound, but he dragged the now bloody bandage over the gash with skilled precision. As if he had done this countless of times, and you were almost certain he had. You reckoned that his life must not have been easy if he got so used to hurting himself for the sake of simply healing. But you quickly reminded yourself not to sympathize with him. To not forget how he wronged you despite this moment of unusual humanity. Usually, he appeared to you more like a monster, but right then, he was but a wounded soldier, and perhaps your parents had been right; you were too good-hearted for your own good.

Dragging the bandage to his side, Calchero stopped, huffing as you had stopped unwrapping more of it. He pulled his legs in so he could push his torso off the wall before he looked up at you. Gulping, you knew what you had to do. It wasn't like he wouldn't do it himself, but it was honestly ridiculous that you sat there frozen in place now that you had come so far. Inching closer, you positioned yourself between his legs, hesitating for a split second more before you reached out your arms, wrapping them around his front to reach behind Calcharo.

Carefully, perhaps with less pressure than he would have liked, you wrapped and pulled the bandage from his back to his front again. Calchero released it once he noticed you taking action, but when you reached the blood-soaked gash again, it was his hand that did the dirty work, pressing the bandage down. There was about one more round that you could make, and you quickly guided the wrap around him once more before making an amateurish knot on his healthy side. It was far from perfect, and you tried to ignore the feeling of his blood coating your hands now, too. It didn't feel like you helped him, but it was what he had wanted.

Placing your hands on the ground, you wanted to get up again, get some healthy distance between you two, and clean your hands if you got the chance. But before you could even slip one leg out from underneath you, Calchero's whole body suddenly collapsed forward. In a spurt of a moment reaction, you grabbed him by the shoulders, pushing your own between his collarbones to brace against his weight that could have easily buried you underneath it.

"H-Hey!" you called out, unsure what was happening, when you suddenly felt him inhale deeply, his hot breath releasing against your chest, sending shivers down your spine. And then, he chuckled.

"I didn't think you would."

His voice vibrated against your skin as he spoke them directly into your body. You didn't know what to say nor what he meant, but you felt the goosebumps rise across your arms and neck.

Calchero lifted himself just enough to nuzzle his face between your neck and shoulder, his weight so heavy as it rested on top of you. All you could do was curl your fingers into his body, and you cursed yourself for not immediately pushing him away, a small part of you afraid you might agitate the wound.

"Didn't think you'd care about me."

"I don't," you clarified, sounding pouty rather than confident. It had been a mistake, after all. You should have just let him sort out his own mess and stop being a busybody and help. Then, you wouldn't be in this situation now, your pulse throbbing in your ears as your heart began to beat faster with the anxiety and discomfort.

"I'm glad," he muttered. "Glad you care."

"I don't!"

This time, you did push. At least you tried. Calcharo didn't move an inch away from you, his head resting on your shoulder, his body threatening to bury you underneath if you didn't stay solid in your spot. The thought of Calcharo trapping you on purpose crossed your mind, and you hated yourself for not seeing it coming, walking right into the trap. And even if not, he was clearly exploiting the situation for all it was worth!

Of course, he'd take advantage of your kindness. Of course, he'd use your naivety and kindness to exploit you for something he wanted. Even if you questioned why it had to be you, why he kidnapped you of all people, his intentions—albeit disciplined—had always been clear. Although he held himself back from doing something regrettable so far, you had caught him touching you often: touching your hand while passing you a plate with food, brushing away hair from your face right after waking up, and letting his fingers glide over your arms or legs while you had dozed off, just to name a few. You should have been more careful. Should have listened to your body telling you to stay away. It might have just been something akin to a hug, but you should have never allowed him to go this far.

What if he took your kindness for consent?

"Please stop," you mumbled, feeling the tears shoot into your eyes. You didn't need to turn your head to know his eyes had opened, probably after hearing the sob in your voice. You wished you were stronger, able to push him away. Wished you could have fought him and caused him to stop liking you—wanting you. Wished you never even thought of him as anything but a monster.

"Just a little bit longer," he mumbled, lips brushing against your skin. Even when hiccups shook your body, Calchero didn't move, didn't budge. It seemed he didn't care anymore, getting exactly what he wanted. All you could do was sit there and wait for it to end, just like always. You felt his gaze vanish, the closeness allowing him to observe you differently, without needing to see when he could instead feel you.

His arms wrapped around your body, and you felt more trapped than ever, the feeling only registering when he said two more words that day,

"Thank you."

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satoruxx · 15 days

Text

THE SPACE BETWEEN COMFORT AND CHAOS.

✧ PAIRING: wolf!toji fushiguro x f!reader | 4.3k words

✧ SUMMARY: wolfhybrid!toji, hybrid au, flashback centric, grumpy x sunshine, animalistic behavior, mentions of injuries, violence, societal inequality, arguments, hateful speech towards hybrids, dysfunctional families, and a shit ton of angst and anger, lil fluff at the end !!

✧ RHEYA'S NOTE: hiii it's my birthday this weekend so i'm dropping chapter 4 as a quick thank you for all the support !! i love you all so much <33 this one is very toji centric and gives a lot of his past and lore to explain why he is the way he is and what led him to find reader !! there is a lot of inequality in this chapter so keep that in mind as you proceed. as always i would recommend checking out the previous parts before reading this :33

prev. | series masterlist.

the smell of blood makes toji's eyes crack open. it fills his nostrils, heavy and metallic, and it makes his hair stand on end. despite being so used to that scent, it still makes him uneasy, because sometimes he cannot tell whose blood it is.

once his eyes adjust to the dim lighting, he can't fall back asleep, though he knows he still needs rest. a series of cracks echo from his joints as he sits up, pulses of fatigue swimming through his muscles. pushing up from the ground, he casually approaches the metal bars of his cell.

his cage.

his nose twitches, the smell of blood stronger now that he's closer. a loud yawn rips from his throat, eyes catching some guards dragging another hybrid who had fought that day. he watches them throw the unconscious animal into his cell, not sparing another glance as they turn away. the sounds of their boots gets on toji's nerves, but he does not even have enough time to pity the poor creature.

another set of guards approach his cell. he's sure that they might once again tell him off for being too aggressive, or for not following orders, or for another whipping, but he's saved this time because they're just escorting a hybrid.

a familiar hybrid.

"what's wrong?" toji drawls, lips tugging into a casual smirk. "did y'lose?"

the tiger hybrid hisses angrily in return, as though personally offended, and bares his teeth. his striped ears starkly contrast his pinkish hair.

"like hell," sukuna answers proudly.

toji is about to comment on the various bloodied scratches littering sukuna's body, but one of the guards roughly shoves the tiger into his cell.

"get in!"

sukuna turns to pin him with a murderous glare, tone even and chilling. "touch me again and i'll kill you."

the guard scoffs, unbothered, before shutting the barred door behind him. sukuna's anger rises, but he does not say anything else, choosing to stare daggers at them until they've disappeared around the corner. toji understands the feeling. it would be a piece of cake to rip their throats out, especially for predators as vicious as wolves and tigers.

but they can't. one scratch on a human and they'd be put down.

a beat of silence passes. toji is sure the hybrid sitting across the hall is also thinking about the same thing, so used to biting his tongue just to stay alive.

(he remembers the first day sukuna got thrown in, hisses and snapping teeth as he cursed the guards with all sorts of creativity. toji had been underground long enough to see the same spectacle over and over again, and so he hadn't really given a damn at that time. the two passed weeks in silence, purely focused on their own individual fights and then immediately falling asleep once back in their respective cells.

toji was no expert at reading people, but he could tell that the tiger was as stubborn as he was—they refused to acknowledge one another.

and when they were finally pitted against each other, it was a messy fight. toji still remembers the way the crowd had roared at their aggressive attacks, every draw of blood eliciting some sick twisted pleasure within them.

toji had been used to putting in the bare minimum during his fights, finding it relatively easy to win against other predators. but that fight against sukuna was the first time he struggled a little bit.

the tiger will never admit it, but the feeling was definitely mutual.

so after the brawl, when they were both quietly sitting in their cages and hissing at their wounds stubbornly, there was a brief moment of acknowledgement.

"where the hell did you learn how to fight like that?" the tiger had eyed toji warily, thick brows furrowed in a way that made him look extra grumpy.

after that, it seemed that there was a mutual sense of respect between the two of them. they are not friends per se, definitely not. both toji and sukuna know that if it came down to it, they would kill the other in the arena if it meant staying alive.

but there was an understanding that they were both on the same level. and it seemed that those who ran the fights understood that too.

after all, fights between the two of them were always a very popular spectacle.)

even now, sukuna doesn't look at toji, too busy muttering a string of insults aimed at the guard from earlier. toji ignores them, used to it. they remain in that same silence, not uncomfortable, but not really comfortable either.

toji takes a seat, crossing his legs and leaning against the cold bars. he can still hear the sounds of the guards footsteps echoing through the halls, and that just makes him crave freedom—another familiar feeling.

he should be used to it by now. craving what he cannot have.

sukuna seems to know what he's thinking, because he scoffs with a dramatic roll of his eyes. "don't start."

"you don't ever think about running?" toji ponders, dragging his claws across the stone floor. the tiger's ears twitch, sensitive to the sound, and he throws toji a scathing scowl.

"run? where the hell would we go?" the tiger grumbles, crossing his bulky arms. "you know they'll just find us again. it's pointless."

"but it's happened before," toji insists, scratching behind his ear absentmindedly. there have always been whispers floating through the compound, of hybrids with guts of steel that took it upon themselves to make a run for it. though several were caught and devastatingly punished, there were those who they never saw again. the idea that they must be somewhere where light shines and wind blows is strangely comforting.

"yeah rarely," the tiger snorts in return. a quiet hiss of displeasure escapes his lips as he notices the claw marks running up his arm, and he carefully begins licking at his wounds. "most of the time those fools get caught. and then they get punished."

toji shrugs noncommittally, leaning his head against the bars. "worth the risk."

sukuna curiously peers at him from over his injured arm, heavy brows furrowed. "you really think it's that much better up there?"

"anywhere's better than in here." toji says it resolutely, and sukuna, normally so snippy, says nothing to rebuke him.

before the conversation can continue, toji's nostrils fill with a familiar scent—cigarettes, ironed clothes, faint whiskey. he suppresses a roll of his eyes.

"look who it is." he sarcastically cranes his neck, watching as shiu kong approaches his cell with a nonchalant smile.

"you sure do look relaxed for someone who just had me do a shit ton of paperwork." shiu leans against the wall, eyeing toji through the cell. toji does not like that he has to look up to meet his gaze, so he gets to his feet and casually crosses his arms.

"what the fuck did i do?"

"lots of people enjoyed your fight yesterday. with the polar bear?" shiu pulls out a cigarette, and toji's nose crinkles. "you've got an increase in bets, y'know?"

"who cares?" toji mutters, pushing away from the bars to pace around his cell.

it's not like any of the hybrids get that money.

"i do," shiu chuckles, cigarette balanced between his lips. "you're helping me get paid."

"lucky you," toji sarcastically shoots back. shiu snorts in amusement, crossing his arms.

"anyways, i'm thinking this is a good time to host a big fight for you. the timing is good." toji's "manager" (if that's what you can call him) eyes the wolf as he exhales a puff of smoke. toji's eyes narrow in return, a feeling of anticipation and mild irritation crawling up his skin.

"so you two—" shiu nods his head towards the wolf and the grumpy tiger sitting across the hall. "—prepare for a show, alright?"

sukuna curses colorfully, and toji rolls his eyes. "relax. i'm not giddy to fight you either, asshole."

"yeah because you'll lose," the tiger hisses, baring his teeth.

"oh yeah? that's not what happened last time." toji grins wolfishly, watching sukuna's anger rise.

"because you fucking cheated!"

"aw, little cat can't handle a few bites?" toji's amusement becomes more palpable, enjoying the argument—a very common occurrence for the two of them. "that's why dogs are better."

"i'll kill you," sukuna utters ominously, his striped tail puffed and curling in an aggressively defensive display.

"try it," toji smirks back.

"alright easy boys," shiu chuckles, shaking his head in mild exasperation. "save that energy for the actual fight. people eat that shit up."

"and somehow we're the animals," sukuna grumbles, deciding he's done with the conversation as he heads over to the corner of his cell and curls up on the ground.

"well yeah," shiu shrugs, unfazed. "you should be used to that by now."

they are.

"anyway i figured i'd let you know." the older man turns to face toji. "i know most of the fights are pretty easy for you. but since you both are top tier fighters, prepare how you need to."

"it's not like we've never fought before," toji replies dryly, ears twitching. "i know how it goes down."

"well okay." shiu adjusts his suit jacket, shoving his hands into his pockets.

from the corner of his eye, toji can see sukuna listening in, face impassive.

"you two give me a good show, alright?" shiu casually waves over his shoulder, before heading off back in the direction he came.

"whatever," sukuna grunts, turning on his side. toji watches the tiger's tail lazily flick—side to side. "i hate dogs."

toji lets out a dry chuckle. "well i'm not the biggest fan of cats either, asshole."

again, they aren't friends, but the bleakness of their situation makes it easier to tolerate one another.

a week later, they both face off in the area as promised. shiu claps toji on the back before he heads in, a gesture that makes the wolf's skin prickle, but he brushes it off. he could have someone worse be in charge of him, but shiu is a bit easier to get along with than most of the humans down there. though toji isn't naive—the only reason shiu is so casually cheery around him is because toji is his biggest moneymaker.

that's what it all came down to.

sukuna and toji have both fought enough times to know how to play to the crowd's wishes. they bark and snarl at each other like they are truly wild, claws and teeth and blood everywhere because they know that's what gets the humans going.

that's what gets them to open their wallets at least.

sukuna takes the victory this time around, which is not inherently unusual—they both have a fairly even split of victories and losses. they play up their enmity, and everyone goes wild.

even though hybrids are the shackled ones, somehow these humans remind toji of puppets—so easily manipulated.

the two of them stand and rile up the crowd at the end, acting like they truly are nothing but feral animals who know only to growl and snap at each other. as soon as they hear the sounds of money being exchanged and the roar of conversation they are escorted back to their cells.

toji's ears ring with the sounds of groans and cheers, the same familiar words grating his ears.

"i told you sukuna would win this one!"

"yeah but i said toji would draw first blood, so pay up!"

imbeciles. savages. nothing humane about them.

in their cells, both of them do their best to clean up their wounds. but a fight this aggressive usually results in equally rough damage.

"i think you fractured my rib or something," toji grunts, wincing as he sits down. sukuna throws him an unimpressed look through the bars of his cage.

"not my fault you're weak."

toji's middle finger flies up automatically, and sukuna's lips pull up to one side. "ask them for medical if it's that bad."

"yeah right," toji snorts, licking away the blood that has been dripping from the corner of his mouth. "like they'll listen."

it's more of a curse that hybrids have a better pain tolerance than humans. the medics here never take their injuries seriously for that exact reason.

no instead, they are expected to clean up as they can and prepare for the next fight, letting their body heal as well as possible. humans have always been so hypocritical.

they both relax in a welcome silence. toji suddenly realizes how tired he is, jade eyes straining as he attempts to fix himself up. he knows the rules—damaged merchandise is treated as such.

his ears pick up the faint sound of footsteps approaching, and he realizes that it's probably shiu coming over to update them about the earnings of their fights.

but he is entirely surprised.

"wow, you're definitely a sight."

toji's eyes narrow, teeth gritting. his mood plummets, ears straightening and tail going rigid. the sound of that voice makes every bit of hatred in toji's body come bubbling to the surface. he glares over his shoulder, spitting out each word with extreme difficulty. "what the fuck do you want?"

naoya zenin looks down his nose at the wolf, a greasy smile on his face. naobito zenin stands just behind him, arms crossed with a barely visible look of disgust on his face.

toji's cousin conveniently ignores the accusatory question, peering around the cells and hallway with feigned interest. "these conditions are terrible!"

he finally pins toji with his gaze, an evil smile pulling at his lips. "well, that's to be expected for animals."

"what the fuck do you want?!" toji growls, claws digging into the ground. naoya's eyes light up at the anger, knowing full well that those claws can never come anywhere near him.

"temper! temper!" the blonde gasps, tutting at toji like he's nothing more than a child. "haven't you learned how to control yourself by now?"

"let me out of this cell and i'll show you just how much control i have." the wolf's voice is no more than a rumble, dark and ominous because there is nothing in the world that toji hates more than his own family.

naoya shakes his head, feigning a look of disappointment. "so violent. it's a good thing we put you in here. who knows how dangerous you could've been to us."

the words hit their mark, a jab of self-hatred. toji's green eyes flit over to his uncle, sharp and accusatory.

the one who ratted him out to this godforsaken place.

toji knows when normal families have a predator hybrid born into their home, they lie and cheat and hide them away from this life—too desperate to keep their child away from such danger. after all, it's not the child's fault they were born a predator.

but not toji's family. not the zenins, who took one look at him and waited for the second he turned 18 before hauling him off.

nothing but a bunch of rats.

he knows that he was worth a lot of money. a healthy and fit wolf hybrid, broader and stronger than most of his own species. and of course, his family was quick to sell him off, glad to be rid of this curse on their family—the only shame.

toji had grown up knowing he was hated, but he never thought a family could do something so horrible to one of their own. he stopped seeing the best in people after that.

"you brought this on yourself," his uncle states now, emotionless. his opinion on hybrids has not changed one bit, and yet he shamelessly comes to the compound to collect a portion of the winnings that toji earns. "born with tainted blood."

"you're acting like it's my fucking fault, old man," toji spits out, hackles raised. he wants them to leave, because all he feels when looking at them is nausea.

"it's your damn mother's fault. couldn't keep away from my brother. she ruined him," naobito's emotionless voice takes on a tone of hatred, and toji tenses. "filthy dog whore."

toji's reaction is instantaneous. he's at the bars in a second, teeth bared and spewing curses as he makes a mad grab for either of them. he doesn't care—all he wants to do is tear them to shreds. toji can feel his wounds open further, can feel blood dripping over his skin, but all that seems miniscule when they are in front of him.

the cause of every single misfortune he has ever had.

naoya hops out of the way, laughing—it is a mocking, grating laugh that echoes throughout the hall as he watches toji desperately struggle. "see see! this is why you're dangerous!"

naobito shakes his head, as though he's thoroughly disappointed, but he does not say anything else.

"anyways, well done today!" naoya continues, grinning as he crosses his arms. "you earned a lot of money for us."

toji glares at him, dropping his arm and taking a step back. somehow, being further in his cell is much more comforting than being in their line of sight. he keeps his lips tightly shut.

naoya's voice turns taunting as naobito heads off without another word. "such a shame my dear cousin wasn't born normal like the rest of us." he follows his father without a care in the world, knowing how well his words sting. "had to be born an animal freak."

the hallways is empty. toji takes a few steadying breaths, pushing the anger away because he knows that there is truly no point in keeping it. it's not like this anger has done him any good. maybe if he had gotten angry earlier, he would have zenin blood on his hands—the thought gives him a sick sense of satisfaction.

"your family fucking sucks…" sukuna pipes up from across the hall. toji scoffs out a laugh, but it is far from amused. he turns away.

suddenly the blood on his hands makes him feel disgusting—so much more animalistic than human.

"tell me about it," he mutters, back turned. his ears pick up the sounds of sukuna curling up in his corner, and in a few minutes, quiet rumbling snores follow.

toji sighs, approaching his sink and staring at the cracked mirror he's grown used to seeing himself in. he takes in his reflection, disgust rolling in his stomach.

he thinks he'd probably be considered decently attractive if he was a regular old human. but the dark furry ears, the sharp canines, and all the scars ruin him. adding his haggard clothing and feral eyes and all the blood and dirt on him, he can understand why he is considered so untouchable.

an animal in every right.

he turns the sink on. he is briefly reminded of another time, a time where he lived in a family house and slept in a futon that was warmer than anything he's ever slept in. he can remember wearing things other than rags, occasionally a yukata and other times a t-shirt. he can remember eating a home cooked meal and drinking sake and feeling sunlight on his skin.

and yet even in those better times, he has always had to hear the words of his family cursing his existence. cursing his mother's name for seducing his father and ruining their bloodline with her animal blood.

the only dark stain on the pristine zenin family.

toji sighs, scrubbing the blood from under his claws—like clockwork. the water in the sink turns a mocking shade of pink, and as horrible as it is to say, toji is glad the blood is not his.

he wipes his paws across his ragged clothes, and stares at himself in the mirror.

he isn't ashamed to admit it—but he hates what he sees.

naoya's laughter rings in his ears as he shuts his eyes.

"hey toji?"

his eyes snap open. when the haze clears he sees your features come into focus, soft and curious. your scent floods his nose, and a pleasant shiver runs up his skin. there is a quick sense of relief when he realizes that he had been dreaming of a time in the past, and he steels himself, expression indifferent as he sits up. he briefly recognizes the stark contrast between the hardness of the stone floor in his cell and the softness of your couch—his tongue sits heavy in his mouth.

"what?" he grunts, rubbing at his eyes. he tries to throw you a mock irritated glance, but either it comes off too mild or you've become good at ignoring it. "when'd you get here?"

"a few minutes ago. i got takeout." your lips pull into a teasing smile. "unless you'd rather go back to sleep?"

he pins you with a scathing glare, and annoyingly enough, your smile becomes wider. he stands up, popping his joints and following you to your kitchen table, before diligently taking a seat—in his chair.

toji silently watches you bustle around, grabbing utensils and plates to evenly distribute the food. his stomach growls eagerly, and he realizes just how hungry he is—he recognizes that his body is getting used to being fed so often, and he does not know how to feel about that.

toji's eyes zero in on silly details, not knowing why he does it. your hair is a little messy, not as neat as when you left for work that morning. you've taken off your jacket, the absence of the restrictive fabric making your movements easier. he thinks you've probably had a good day, because your expression, though fatigued, is still relaxed—a small, almost miniscule smile remains on your face.

there a strange satisfaction the settles in his chest when he notices that. he doesn't know why, but the idea that you've had a nice day rather than a difficult one puts him at ease.

"how was your day?" you speak up, briefly making eye contact with him.

(toji does not understand why the small contact makes his stomach flip.)

he grunts, nonchalant. "not bad. didn't do much."

"the injuries are good?"

toji rolls his eyes, dropping his chin into his palm as he pins you with an intrusive stare. "yeah yeah. you ask this every day."

"well it can be good one day and not good the next," you reply defensively, frowning at the chicken you're currently dropping into his plate. but you look satisfied to hear his answer.

toji chuckles mutely. "sure kid."

(the nickname came randomly. you never commented on it. he didn't either.)

he hesitates for a second, before clearing his throat. "how was yours?"

you glance up at him, too quick for him to analyze the expression, but he thinks he catches a faint trace of pleasant surprise. "it was good. boring but not bad at all."

he nods awkwardly—the internal satisfaction grows stronger. his stomach rumbles again as you walk over and place his plate in front of him, and the smell hits his nose immediately—his hunger is all consuming.

(your scent is one of the few human scents he has truly found pleasant.)

and yet he finds himself patiently waiting until you plate your own food, sitting across him quietly. he presses his hands together, bowing his head as he mutters a quiet "thank you for the food" before tucking in.

(he does not say your name, but he thinks he is thanking you—his own twisted version of a god.)

he stays quiet for most of the meal, focusing on the unique and savory taste of the food. months ago he would not have imagined being able to consume such delicacy, but all you have done since you walked into his life is show him that he can have much more than he ever dreamed he could.

you blabber about random things as you eat, telling him about something you saw or what you did throughout the day. he listens.

you're in the middle of updating him about some stupid work drama, which, as embarrassing as it is to say, toji has been looking forward to hearing about. he does not interrupt you, trying to rack his brain for all the details you've spilled the last time.

(it's pathetic how quick he finds them. something about listening to you talk that makes everything else seem useless in comparison.)

"so anyways her husband found out and got mad. but then she basically tried to deny it and said that he was accusing her of nothing." you shove a mouthful of rice into your mouth, rolling your eyes. your tongue flicks out to lick at your lips—toji's eyes shamefully trace the movement. "it's a whole thing now because obviously the dude she was having the affair with works with us too."

"what a bitch," toji answers. your eyes crinkle with amusement, eager to hear him participating. you've probably since realized that he does find your gossip interesting. but it's more than that—he does not know why it's so easy to talk to you.

"right? i hate cheaters," you mutter, stabbing at your chicken.

he does too. something about being a dog that makes loyalty so damn important to him.

(maybe that's why he feels physically ill when he thinks about leaving your side.)

you continue rambling about your cheating coworker with a newfound conviction. toji listens, occasionally dropping a dry remark, and you either laugh or nod emphatically. his lips quirk upward at every reaction. he continues eating his food—slowly so that he can match your pace. which is odd, because he was so damn hungry before.

but even as he quietly chews on the flavored meat, he finds that satiety comes a lot quicker when he quietly listens to you talk.

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froggibus · 5 months

Note

hiiiiiii i just wanna say i love ur work so much. i was wondering if i could request a jason todd hurt/comfort fic. i recently had a really scary experience outside of a bar, and it has been taking a toll on me. maybe something like reader and jason fight over something silly, and then something like that happens to reader and he comforts them after and feels bad about the fight before? with a lot of fluff and reassurance. maybe he gives them a bath or something:) THANK YOUUUU

Never Let Me Go - Jason Todd

Pairing: Jason Todd x gn! reader

Genre: hurt/comfort, angst -> fluff

Word Count: 2.3k

Summary: after an argument with Jason, you're left to fend for yourself outside of a bar

CW: attempted assault, attempted SA, chasing, slight violence, dissociation/shock (reader), arguing, alcohol, hurt/comfort, pet names (Jason calls reader baby/hun), bathing together, jason is snarky at first

sorry this took so long! really hope you're feeling better, but if you (or anyone else reading this) ever need to talk, my inbox is always open <3 i talk about my own struggles with ptsd on this blog, and i want everyone to be able to feel safe enough to talk about theirs, too

i tried to keep the assault scene short and brief, but i've also added cuts before and after in case anyone would like to skip it.

(title slightly based on this song)

“You know that stuff is pure sugar and no alcohol, right?”

You roll your eyes when Jason gestures to your drink with a look of distaste, hiding his snark behind the rim of his glass. You’re tempted to remind him that the foamy beer he’s pounding back has even less alcohol than your Cosmo, but think the better of it. He’s in a bitchy mood, and there’s no point making it worse.

He’d gotten into a fight with Bruce the night before, and had practically gone on a rampage through Gotham’s underground. The anger radiated off of him still when he’d showed up at your apartment an hour earlier, even after he’d flashed you a tense smile and planted a tentative kiss to your lips.

You’d told him at least three times since then that he didn’t have to come with you—given the bar was around the corner from your home, and you could stumble home from it drunk, backwards and in your sleep—but Jason had insisted. As if you ever thought Jason would be able to relax knowing you’re out at a bar in the heart of Gotham, despite your assertions that you would only be having a couple drinks and maybe some chili fries.

You swish your glass around, watching the raspberry coloured booze slosh on the sides. “We can go home if you’re not feeling up to this,” you say gently. “I don’t mind.”

He gives his broad shoulders an irritating shrug. “You wanted to get out of the house, we’re out of the house.”

Though he doesn’t say it, you can hear the unspoken words crackling through the air. What more do you want from me?

“But do you want to leave?”

Jason’s eyes narrow, black pupils forcing out imperial blue. “I go where you go.”

It takes more effort than you’d like to admit to resist tugging at your hair. Though it’s been years since he lived in Wayne Manor, and even longer since he studied under Bruce, the lessons he learned have never left him. Including this form of aggravating, diplomatic speech where his answers gave no answers at all.

“Whatever,” you sigh under your breath, crossing your legs and tilting your body back to your drink.

Jason scoffs, “whatever? Really?”

“Yes, really!” You’re grateful that the mix of conversations and the drone of 90s rock are loud enough to cover up your rising voice. “I just wanted to get out of the house for once and you’re being mean.”

“I’m being mean?” There’s a cruel smirk on his lips. “The only reason I’m here is because of you, so that you wouldn’t have to be alone.”

“I never asked for that.”

Your heart races painfully in your chest. You’ve never liked arguing, especially not in public when the both of you have been drinking and especially not when Jason is already chafing under the expectations of others. It’s a nightmarish combination that leaves electricity sizzling in the air and everyone in the room on edge.

He chugs the rest of his beer, not even bothering to wipe away the tiny bit of white foam that catches on the shadow above his upper lip. “Fine then,” he grumbles, and tosses a fifty onto the counter. “I’ll see you.”

He leaves no room for protest, already barreling his way through the tables. By the time you’ve even processed what just happened, he’s already at the door, back muscles tensing beneath brown leather as he yanks it open hard enough to shake the hinges.

You wait until you hear the familiar rev of his motorcycle before ordering another round.

It’s late by the time you decide to pay your tab and head home. Your phone has long since been dead weight in your pocket, but even if it weren’t, you wouldn’t have bothered to check it. There was a part of you that hoped Jason would come back, that he would apologize, but that part is about as dead as your phone is.

It’s brisk outside now, and cold rain sprinkles from above. The dark rain clouds block out the moon, dim flickering street lights the only light you can see. You take a long, deep breath that clouds the air as you release it, rubbing your freezing forearms. Home is just around the corner, but that’s still an eight minute walk. Minimum.

A groan slips past your lips as you lean against the outside of the building, peering into the dark streets for any sign of a cab. A rock skids across the ground to your left and you snap your head in the direction it came from.

A man saunters towards you, his body encased in shadows. “Need a ride?”

A shiver rises up your spine. You shuffle further to your right, trying to put more distance between you and the stranger.

He doesn’t take the hint. He moves closer, purposefully slamming his boots harder into the ground to get your attention. “I said,” he repeats, “do you need a ride?”

“No,” you swallow hard, adding a quick, “thank you.”

You don’t know this man, but you despise him. You despise his imposition, the southern twang of his voice, the fact you’re instinctually polite to him so that you don’t risk pissing him off.

Despite your plea, he keeps coming towards you. “I reckon you do.”

The alarm bells in your head start to shriek. You shove off of the wall, stumbling only slightly before you regain your balance and take off down the sidewalk. It’s dark and though you can no longer see him when you glance over your shoulder, you can hear the pounding of his boots on the pavement behind you.

And then his cold, clammy hands lock around your wrist and tug you hard. You strain against his grasp, using your entire body weight to get away, to go anywhere but here.

He’s so close you can smell the alcohol on his breath, feel the warmth of his body. Not warm the way Jason is, but warm the way a fire you shouldn’t go near is. You cry out desperately. The bar is still within sight, someone has to come out, someone has to see.

“Why not just let me show you a good time?” He says, “I’m a really nice guy if you give me a chance.”

You drive your elbow into his arm and his grip loosens enough for you to tug away. You rip your wrist from his grasp, but as you do, you lose your balance and crash onto the dirty, wet Gotham pavement. With how cold you are and the adrenaline your heart is furiously pumping through your body, you barely feel the impact.

You can’t see the expression on his face as you drag yourself across the pavement, but you hear a low chuckle. You imagine it’s similar to that of a wolf zeroing in on its prey.

And then, a booming voice cuts through the darkness. “What the fuck are you doing?”

Jason sounds pissed, but it's maybe the most beautiful thing you’ve ever heard. The most beautiful string of words in the English language.

The man spins on his heels away from you just in time to catch a harsh uppercut to the face. A loud crack reverberates through the buildings, and he goes down like a sack of potatoes on the concrete next to you.

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, looking up at Jason through your lashes. “You’re—how?”

“Oh, baby. Baby, baby,” he sighs, dropping to his knees on the pavement next to you. His new jeans are probably ruined from touching the ground—as are yours—but that seems to be the least of his concerns right now.

He cradles your head in his lap, his hands trailing up your damp, aching skin for any sign of injury. You shiver, closing your eyes and letting Jason hold you. The adrenaline flooding your veins has not yet diluted, and the calloused warmth from Jason’s hands is the only thing keeping you from floating away.

“I didn’t leave, baby, would never leave you. I was waiting around back when I heard you and,” he sighs, “I’m so sorry.”

His words are faint, so faint, and more gentle than you’ve ever heard him speak. Though he clutches you tightly to him, the feeling registers as barely a whisper. And then you’re on your feet, propped up against his side as he helps you back to where he propped his bike.

Your mind is somewhere else now. You’d have completely forgotten about your own body if it weren’t for the frantic, rhythmic shove of Jason’s heart against his ribcage with every step you take.

You’re not sure how you got back to your apartment, but you’re sure it was through no small effort on Jason’s part. Your waist is warm from where his hand rests—he’s refused to let you go for even a moment since he saw you on that pavement.

You shiver violently even after you return to the warmth of your home. Jason had wrapped you in his jacket but even that did little to stop the shaking.

He cups your face, a soft intensity in his eyes. “Let’s get you warmed up, hm?”

You barely react to his touch, or to his words. It doesn’t take a genius to know you’re in shock—Jason’s seen it more than enough times in his lifetime to recognize it at a glance.

The shivering, that faraway and glassy look in your eyes, the way your lips move as if they’ll form words but no sound comes out. Your pupils themselves have almost doubled in size from the adrenaline coursing through your system.

He’d take the crowbar a thousand damn times if it meant he would never have to see you like this. He would give away all that he has, and all that he is, to never subject you to this kind of pain.

“I’ll be right back,” he says, and starts towards the dark hallway leading to your bedroom and bathroom.

You let out a choked gasp—the most sound you’ve managed since earlier—and Jason whips around. Blue eyes snap to yours, looking more like broken glass through the tears catching on your own lashes.

Don’t leave, you want to say. Not even for a minute, not even for a second. But your words fail you, and all you have to fall back on is a gasp of air and the tears in your eyes.

Jason understands, though. “Let’s go together, then.”

He grabs one of your hands in his, and holds your waist with the other. You walk like that down the hall, Jason holding you tight and guiding you to your bathroom. He helps you settle down on the toilet seat while he runs a hot bath.

Jason has you sit on the side of the bathtub, only your bare feet resting in the warm water. He sits with you, his legs on either side of your own and his arms around your waist. Already, the shaking has subsided and your eyes have started to clear. Relief floods his system, wiping away the guilt that’s been bubbling in his stomach.

He waits a few minutes, before saying, “let’s get you out of those clothes and into the bath.”

It’s posed more like a question, his fingers tracing inquisitive circles on your hip. He’s asking, you realize, if it would be okay for him to help you undress. If you’re comfortable being naked in front of him right now. The kindness of the gesture has your shoulders dropping from your ears.

“Y-yeah,” you manage.

Jason keeps his touch firm, steady, while he peels your dirty shirt over your head. He has you raise your feet above the water so he can help you with your pants and underwear, discarding your clothes in a pile on the tiled floor.

He squeezes your shoulders reassuringly when he sees you hesitate at the side of the bathtub before finally stepping in and letting your aching body settle in the warm water.

It’s an immediate relief. The chill your skin has taken on, the ice running through your blood, starts to defrost.

Jason watches you relax into the warm porcelain, your impossibly tense muscles finally loosening. “Feeling any better?” He asks quietly.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble quietly.

He grabs a washcloth from the drawer beneath the counter. “Hey, none of that.”

“I just,” you take a deep, shaking breath, “if we had never gone out tonight, none of this would have happened and you wouldn’t have had to help me and—”

Jason splashes warm water over your head. “None of that,” he repeats. “I don’t want to hear any of that.”

“But—”

“Nothing that happened tonight was any fault of yours.” He brushes the wet washcloth across your face, wiping away stray tears. “You did nothing wrong. I should never have left you, plain and simple.”

“It’s not your fault either, Jay.”

He strokes the washcloth over your forehead. “I’m supposed to protect you, hun. I didn’t do a very good job of it tonight.”

“Get in here with me?” You clutch his forearm.

He chuckles. It’s been a very, very long time since Jason Todd could comfortably fit in a normal sized bathtub, but for you, he’d do anything. He’s gentle climbing in the bath behind you, propping his legs around the outside of yours so you can comfortably lay back on him.

It’s a cramped fit, it couldn’t possibly be comfortable for anyone—but Jason sucks it up for your sake. Despite the ways his knees ache from the angle he keeps his legs, it all feels worth it when you lay your head on his chest.

“Thank you for being here,” you say quietly.

He plants a gentle kiss on the top of your head. “For you? Anything.”

And you know he means it.

(if you enjoy content like this, interactions go a long way! comments, likes & rbs are always greatly appreciated ^-^ !!)

Masterlist | DC Masterlist

#jason todd #red hood #jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #jason todd angst #jason todd hurt/comfort #red hood x you #red hood x reader #jason todd imagine #jason todd fluff #batfam x reader

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remlionheart · 6 months

Note

Can you do a Chuuya x fem reader where her bra can be shown from her white shirt?

pov: you request a simple spicy lil fic from me, but my manic brain is physically incapable of not giving it an entire backstory and plot and making it at least 4k+ words (thank you so much for this idea tho, it was super fun to write! ღ)

* ˚ ✦ MDNI ✦˚ *

Sex, Money, Feelings, Die

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ My first attempt at Chuuya smut (and goddamn, do I love that angry lil man ★~(◡‿◡✿). New to the city, you're coerced into working for the PM after a drunken night out. Scared and now in the heart of one of Japan's most notorious criminal organization's headquarters, you decide to reclaim some of your power by ~*teasing the absolute fuck out of Chuuya Nakahara~*. 4.8k words. Porn with a plot. I can't even lie, this shit had me giggling and kicking my feet while writing, lemme know whatcha think. luv u ღ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

When you'd first moved to Yokohama 2 months ago, you had promised your parents that you'd be safe. That you'd find yourself a decent office job to afford you a lofty apartment and that you'd be settled in relatively quickly. You'd pictured yourself walking amongst tall buildings on your days off. Exploring the city with your coworkers on the weekends. Living instead of just existing in your small hometown.

You thought you had your future all mapped out and maybe you did, but those dreams of normalcy were all but destroyed the night you crossed paths with Koyo Ozaki.

She had noticed you from across the bar, quietly observing the way you'd been drinking by yourself all night. It was odd to see a girl with your beauty and lack of abilities so confidently roaming downtown alone. She wasn't sure if you were brave or naive, but the moment you took a seat next to her to thank her for the whiskey and coke she had ordered you, she realized you were the perfect blend of both.

She'd spent the next hour chatting you up, effortlessly coaxing information out of you without you realizing it. She'd offered you an administrative assistant role for the group she worked for, describing it as a "lucrative" and "underground" organization. You were in no position to say no, especially after spending the last month relentlessly applying to jobs with little to no luck.

You woke up the next day musing about silly things like fate and serendipity as you raided your closet for the perfect first day outfit. You felt like this was your big break. The first stop on the roadmap of adulthood that you'd created for yourself. You ironed a pair all black slacks, pairing it with a white-button up quarter-sleeve shirt, and your favorite suede Mary-Janes. Optimism swirled through your head as you eyed yourself in your bedroom mirror that night. You were determined to be so good at this job.

You showed up freshly showered and prepared when you arrived at the sleek, high-rise building. Ozaki waited for you out front with a rather intimidating dark-haired man who introduced himself as Mori, head of the fucking Port Mafia.

Your anxiety rose with each step you took behind them, quickly realizing that this was not the run-of-the-mill clerical job you had envisioned while hazily chatting with Ozaki over whiskey-neats. This was an underground criminal organization full of some of the strongest ability users in the world. You had absolutely no idea why you were here. Why you'd been selected, let alone trusted, to work alongside these people.

You were given your own small office, equipped with a bare desk and landline phone. Mori told you to stay put, explaining that you were to stay out of sight until further notice. You were essentially there as a cover-up.

Apparently, they'd been scouting for girls like you. New to town and completely clueless. They wanted to bring in a handful of these 'administrative assistants' to help keep up the illusion that this was just another ordinary building in the business district of Yokohama and nothing more.

Mori left you with a curt warning about the temperament of the other Mafia members and a haunting, "Welcome to the team." as he closed the door to your office and disappeared down the long corridor. Your heart was slamming into your chest, your anxiety growing the longer you sat. You were angry. Disappointed in yourself for being such an easy target.

You sat for at least an hour staring at the wall in existential dread, wondering what you'd done to end up here. Wondering what you were going to have to do to get out now that you were here. Even if it wasn't necessarily a "job", it still didn't seem like something you could just casually walk away from.

You were in the middle of the Port Mafia's headquarters and you were rightfully, terrified.

The sound of two muffled voices pulled you away from your thoughts while you froze in your chair, realizing that they were right outside your door.

"You're fuckin' with me, right?"

"No, that's really where they're keeping her. She's going to be a fulltime member."

"A member?" it was the first man again, his voice full of shameless snark and volume as he laughed at the idea. "A Mafia member with no ability? C'mon, Akutagawa. Even Mori isn't that stupid."

"There's going to be more, she's just the first to show up."

Tension crept along your spine when both voices came to a curious stop, one quietly scolding the other before the heavy wooden door began to creak open.

A pair of azure eyes stared back at you, disheveled shoulder-length red hair draping off of one shoulder as he mumbled, "Holy shit."

The taller of the two, draped in a long black coat, tried to pry him away, but he shrugged him off with an irritated. "Chill out, I just wanna introduce myself to her."

The dark-haired man scoffed and continued down the hallway while his ginger companion closed the door behind him, leaving just the two of you looking back at each other skeptically.

Despite his height, he had a powerful demeanor. A blend of apathy and cockiness that exuded off of him as he carefully made his way towards you. "So, you're the new girl, huh?"

Your eyebrows furrowed when you looked back at him, your words suddenly stuck in your throat as his foot made contact with your desk.

You managed a nod, remembering the way Mori had advised you not to engage with the other Mafia members, but what were you supposed to do when you were suddenly locked in a room with one?

"God, we really can't just have one normal day around here, can we?" He sighed, almost seeming embarrassed as his shoulders dropped and he leaned against your desk in the spot next to you. "Stealin' girls out of bars? Tch, the hell are they thinkin'?"

His opposition to his boss' plan made you relax a bit. It was the first time all day that you thought you might make it out of here okay.

He picked up on your apprehension rather quickly, taking his hat off and setting it down before extending a gloved hand out to you. "Chuuya." He said simply.

You stared at him for another moment or two before introducing yourself, trying but failing to mimic his nonchalant tone.

"Hey," He said, lightly nudging your foot with his, "You're gonna be alright. I'm sure this gig will only last for a couple of weeks until they move on to their next big, idiotic idea."

"You think so?" It was the first time all day that you felt like you could breathe.

"Trust me, Mori's plans are always changing. He'll probably cut you a fat check for hush money and then send you on your way sooner than later. Just lay low in the meantime, yeah?"

Your eyes were still locked as you nodded at him again, giving him a feeble, "Okay... Yeah, I can do that."

"Good." He smirked, pulling himself away from your desk.

You watched him pause just before exiting the room. He turned around to face you again, his gaze landing a bit lower than your eyes this time.

"And maybe uh -" If you didn't know any better, you'd swear that you saw a flash of red flare across his cheeks. "Maybe don't wear that bra with a white shirt next time."

Out of all of the anxiety and fear that you'd been drowning in over the last few hours, your choice of outfit had been the very last thing you'd considered worrying about until just now.

You looked down, noticing what he meant as you saw the dark, lacy fabric of your Victoria's not-so-secret peeking through the white of your blouse. Your tits were pushed perfectly together, nearly on full display through the sheerness of your shirt.

He flashed you another faint smirk before clicking the door shut, once again leaving you to your own crippling thoughts as your head dropped into your hands.

What an absolutely mortifying first day.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

The next few shifts were a blur.

You'd clock in. Sit for what felt like an eternity in your bleak little office. Leave mid-day to grab lunch at a cafe across the street. And then head home 9 hours later despite the fact that you’d hardly done anything.

You'd learned to bring in books and cross-stich patterns to keep yourself busy throughout the day instead of rotting away at your desk. It wasn't an ideal situation, but if Chuuya was right and there really was a big check waiting for you around the corner, you'd decided that it was worth it to see this through. Because no matter how nervous you got each morning, the painful truth was that you couldn’t afford to turn down easy money.

By the end of the week, you found yourself doing more than just sneaking in romance mangas to make the job more bearable though. You were doing everything you could to gain back even a semblance of power.

If you had to be here, you had decided that you were going to make it everyone's problem.

With the ginger's words still fresh in your mind, you made it a point to wear darker bras. Tighter blouses. Shorter skirts that barely covered your ass. It had almost become an inside joke with yourself at what a distraction you'd become to the Port Mafia. Maybe couldn’t make these men fear you, but you could certainly make them trip all over themselves any time you entered the building.

You'd hardly been able to keep a straight face yesterday afternoon when Akutagawa's coffee fell from his hands and cascaded around him after he saw you walking down the hall in black knee-high stockings. You'd finally managed to make everyone here as uncomfortable as they'd made you and it felt good.

You were half-way through the iced matcha you'd picked up on lunch, sitting with your feet propped up on your desk as you continued to embroider the word "fuck" in pretty, cursive letters next to a pink and yellow flower when a knock arrived at your door.

You quickly stashed the circular cross-stitch pad in one of the desk drawers and straightened your back as Tachihara poked his head into your office. "Yo, new girl. Nakahara wants to see you."

Your brows knitted together as you looked back at him in quiet confusion.

No one had ever requested to see you in the time that you'd been here. Even in your attempts to disrupt their daily tasks, they'd still not bothered to learn your name. But now... you were expected to go see Chuuya... in his office?

"Why?" It was the only question you could think to ask.

"Dunno," Tachihara shrugged. "but I wouldn't keep him waiting. He's kind of an asshole." And with that, you were once again left alone and anxious.

You took a breath, standing up to smooth down the fabric of your skirt before venturing down the hallway.

You did your best to push Tachihara's warning out of your head, reminding yourself of the kindness Chuuya had shown you on your first day while your heels clicked across the marbled floor.

Maybe he wanted to tell you that he'd talked to Mori and that your time with Port Mafia was finally up. Maybe he wanted to hand deliver the check you'd so desperately been waiting for. Maybe he just wanted to see how you were doing. Whatever it was, you were holding onto hope that there wouldn't be any more bad news.

You let out a sharp exhale as you rounded the corner and found yourself standing in front of his office. You gave the door a light tap, fidgeting with the hem of your sleeve when he finally appeared.

His eyes traced over you slowly, his tongue clicking against the roof of his mouth as he counted not one, not two, but three undone buttons along your blouse that revealed the deep-purple push-up bra decorating your chest.

"Get in here."

His tone was clipped, dripping with what felt like vexation as he closed the door behind you.

His office was much bigger than yours, adorned with high-rise windows that overlooked the city and pristine black marble flooring that matched his leather furniture. The room was dark, just barely lit by a lamp on his desk. You wondered how it was possible for him to get any paperwork done in here but then promptly realized that with his ranking, paperwork was probably far beneath his paygrade.

Still not entirely sure how to approach the situation, you hesitantly took a seat on the over-sized armchair across from his desk.

"Quick question," he said, standing in front of you with his arms folded over his chest, his voice still riddled with irritation. "What does the phrase 'lay low' mean to you? Because I can tell you right now, this ain't fuckin' it."

Your pupils widened, his words hanging heavily in the space between you.

Your mouth opened and then closed again, too focused on the way he was staring at you to form a proper response.

"Is it -" you wavered, mustering up all the courage you had to try and play this off as innocent confusion rather than what it actually was: sarcasm. "Is it my outfit?"

If looks could kill, you would've been 6 feet under.

Chuuya's eyes darkened, a flustered hand rubbing feverishly over his face as he struggled to keep his composure. He wasn't sure if you were trying to piss him off or if you were just genuinely the dumbest girl he'd ever come in contact with.

"Yes," He said with all the restraint he could possibly manage, his teeth nearly grinding together with each syllable. “The outfits are getting out of hand. You've gotta stop."

You were playing a dangerous game, but you were slowly starting to realize that you were... winning.

"What's wrong with them?" you asked, pretending to cover your chest in embarrassment.

You wanted to hear him explain it. Hear him tell you in his own words that you couldn't wear short skirts anymore because it was causing too many unexpected erections around headquarters.

"I -" The poor redhead looked as though he was going to have an aneurysm if you kept this up much longer.

He snapped his eyes shut and let out a frustrated exhale, his hand now bawled into a fist at his side. "Listen, a lot of the guys around here have... noticed you, okay? And I can't take one more day of hearin' those fuckin' assholes talk about how they caught a glimpse of your ass in the break room. Got it? I'll buy you some new clothes if I have to. Just please, no more shirts like this, alright?"

He was actually bargaining with you. Entering the third stage of grief as he tried so hard to keep his cool. To keep his eyes locked with yours and nowhere else. To explain all of this in the nicest way he could.

It was in that moment that you realized where the real source of his trepidation was coming from.

Hearing his coworkers ogle over you was probably annoying for sure, but the more damning, infuriating fact of the matter was that he was ogling over you too. And he was fucking tired of not being able to get any work done when he knew that you were right down the hall. He was pissed that he had to come into his office every morning and lock the door just so he could jerk himself off to the idea of you.

He was in so many words begging you to stop because he wasn't sure how much longer he could take seeing so much of your body without being able bend you over his desk like he did in his mid-morning daydreams.

He was losing - both his resolve and this game at an alarming rate.

"Hmm," you hummed, toying with a pen you'd found wedged between the cushion of his chair. "Well, I'm sorry. I just like feeling pretty before I come in. I didn't know it was creating such a problem for everyone."

The wheels in Chuuya's head were spinning.

Emotions weren't his strong suit and doing these mental gymnastics with you was making him need a cigarette.

"It's -" he sighed, groaning as he forced himself to backpedal. "It's not your fault. I mean, you do look pretty, y'know. It's just... distracting, is all."

It was hard to hide your smirk.

You'd be lying if you said you didn't think he was a bit distracting himself, but he didn't need to know that. Not yet anyway.

"Okay, well," you conceded as you began to stand up. "I’ll wear a turtleneck or something tomorrow then.” You shot him a small smile as you got to your feet, "Promise."

He looked marginally relieved by your understanding. "Sounds good." He huffed, rubbing at the back of his neck while following behind you as you made your way out of his office.

But just before you reached the door, you accidentally dropped the pen you'd been fidgeting with. Bending over without warning so that your ass was right in front of him, peaking out of your skirt as he walked straight into you, his hips suddenly meeting yours.

You thought he might actually kill you this time with the guttural noise of frustration that escaped him.

He grabbed you by your shoulders the second you were upright again, spinning you around so that you were forced to face him.

“Okay, seriously." He said between gritted teeth. "Just what the fuck do you think you're doing?"

Your heart pounded in your chest, your breath hitching in your throat as you watched the unfettered anger flicker through his blue eyes.

It was a stupid move, you knew that before you did it, but you didn't expect it to draw this much of reaction out of him. His restraint was lost. Composure long gone while he waited for you to say something with his face mere inches away from yours.

"Sorry," You lied, "It slipped out of my hand so I -"

"Bullshit." He snarled. "Enough with this innocent act. What do you want out of this, huh? For every guy in Port Mafia to want to fuck you? Is that what you're gettin' at here?"

"No." Your head shook before you even had time to think about what you were about to say. "Not everyone..." Your eyes were still glued to his. "Just you."

You didn't know what you were doing anymore or where all of this recent shamelessness had come from, but there was something about being here that made you feel like you could do anything. Be anyone. You weren't sure if it was the power or the crime or the ungodly amount of money that Port Mafia was raking in, but the collective feeling of chaos that these walls housed was finally latching onto you too.

You didn't even flinch when you said it, instead continued to stare at him unapologetically, noting the way his grip had tightened around your shoulder the longer he looked back at you.

"What?"

If the wheels in his head had been spinning before, they were now fully off the ground, exploding into the air as his gaze drifted along your face. Searching intently to make sure you were actually being serious this time before he went any further.

"You really want me to fuck you that bad?" he asked, the warmth of his mouth now ghosting yours.

The question went straight to your center, wetness seeping between your legs as you nodded back at him.

Truth be told, your midmorning fantasies while cross-stitching the last few days hadn't been much different than his.

The gravity manipulator's fingers were suddenly tangled into your hair, his body forcing your back against the door while his lips collided with yours.

"Y'know you could've just asked instead of doin' all this bratty shit, right?"

His mouth was warm, his movements somehow urgent and careful at the same time as his hands wandered along your curves.

You smiled against his lips, letting out a breathy, "I'm sorry." as his palm began to graze the inside of your thigh.

"No, you're not." He smirked, sucking your bottom lip in between his teeth before biting down with just the right amount of pressure. "But you will be."

You let out a small whimper as he placed his free hand under your chin, moving your head to the side so that he could continue his descendent down your neck.

His leg wedged itself between yours, brushing against your clit while his mouth worked along your collarbone.

You were too lost in the feeling of it all to realize that he'd been leaving a trail of meticulously placed bites down the nape of your neck. Bruises in the shape of his mouth that he knew everyone would see.

"Chuuya -" you tried to protest, but it was more of a moan than an objection. "You - fuck, you can't -" You grinded helplessly against the firmness of his leg. Hips rocking back and forth, desperately trying to gain friction while he kept on nipping away at you.

"What's wrong, babe?" he purred against your sensitive skin. "You're wearin' a turtleneck tomorrow anyway, remember?" his breath fanned across your chest as he ripped the remaining buttons off of your shirt. A gloved hand palming at your chest, sliding your bra down so that your tits were fully exposed for him before you felt his tongue glide across your nipple.

Tachihara was right, he was kind of an asshole. But for some terrible reason, you were living for it. Almost embarrassed by how bad you wanted him. Wriggling against him and riding his leg. Whining while you let him leave visible marks on you and destroy the only clothing you had.

"C'mere." He pulled his head away from your chest, swiftly grabbing you by the arm and leading you back to his desk. He picked you up with ease, shoving a binder aside to sit you down in front of him.

"Spread your legs for me." His voice was heady, eyes glossed over with lust as you complied with his demands.

He held his hand up to his mouth, removing his black glove with his teeth before pushing your skirt up and sliding your underwear to the side. He bent over slightly, running two rough fingers along your clit as he watched your nails dig into the edge of his desk.

"Fuck," he groaned, still not taking his eyes off of you. He'd barely done anything and you were already soaked, your pussy practically throbbing for him. “You really do want me that bad, huh?"

“T - told you.” You whimpered, your head tilting back as he drew slow, blissful circles around you.

He kept up the same pace, basking in the way you were so easily falling apart for him.

“Chuuya, please.”

A smirk tugged viciously at the corner of his mouth, slipping a finger into you this time as your walls swallowed him. "Please what, baby?"

You may have had him in the first half, but you were now on the losing end of this game. Forgetting how to speak altogether as you watched him part your legs even further, bending all the way down to rest his head between your thighs.

You moaned at the feeling of his tongue pressing against you. The heavenly lines he was drawing uppp and downnn your center with his middle finger still sliding in and out of you. He was generous in the way he handled you, making sure he didn't miss a single spot. Lapping and slurping up every bit of cum he could as he added in another finger. Groaning against you the louder you got for him.

The only word you seemed to be able to remember was his name, repeating it over and over while your nails lodged deeper into his mahogany desk and your body shamelessly grinded against the warmth of his mouth.

You were in a delirious daze, losing yourself completely to the way he was devouring you.

He could feel you getting close too, noting the frantic rhythm of your hips. The gorgeous, fucked-out noises you were making for him. The death grip your walls suddenly had on him. He knew you were right there, right where he wanted you.

"Chuuya, 'm - I -"

Your legs were locking around his head, shaking uncontrollably as your hand ran through his hair.

He'd never admit it, but he almost could've came at the sounds you were making alone. The pouty way that you called out his name each time his fingers plunged into you was almost enough to drive him over the edge. You were so pathetic and adorable and he was determined to make everyone in Port Mafia hear just how needy you were for him.

As much as he wanted to edge you for what you'd done to him, as much as he wanted to make you beg and plead for him to let you cum, he couldn't fucking pull himself away from you. He was just as lost as you were, drowning in your cunt and not at all wanting to be saved.

His tongue didn’t leave you until he was absolutely sure that you'd ridden out every last wave of your orgasm, still pumping his digits in and out of you until you couldn’t take it anymore.

He came up for air with an exhausted smile, wordlessly coaxing your lips apart with his thumb before bringing the two fingers he had fucked you with into your mouth. Letting you clean off the blend of slick and salvia the two of you had created together.

"See how fucking good you taste?" he panted. "I think this is gonna be a real problem for both of us."

An enamored shade of pink brushed across your cheeks as he dropped down onto the chair across from you, running a tired hand through his hair.

"At least I won't be here much longer, right?" You said, playfully kicking his leg with your foot.

"Oh yeah," he smirked. "That actually reminds me..." Your eyes widened as he shifted around to dig an envelope out of his pocket. "Mori wanted me to give this to you."

Your hands trembled, opening it as delicately as you could to make sure you didn't rip anything when a check for 1,490,200 yen fell into your lap.

"Think that'll be enough to buy yourself a shirt that fits?"

Your eyes snapped towards him in disbelief, your pulse ringing through your ears as you tried to process that you'd somehow made this amount of money in a little over a week.

"Is this -" You stammered, thinking back to what he had told you when you first met. "Is this like a severance check then? ...Hush money or whatever?"

"Tragically, no. Mori wants you to stay."

Your hand instinctively flew up to your neck, covering the love-bites that the redhead had left you with, horrified at the realization that everyone was going to see them. Even more horrified at the fact that they had probably heard how you’d gotten them.

"What?"

"Yeah, he said somethin' about you how you've been 'boosting the morale' around here."

Your head felt like it was going to explode.

You had not only been marked by Chuuya Nakahara, but you were now being asked to stay in Port Mafia.

You couldn't decide which was worse.

"So... that means..."

"Yep. We'll be seein' a lot more of each other." He confirmed while checking his watch. "But hey, you better get outta here, Rando and I have a meeting in 10 minutes."

You looked down at your lack of clothing, the spit and cum that was still stuck to your skirt, the obscenely noticeable bruises that he'd so proudly gifted you with.

"Give me your shirt." you demanded.

"Nah."

The grin he shot you was so cocky, so vile, so... hot.

"Chuuya." You whisper-shouted, biting back your own stupid smile. "Be so fucking for real right now, I can’t go out there like this.”

“Shoulda thought about that before you put on that skimpy-ass outfit I guess.” He shrugged.

You hopped off his desk, straddling him in his chair as you forcefully began to undo the buttons along his collar.

The room filled with suppressed laughter, neither one of you able to contain it anymore as he finally conceded, wrestling you off of him. "Alright, alright, chill. I have extras in here, hang on."

You both stood up, your eyes locked on him while he walked over to an expensive looking armoire in the corner of the room.

He pulled a white shirt that resembled the one you were wearing earlier off of a hanger and brought it over to you, guiding your arms up so that he could put it on.

His movements were calculated, almost thoughtful as he dressed you, adjusting it so that it covered up most of the damage he'd done.

"There." He said, double-checking his work. "Now get out of here before I decide to rip that one off of you too.”

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗ Part 2! ˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

#chuuya smut #chuuya x reader #chuuya nakahara #bsd x reader #bsd smut #soukoku #bsd x you #bsd chuuya #remwrites #skk #someone please take my laptop away #chuuya nakahara x reader #chuuya nakahara bsd #nakahara chuuya #bsd x female reader

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yurmomsawh0r · 1 year

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Can I request a one shot for baki with a cute innocent girlfriend in public but when alone together or when no one is looking she's always teasing him and being a naughty girl causing baki needing to put her in her place to be a good girl👉👈

Yes of course! Lol I don’t see many Baki fics and I feel as though there should be more.

Yandere Baki, Teasing, rough sex, cum dumpster! Y/n

When you and Baki are together, you guys were the picture perfect couple. It was like you both fit each other perfectly.

A big burly man like him and a super cute girlfriend to match. People always wondered what an innocent female like you were doing with an underground fighter like him.

It was kind of funny actually. You never understood why people thought you were so innocent. Maybe it was your baby face, or just the way you carried yourself around others.

Many people have told you that they would never guess if you were a freaky type of girl. They told you that you seemed kind of like a prude.

It always made you laugh. Especially because you had a habit of teasing Baki at the worst of times.

Like now, right before his match. He looked so good training that it was getting you all hot and bothered. You just wanted to lick the sweat from his abs as he practiced his punches and stance.

He had about 25 minutes before it was his turn to fight, and you only needed about 10.

Baki was facing the mirror, so he could see you perfectly in the reflection. You thought this was perfect.

As your eyes met his, you couldn’t help but slide your hands down from your breast to the in between of your thighs.

Caressing yourself slightly, you could already feel how wet you were.

“Cut it out Y/n.” He spoke out cautiously.

But you didn’t listen. You only smiled at him innocently. “I’m not doing anything.”

“You are. Don’t play dumb.” He said, this time a little more stern which sent a heartbeat to your clit.

Smiling wider, you spread your legs even more, your skirt rising in the process. He could now see your pink lace panties and how wet they were.

You rubbed yourself harder eliciting a moan from your lips.

This caused him to stop his movements and focus on you heavily.

His breathing was getting heavier and his pupils dilated. He looked like how he did in the ring.

Focused and ready to devour his opponent. In this case it was you.

“You just love testing me, don’t you?”

He stalked towards like a predator. It was starting to get you riled up and maybe even a little bit scared.

you started to close your legs, but he quickly smacked your thigh and shook his head.

“Don’t stop now. You started this and now I’m gonna finish it.”

“W-wait what about your match Baki?”

You moaned when his thumb rubbed circles on your clit faster than you did. “Don’t worry about me. Worry about what I’m going to do to you.”

Baki grabbed you and placed you against the wall with your legs around him. “Im getting tired of you always playing these games with me. Especially before a match. It’s very distracting.” He told you as he pulled his boxers down slightly.

His length rubbing against your core.

“Okay, I’ll stop.” You tried. “You said that last time.”

Baki then pulled your soaked panties to the side and slid his entire length inside of you.

You felt so full and he was so deep. He wasted no time thrusting up into you like his life depended on it.

You hoped nobody would come in and hear you. Your wails bouncing off the walls as he fucked you.

“Fuck Baki!”

He knew he had to make this quick. He only had about 15 more minutes before he had to be out there. More determined than ever, he fucked you harder and faster. Loving the way you clung to him while screaming his name. He could feel your cum sliding down to his balls the more he pounded into you.

You felt him imprinting himself into you and you loved it.

“I-I love you!” You cried out, making Baki laugh.

He didn’t say it back. A way to make you feel humiliated, but he did love you. He just wanted to punish you for now.

A few more thrust before he pulled out quickly, dropping you onto the floor, jerking all his cum onto your face and body.

He grunted until the last drop feel from him.

“Stay like this until I get back, don’t you dare move either. I’m not done with you.”

Was all he said before pulling up his pants and heading out to his match.

#baki hanma #baki hanma smut #Baki smut #smut #anime smut #baki x reader #yandere baki #baki the grappler #baki x reader smut

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blueiscoool · 3 months

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Archaeologists Unearth Remarkably Preserved Marble Statue of Hermes in Bulgaria

Archaeologists led by Prof. Dr. Ludmil Vagalinski have unearthed a remarkably well-preserved marble statue in the ancient city of Heraclea Sintika, near Petrich, Bulgaria. The discovery, announced by the municipality of Petrich, was found within the underground sewer known as "Cloaca Maxima". Efforts are underway to delicately excavate the statue without causing damage due to its exceptional state of preservation.

Standing over two meters tall, the statue is believed to depict Hermes, a prominent deity in the region during ancient times. Prof. Dr. Vagalinski, speaking to "Archaeologia Bulgarica," expressed cautious excitement about the find, noting its significance not only as the best-preserved statue discovered in Heraclea Sintika but also in all of Bulgaria. He suggests that the statue was likely buried by city inhabitants following a major earthquake in the 4th century AD, possibly to safeguard their religious heritage during the rise of Christianity.

Archaeologia Bulgarica shared updates on the excavation progress via Facebook, revealing that the statue, crafted from a single marble block in the 2nd century AD, remains partially encased in dirt. Archaeologists have noted its resemblance to other depictions of Hermes, placing it within a known iconographic type. Similar statues are rare globally, making this discovery particularly unique for Bulgaria.

Plans are underway to carefully extract the statue from the Cloaca Maxima and transport it to the museum in Petrich, where it will undergo necessary restoration before being displayed alongside other archaeological finds. Prof. Vagalinski emphasized the challenges of preserving the ancient city's structures, especially those located on private property, where permanent conservation measures are limited. He highlighted the unexpected nature of the discovery, which came to light during routine inspections of the canal's condition.

The excavation team, which first uncovered ancient structures in the area six years ago, had placed protective barriers to secure the site. Upon closer examination, marble remnants were noticed, leading to the gradual unveiling of the statue of Hermes. Work on fully exposing and documenting the statue will continue in the coming days, offering new insights into the religious and artistic practices of ancient Heraclea Sintika.

#Archaeologists Unearth Remarkably Preserved Marble Statue of Hermes in Bulgaria #ancient city of Heraclea Sintika #Petrich Bulgaria #Cloaca Maxima #marble #marble statue #ancient artifacts #archeology #archeolgst #history #history news #ancient history #ancient culture #ancient civilizations #roman history #roman empire #roman art #ancient art

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circeyoru · 7 months

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The Raven’s Deer

[Alastor x Zestial’s Little sibling!Reader]

Part 1 (here) — Part 2

Zestial speaks in [archaic dialect redolent of early modern English], so something like Shakespearean English and you speak that same

Where as Zestial is a bat-like demon, you’re a raven demon with two pairs of retractable black feathered wings on your back. Your appearance was similar to that of an angel, but it was more of a mocking to them since you have an inky substance that would float around you

Different to Zestial who instills fear with just a look and/or his appearance, you tone it down and is arguably the more approachable of the two. Though others can’t see this as a free pass to bully you as you were more prone to violence than Zestial too

You do speak ‘funny’ as the modern sinners would whisper and sometimes try to instantly translate your words with their phones, especially those that were unlucky enough to meet your shopping requirements. But you can speak ‘normally’ in a way that everyone understands. You just don’t to watch them struggle more

Your big brother and you rule over your batch of souls in a small district that you two share and guard, your brother overseeing a mansion while you oversee the surrounding forest. Your people were your silent servants with powers that were useful to you and have signed contracts with you, soul-binding or otherwise

Being as old (do NOT use that word since you died young) ancient as you were, you’ve seen your fair share of the rise and fall of overlords. Though not one as interesting as Alastor. At first, you were merely enjoying some wine while you read whatever was in your collection. Then you heard screams of agony and pain in your room. You were positive there was no one being tortured at the moment, so where did it come from?

The radio had come to life on a shelve of yours. You twitched your fingers, bringing the radio closer to you, the screams were indeed from the device before you. But you never turned it on and this was the first time you heard such music. You left it playing to see when it would stop, to your delight, it never did

Well, until the culprit behind such an act came forward. The screams died down a bit, but not entirely gone as he made his name known. “Greetings, sinners and demons of Hell! I am Alastor, The Radio Demon!”

“Fitting.” You mumbled out as you listened, from then on, you’d leave the radio playing. Sometimes Alastor was hosting and other times it was those screams. You even talked about it with Zestial, expressing your fascination to this new demon

Your older brother, growing curious and intrigued, asked for Carmilla to host a meeting to see who were still surviving. As luck would have it, it was the day after the extermination. The pair of you were positive Alastor had been safe and alive since he was having a wonderful time broadcasting, all the while Carmilla, Zestial, and you listened and done your own activities in your safe underground room deep within the forest

Your ravens had been the ones to collect the angelic weapons for Carmilla to experiment and create her weapons, even perfecting her fighting style. Since you were more physical and violent than Zestial, you happily trained with Carmilla, even helping her. In exchange, she made sure your wings were even deadier than before, now having angelic coat. Your wings were your weapons

The meeting was uneventful to say the least, Zestial and you didn’t need it to see what Overlord was alive since Zestial could name every demon behind the scream on the radio. See, he was the one with more information and a nack for those things. The pair of you really do complete each other

What caught your interest (and maybe slight fancy) was Alastor. You and Zestial arrived right behind Carmilla and took your seats side by side, ignoring all the Overlords you passed by. Their aura and presence were lacking to say the least, it was no wonder Alastor could overthrow these bunch. You noticed Husk and Niffty missing though

The formal meeting between you and alastor came only when you were delivering some demon bodies to Cannibal Town. You dropped by where Rosie would be without checking if she had company, so you made quite an impression

Alastor blinked with his head tilted as Rosie suddenly got up from her seat and opened one of the bigger windows. Then you appeared, your wings undercovering from the cocoon you wrapped yourself around to enter through the window without breaking it. “Oh, so nice to see you!” Rosie hugged you, careful to avoid your wings even after you shifting it away from her. You returned the sentiment. “I always told you there’s no need to drop bodies for my people.”

“T wast a valorous way to ex’rcise. (It was a good way to exercise)” You waved it off. “Thy people w’re joyous to seeth me anyways, so I’m m’re than joyous to giveth those folk a valorous meal. (Your people were happy to see me anyways, so I’m more than happy to give them a good meal)”

“Oh, where are my manners? Here, allow me to introduce you to our rising Overlord friend.” Rosie guided you over to where Alastor was seat, he immediately got up when you neared. “This is Alastor, The Radio Demon, I’m should you’ve heard. And this is The Nightmare Raven.”

“Quite a pleasure to be meeting such a legend, I’ve heard tales of you!” Alastor bowed a bit, then taking your hand to kiss it. “Never in my weirdest dreams would I think we’d be meeting so causally, my dear.”

“Charm’d I’m sure. It’s a pleasure to beest meeting thee as well. Thy radio did broadcast given thee quite the nameth, broth’r and I has’t been listening and wast ent’rtain’d. (Charmed I’m sure. It’s a pleasure to be meeting you as well. Your radio broadcast given you quite the name, brother and I have been listening and was entertained)” You smiled back

Turns out, you and Alastor hit it off quite well and enjoyed your time well enough that Alastor started acting more intimate behind closed doors. A relationship even Zestial didn’t mind but he sure as hell threatened Alastor a bad time if your heart was broken in any way, shape, or form. Alastor swore, “I’d never leave such a beauty and terror alone. Why, I’d think your lovely sibling is worthy of all things!”

LIAR

The first year of his disappearance, you thought he was busy with a human contract up above. But there was none. The second year, you thought he was perhaps taking a break from interacting with you since you were a bit more clingy than he’d like. The third year, you thought an exterminator got to him. The fourth year, you accepted his disappearance and broke down. The fifth year, you were suddenly active when you caught wind that Husk and Niffty were alive but still bound by contracts, you searched high and low, but no Alastor. Not even his radio played new screams. The sixth year, Zestial comforted you and suggested you drop your interest in Alastor. The seventh year, you locked yourself in your forest. Only leaving and observing the city by your ravens

Alastor flinched when Zestial spoke of you, he eyed the raven on the ancient Overlord’s shoulder, it was on the side away from him, so he was a bit grateful. Perhaps it was a luck thing that you weren’t joining the meeting and Zestial came in your place with the raven. He did feel a shiver when Zestial spoke of your state, how you were not yourself and more drawn back and distant

He honestly never expected to leave for so long. 7 years, 7 exterminations. The times after the two of you met, both of you were tolerant of the other under your shared interest and use of the other. It was merely beneficial, like business partners. Yet he found himself more adaored by you as time passed. He had planned to confess and solidify the relationship between you two, but then came his disappearance

“May I see the darling?” Alastor asked, begged. He needed to make things right

Before Zestial could answer, or perhaps he was waiting for your cue, the raven on his shoulder screamed loudly, motioning its head as if to peck at Alastor. Then came Zestial’s cold tone, different from the previous carefree one when he greeted Alastor. “I believeth mine own sibling hast nay w’rds ‘r timeth to spareth f’r thee, Alastor. (I believe my sibling has no words or time to spare for you, Alastor)”

Note: Yes. I took a break from the requests. But you can still send your ideas for me to write. It's just taking time for me to come up with ideas on how to write it~ I love reading and writing some of your interesting and silly ideas~ Keep them coming!

Circe Y.

MASTERLIST

#alastor imagine #alastor x reader #alastor x y/n #alastor x you #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor headcanons #hazbin hotel fanfiction #alastor #hazbin hotel oneshots #Circe's Nighty Writings #The Raven’s Deer

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intuitive-revelations · 4 months

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The near future in the Doctor Who universe sure gets dire doesn't it? Especially if Mad Jack / Roger ap Gwilliam is still part of history.

I thought I'd have a bit of fun listing things out, combining as many sources as possible. Turns out he fits in shockingly well with what we know. There's a lot missing here or cut out, and for obvious reasons it's very UK / Europe focused, but nonetheless:

[ID: Scene from The Christmas Invasion showing Harriet Jones on BBC News. The news ticker reads "PM HEALTH SCARE", "Unfit for duty?", and references a "SECRET GOVERNMENT MOLE" and a quote: "BLOOD ON [HER HANDS]".]

2006-2021 (obviously the past now, but still noting for the resulting temporal and political butterfly effect) - In the original timeline, Harriet Jones remains Prime Minister for 3 consecutive terms, presumably 15 years assuming no snap election was called, referred to as a 'golden age' [World War Three]. The Tenth Doctor deliberately changes history to cause her deposal [The Christmas Invasion], leading to numerous disastrous terms in the meantime, including those of Harold Saxon [The Sound of Drums et al.], Brian Green (who tried to appease the 456) [Children of Earth], Boris Johnson (an auton host of the Nestene Consciousness) [Rose (novelisation)], and Jo Patterson (responsible for deploying cloned Dalek defence drones in the UK's streets) [Revolution of the Daleks].

[ID: Scene from Revolution of the Daleks. A 'defence drone' Dalek is used to support anti-riot police in a test, dispersing protestors with mock tear gas.]

2010s-2030s - The European Union gradually integrates further, eventually becoming the European Zone / Eurozone, a global superpower which competes with the USA through the 21st century. The UK eventually forms part of the bloc [Trading Futures].

It's likely that Harriet Jones's deposal led to this and related events being delayed or erased, with Brexit (driven by, among others, one of Jones's successors in the new timeline) reducing european unity. Most notably, Ramón Salamander's rise to power occurs now not in the 2010s [The Enemy of the World], but in the 2030s [Doctor Who and the Enemy of the World]. There are other events that are seemingly delayed by ~20 years by changes to the timeline, including future events like the dictatorship of Mariah Learman [The Time of the Daleks, Trading Futures], and yet also possibly past events like the death of Queen Elizabeth II [Battlefield, The Longest Night et al.], which may suggest something else (eg. the Time War) may be responsible.

~2030 - During a time of rising global tensions [73 Yards], Ramón Salamander convinces a group of scientists in an underground shelter endurance experiment that nuclear war has broken out on the surface. They are convinced to generate artificial "natural" disasters to fight back against the enemy. Between this and ongoing climate change, several global food sources collapse as a result, including Canada and Ukraine's corn and flour production [The Enemy of the World].

2031 - Tensions culminate in the "Great Russian War". Despite posturing, not a single nuclear weapon is fired, at least by NATO [73 Yards]. This may be later considered World War III [Trading Futures].

~2032-2035 - Following the war, tensions rise again, now between the Eurozone and the USA [Trading Futures], possibly in reaction to actions (or lack thereof?) taken by NATO during the war [73 Yards]. Both send separate peacekeeping forces to conflict in North Africa. Meanwhile, Italy is engaged in civil war [Trading Futures].

[ID: Scene from The Enemy of the World, showing Ramón Salamander.]

Over the decade, Ramón Salamander rises in power in the World Zone Authority, using his patented "Sun Store" satellite technology to aid the growth of crops by controlling sunlight over agricultural regions. In the background, he murders and blackmails officials to place loyalists into powerful positions, with the goal of ruling over the World Zone Authority as a dictator. Salamander's treachery is later discovered and he disappears [The Enemy of the World].

2037 - 2042 - Several militia declare wars of Independence from the USA. Notably, Phoenix, Arizona is destroyed in a terrorist attack. While the country largely persists after the conflicts, some territories seem to successfully secede - with, for example, a Montana Republic seemingly being in existence in 2054 [Alien Bodies].

2038 - The World Zones Accord is signed. This is later considered to have reduced the United Nations to a 'joke' compared with the World Zone Authority [Alien Bodies]. Given the extensive power it gives to the WZA, this was likely originally part of Salamander's plan, but due to his disappearance he is not around to reap the rewards [The Enemy of the World].

2039 - A group of Mexican astronauts studying minerals on the Moon go missing [Kill the Moon].

~2030s - 2040s - The Earth begins to experience major climate change effects, including "appalling storm conditions" which harm agriculture [The Waters of Mars]. The ice caps melt and flood much of the Earth [K9] with nations like the Netherlands ending up entirely flooded [St Anthony's Fire]. Some regions experience corrosive acid rain [Cat's Cradle: War Head, Strange Loops]. One summer sees Britain experience a 22 week drought. At this time, the Eurozone closes its borders to millions of North African and Baltic Sea refugees [Hothouse]. This time period may be known as the "Oil Apocalypse" [The Waters of Mars].

[ID: Scene from K9 Episode 13: Aeolian. Big Ben stands in the middle of a colossal storm of wind and rain.]

With Earth's ecosystems collapsing [Davros], humanity begin to realise it's facing extinction [The Waters of Mars]. An artificial cooling agent is spread in the atmosphere to semi-successfully combat the effects, but leads to dramatic side-effects, including freezing some areas of the globe. This is known as the "Great Cataclysm" [K9].

2041 - A three-human team, including Adelaide Brooke, lands on Mars for the first time [The Waters of Mars]. However, with this accomplishment, and increasing turbulence on Earth, Humanity gradually loses interest in space exploration [Kill the Moon].

Before 2045 - Around this time, the UK falls into a dictatorship ruled by the "Director", head of a military council that has allegedly (secretly?) controlled the government since 2028 [Britain Protests]. It is possible that this Director was previously the "Minister of War" for previous governments [Before the Flood].

2045 - The World Zones Authority evolves into a World Government, with Nikita Bandranaik being elected President. The UK is not part of the organisation [This is 2065].

2046-2050s - The Director is overthrown [Down with the Director] and the rest of the government "collapses in shame" [73 Yards]. Some of the revolutionaries celebrate now being "masters of [their] own country" [Down with the Director]. Despite the hopes of the World Government for international integration, this nationalistic streak continues.

[ID: Scene from 73 Yards. Roger ap Gwilliam, with an Albion Party ribbon on his chest declares victory on BBC News, live from Kennington High in London. Headline reads "LANDSLIDE VICTORY FOR ALBION PARTY: Majority of 92 predicted. Roger ap Gwilliam declared Prime Minister."]

Roger ap Gwilliam is elected Prime Minister, with the far-right nationalistic Albion Party gaining a majority of 92 MPs [73 Yards]. While his government does take the step to officially join the World Government senate [Down with the Director], he seeks greater independence from other nations. One of his first actions is to expand the UK's nuclear arsenal, purchasing missiles from Pakistan and withdrawing from NATO. In his term, the world is brought to the brink of nuclear war [73 Yards], likely in the pre-2050s "Euro Wars" [The Time of the Daleks].

In this time, the "Department", a (private?) multinational security organisation is born, based primarily in the UK. They gain broad powers, which they use to control populations with propaganda and use of "CCPC"s: robotic law enforcement notorious for their surveillance and brutality. Despite its recent revolution, the country is rendered practically a police state [K9].

[ID: Scene from K9 Episode 1: Regeneration. CCPCs, hulking police robots, march down a dark alley.]

2049 - The Moon starts to dramatically gain mass, causing massive tides on the Earth, flooding entire cities. In a last ditch at survival, humanity plans to try and destroy the Moon using an array of nuclear bombs. Despite the people of Earth being offered the vote on what to do by turning off their lights, it appears the decision is made on a national level, with lights going off grid-by-grid. Nonetheless, the Moon is allowed to hatch, leaving behind a new less massive egg "moon" with minimal further destruction [Kill the Moon].

[ID: Scene from Kill the Moon. The Moon hatches in the background, as the TARDIS stands by the sea.]

Humanity's interest in space exploration returns [Kill the Moon], starting a new space race. Among these projects, Australia begins constucting a space elevator, Spain a project called "SpaceLink", while Germany and Russia each begin a series of new Moon missions. The Philippines are rumoured to be planning their own landing on Mars [The Waters of Mars].

~2050 - The UK Government (ap Gwilliam's?) is couped once more, by General Mariah Learman. With the King's permission, elections are suspended for at least a couple years, with her ruling over a "benevolent dictatorship". She is later abducted and forcibly mutated by the Daleks [The Time of the Daleks]. Despite the previous description, her promotion of Shakespeare in schools is remembered as the only good thing about her rule [Trading Futures]. (Note: As mentioned prior, it's likely that Learman's rule may have been delayed as Salamander's was. This is suggested by the mention of her in Trading Futures, set seemingly ~2030s or earlier, despite The Time of the Daleks taking place around the 2050s.)

~2050s - The Gravitron is built on the new Moon. This is used to artificially control the tides and weather [The Moonbase]. It likely also is intended to study and monitor the new Moon for future changes [Kill the Moon].

[ID: Scene from The Moonbase, giving an external shot of the base.]

2058 - 2059 - Bowie Base One is established: humanity's first colony on another planet and an international collaboration between the UK, USA, Russia, Germany, Turkey, South Korea, Lithuania, Australia, and Pakistan. One year later, it is mysteriously destroyed in a deliberately triggered nuclear explosion. In the original timeline, there were no survivors. However, after the interference of the Time Lord Victorious, the true story is eventually told on Earth. Regardless "a veil of darkness" sweeps over the planet over the next few years. [The Waters of Mars], as international tensions heat up once more... [Total Eclipse of the Heart].

[ID: Scene from The Waters of Mars, showing an internet news website. Various articles appear focused on the Bowie Base One incident, including "SURVIVORS STORY - BROOKE SAVED EARTH", "THE MYTHICAL DOCTOR", "BROOKE'S HEROIC ACTIONS SAVE EARTH", and "HOW THE COUPLE ESCAPED MARS". The feature image shows the two survivors: Yuri Kerenski and Mia Bennett.]

2060s - The "Great War" breaks out on Earth, involving every country on Earth. This is likely World War IV. Details are vague, but it ultimately ends in a ceasefire, when it's realised the conflict is risking Earth's habitability [Total Eclipse of the Heart].

#Doctor Who #DW Spoilers #Doctor Who Spoilers #73 Yards #DW Theory #Canon-Welding #Long Post

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dawn-moths · 2 months

Text

Wriothesley x Female Reader

word count: 1,200+

18+ content! minors dni! smut, dubcon, minimal/no prep, rough sex, sub/dom dynamics.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

In the soft, yellow dimness that floods the room of his office, Wriothesley lets out a hiss through clenched teeth. His hips are pressed into yours, sharp hipbones pinning you against the surface of his desk, every slip of paperwork and sharp-nibbed pen swept away and sent clattering to the floor in his haste to get you exactly where he wanted you.

You let out a soft mewl as his teeth scrape across the rise of your throat, tracing down to one of your collar bones and landing at your shoulder as his grip around your wrists tightens to keep both your hands pinned above your head.

The Warden lets out a cold chuckle, nakedly amused by your struggle as you feebly attempt to break free of his hold. “Ah-ah,” he chides, flexing his grip around your wrists hard enough to bruise the flesh and grind the bones, earning a whimper and a wince from you as you go still beneath him. “I thought we agreed you’d take your punishment without a fight?”

He raises his head, looks you in the eyes, that glacier’s stare of his sending a shiver down your spine, the scar curved beneath his right eye shining faintly as it catches the artificial glow of dim light through the damp, industrial dark. He presses his clothed cock, which has become painfully hard, firmer against your sensitive core, skirt bunched around your waist, leaving only a thin layer of soaked lace between you and so much pleasure.

Shamelessly, as if testing him, you attempt to grind harder against the bulge in his trousers, chasing friction as you whine out a pitiful little, “C’mon… You know that’s not fair…”

Wriothesley smirks, swishes some of that tousled dark hair from his eyes. “Given your offense,” he says, “I’d say this is far more generous than you deserve, sweetheart.”

You open your mouth to protest— to tell him that the only reason you’d snuck into his office (broken into, more like, given you’d had to pick three sets of locks along the way) was to win a bet and most definitely not to procure your release forms three months early despite already having your sentence reduced on grounds of good behavior, impatient to step out into the sun again after so much time spent underground. But you suppose you’d gotten a little too cocky. And, besides, you really should’ve known better.

Thievery had been what had gotten you sentenced to two years in the Fortress of Meropide in the first place.

“But I’ll cut you a deal…” the Warden offered, his lips pressed close to your ear, cool breath wafting across your neck, the chill a welcome reprieve from so much heat that had been building between your two bodies as he teased you to damn near torturous lengths. “You just admit what we both know is the truth, and maybe I’ll let you off easy, hm?” You exhaled a shuddering breath, feeling the burden of forbidden desire hazing through your brain, making it hard to think. “So what’ll it be?” He asked, each syllable of his ultimatum laced with condescending manipulation.

You knew, both from first hand experience and the warnings you’d heard passed around by others, that the Warden was particularly fond of playing these kind of mind games.

The best thing to do, especially in your case, was to just count your losses and admit defeat.

“Alright…” you sighed. “Fine. I was breaking in to steal my release papers and forge your signature to get out early. There. You happy now?”

To answer your question, Wriothesley grinded down, mean and harsh against you, eliciting a needy moan from your throat, destroying any and all of your prior obstinance as arousal coursed thick and pleading through your core.

“Gotta admit,” he said, his voice a little more strained than before as he tried to subdue his own desires, “you’re pretty brazen to think you’d get away with it.”

In truth, you didn’t think you’d get away with it. A piece of you had secretly hoped he’d find you. Had secretly hoped he’d back you into a corner and pin you against a wall or a table or a bed like he was doing right now.

But you couldn’t tell him that.

What fun would that be?

“But a deal’s a deal,” he concludes, easing off of you only enough to undo his belt, silver buckle clacking against itself and serving as the bell to toll your fate. He pulls his aching cock free, the sight of its blushing red tip causing your next breath to catch. He’s bigger than you were prepared for, and you shudder at the thought of it bullying its way inside you.

Wriothesley slightly cocks his head to one side and inquires through a crooked smile, a dangerous flash of teeth, “Though, you don’t really want to be let off easy, do you?”

You still beneath him, eyes widening a fraction as you try and subdue the thick swallow that threatens to bob in your throat, exposing your fear.

Cracking a nervous grin, your voice only trembles a little bit as you reply in what would’ve been a smooth coo, if not for the runaway pulse hammering beneath your ribs, “Knew all along, did ya? Well… I guess I have to work on my acting skills then.”

Wriothesley slips two thick, calloused fingers in through the side of your panties and tugs the slick fabric aside. His touch makes your body jolt, your blood humming with trepidation.

“Nah…” he breathes against your neck, leaning in close again to keep your view of what he has planned for you blocked, trapping you in even more suspense and keeping you at his mercy, just where he likes you. “Your act was actually half decent…”

He waits until you exhale your next breath, then buries himself inside of you down to the hilt in one quick, sharp thrust, punching what air remained from your lungs before a startled gasp clipped off onto a yelp punctuates the quiet room.

It takes a moment for him to regain his composure, though feels a sick sense of pride when he pulls back to take a good look at you, admiring how small and helpless you are under his control.

Finally, he speaks again, and when he does it’s a teasing statement of, “Next time though, let me in on it beforehand so I can make sure and let the guards who patrol this area take an early lunch break.” He lets go of your wrists, allows you to grip both his biceps in your trembling little hands, desperate for something to anchor yourself to. “Wouldn’t want anyone to start a rumor I give special treatment to my favorites…”

He covers your mouth with one hand, muffling your next moan as he begins to move, slow and savoring. Sadistic in the way he’s spurred on by the mist of tears welling in your eyes, your tight little hole struggling to accommodate the sudden fullness his cock provides, the sting of the stretch making you fear you’ll end up being split in two by the time this is over.

But it doesn’t matter how rough he wants to be. You’ll take what he gives you and be grateful for it.

And, who knows, maybe, when the time comes, the Warden won’t want to let you out early on good behavior after all.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

#he’s been on my mind so much lately ugh #had to write just a lil something for him #wriothesley #genshin impact #wriothesley x reader #wriothesley x you #wriothesley x y/n #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x you #genshin impact x y/n #genshin x reader #genshin x you #genshin x y/n #genshin impact smut #genshin smut #wriothesley smut #drabble

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elbiotipo · 3 months

Note

There is a trope in older sci-fi that Mars was once green planet like Earth, but then something happened and it turned into a dessert where water is scarce, but biosphere ultimately survived.

Like, is there any way something like this can happen realistically on any planet? Maybe not water disappearing of the planet but largely going deep underground so it's not accessible to surface inhabitants?

Well, it IS what literally happened to Mars. Actually, what happened, or what it's believed happened, is that Mars didn't have enough of a magnetic field to prevent the solar wind from stripping away its atmosphere, and it didn't have a large mass like the Earth to keep it in any case. Incidentally, this is why the Moon is also lifeless despite being in the "habitable zone" where it could have liquid water: it simply doesn't have a magnetic field or is massive enough (despite being so big it could count as the Solar System's 5th inner "planet"). Another thing against Mars is its apparent lack of plate tectonics, which, at least on Earth-like worlds, require oceans as a "lubricant", so to speak. Without plate tectonics and only with ocassional volcanoes, the Martian atmosphere and its CO2 could not regenerate (and this is vital for keeping greenhouse gases, especially for a world far away from the Sun like Mars), so it's the way it is today.

However, this was apparently a slow process. Oceans on Mars apparently existed as far as 2 billion years ago, at the same time Earth also had life. It's possible that the own circulation of the water in the ocean managed it to keep from freezing, even if the atmosphere was cold. This is all very on the air right now but if this is true, it means that the Solar System had 2 worlds with liquid water oceans. Maybe 3, the situation at Venus is not well known.

And indeed, like you said, water doesn't just "dissapear", it has to go somewhere. In the case of Mars, it froze underground and on the ice caps, or otherwise was blown away as water vapor as the atmosphere depleted (with not atmospheric pressure, it can't remain as liquid). This is still hugely debated though. Every time something like water flows or subsurface lakes is discovered there's endless debate on what's going on Mars, but I think it's fair to say there must be lots of frozen water there.

In worldbuilding, you could indeed have a desert world this way. It could be that intelligent life evolved at the last days of it as an oceanic world, with the water cycle mostly locked in glaciers and sub-surface ice, and besides the equator everything else is cold, barren desert. In fact, Mars is basically this. If it had a breathable atmosphere it would resemble such a setting.

However, one has to wonder how would life would survive in such a setting, if there's no oceans with phytoplankton or forests and vegetation to replenish oxygen. Vegetation is very hardy, many deserts that aren't dunes or rock have some. But there are limits.

Arrakis from Dune had this same logical problem and Frank Herbert knew it. He solved it by making the sandworms (MAY HIS PASSAGE CLEANSE THE WORLD. MAY HE KEEP THE WORLD FOR HIS PEOPLE) produce oxygen. This makes a lot of sense. After all, Dune is covered in dunes, and sand is made mostly of silicon dioxide. So if the digestive processes of the sandworm digest silicon dioxide, this would give a lot of oxygen. How many sandworms and at what rate would they produce oxygen is debatable, but there is a working mechanism. Some funky stuff like that might work in places like Tatooine too. But I believe even some small oceans or places with vegetation would be able to sustain an oxygen atmosphere, especially if the atmosphere was oxygenated already. It's a careful balance though.

Another way to get desert worlds is to look at the future of our own Earth. Even before the Sun becomes a red giant, the Sun will increase in brightness and the temperature will rise. One billion years from now, most carbon dioxide on the atmosphere will be sequestered by erosion and geological processes, and if not replenished by volcanoes and tectonics (which are predicted to slow down too, especially with the oceans deplenishing), there would be little photosythesis with only hardy plants surviving, most life will only survive in the poles or at high altitudes, it's likely that water life will also start going extinct without dissolved oxygen. The oceans will also eventually start to evaporate and there are two options here: Earth might become a hellish greenhouse world like Venus, if they evaporate slowly and it remains in the atmosphere, or the evaporation might be rapid, which might make, as I understand it, a brief wet period, and then desert as it desintegrates in the upper atmosphere. It all depends on how long tectonics go on (as continents grow, deserts will too) and if there are other events, though. This is still hugely debated, currently I'm reading The Life And Death of Planet Earth which talks about such happy topics as these.

There's also another posibility, that your planet just wasn't formed with enough water and atmosphere in the first place. It's some point of debate on how much water and atmospheric pressure an Earth-like planet needs to sustain life. But you could concievable have a much lesser atmosphere and surface water than Earth, and this atmosphere would remain 'sunk' in lowlands, valleys, craters, etc. separated by lifeless highlands (or highlands with very sparse extremophile life). This might make some really strange stuff, but it would be great for a speculative biology project.

(if you liked this post and would like to read more worldbuilding stuff, consider tipping me here!)

#worldbuilding #space #mars #astrobiology

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naomikozura · 3 months

Text

Playing with Fire: Chapter 1

Jason Todd (Red Hood) x Fem!Reader (Criminal)

Trope: Enemies to Lovers, Forbidden Romance

Warnings: Mention of illegal criminal activities, strong language, use of weapons, violence, assassination, mention of drug trade, mention of harassment, ending mentions shooting someone (let me know if I missed any!)

WC: 10K

Summary: It's been six years since you left your past life, finding your way to working with one of Gotham's most known crime lords. You have risen in the ranks but now your position and work is being threatened by the rise of a new criminal taking hits on your Boss' operations. Is this new nuisance a momentary issue or a long-term conflict?

Series Masterlist

Prologue || Chapter 2

6 Years Later

The buzzing of Gotham brought you out of your trance, the rush of cars and the blurred conversations of the people around you snapping you back to reality. You looked up from the magazine you had been staring at while you drank your coffee, the warmth of the cup burning your hand that you had to wipe it against your pants to lessen the burn. Your eyes focused on the big print on the stack of papers.

The Dark Knight Saves the City From Chaos Once Again.

Saving the city. This city was far from being saved, and yet people believed Batman fixed everything that was wrong with this place. It’s been six years and the pain still felt fresh. You ignored the burning in your chest from the resentment and turned to look out the window. It was raining, the streets covered in water and filled with people going about their days while trying not to get soaked. You closed the book you had in front of you before throwing away your coffee, pushing through the door as the rain started to downpour even more. You decided against the umbrella, you didn’t mind the rain on your body but your apartment was a close walk away. Close to the corporate offices of Gotham, but far away enough that you could easily sneak into the darkest corners of the city, the parts of the city that were filled with criminals, street dealers, and the underground informants.

This side of the city could possibly be the worst possible place for anyone to be, but you weren’t worried about getting caught in anything that could harm you. With your position, you were practically untouchable.

You pushed the door to your apartment open, throwing your bag on the brown coffee table and kicking off your shoes. The apartment wasn’t anything crazy, it was a simple one bedroom that gave you somewhere to live and spend your days off at. It was more than enough for just you. You walked over to the small living room, turning on the TV to have some background noise as you turned back to the kitchen to wash the dishes.

The news reporters scripted another story about the crime rates dropping and dramatically pushing the vigilante stories for years, only specific names standing out to the general public, especially the Dark Knight himself. You found yourself annoyed by the constant stories about the man, but you had to hand it to him, he was doing what no one else could and for that you had to commend him. Though, you’d never say that outloud considering your position. Saying something like commending the Batman in front of your boss would get you killed. Tortured even.

You had to play the game, deal your hand correctly in order to survive. And for the past 6 years that’s exactly what you did. You trained, became smarter, more skilled, more manipulative, more strategic and calculated. Everything you did was to survive. Your loyalties to no one but yourself and the man that took you off the street when he saw your potential. You owed it all to him. Afterall, he was the reason you had some sort of freedom and rights in the underground. Working with men like him, people like him, made living in Gotham tolerable.

You had protection, a stable income, respect from the underground workers, and a hand in every meeting and operation your boss ran. You had quickly become his right hand woman, it gained you a lot of respect from his partners while many others despised that a kingpin could let a woman rise in the ranks so easily and be influenced. Some questioned the integrity of your upbringing and loyalty, suspecting that you manipulated or seduced the man, but both you and your boss knew you didn’t need to manipulate him to prove you were a genius, skilled and talented in the art of deception, technological systems, and most importantly: killing people.

You gazed over to the clock on the counter, the time having slipped from you as you turned off the TV, heading to your bathroom to change into your night attire. You pulled out a pair of leather shorts, lifting them as they hit your waist and pulling on a tight fitting white shirt that showed off the tone of your stomach. You quickly pulled on your black combat boots before tugging on the black leather jacket hanging from the coat rack by the door. You liked to dress in dark clothing, helped keep the mystery alive and gave you more confidence to reject disgusting men if they tried to get near you.

You found your way out the window, dropping down into the back alley that led over to the east-side of town, making sure you had your gun strapped to your side under the jacket, your collapsed bow staff in the hidden compartment of your belt and your dagger in the sheath on your thigh. Even with your protection, you stayed prepared, afterall you were still a woman in a crime ridden city where you worked for one of the kingpins of the underground. Anyone could target you at any given second. You getting to the Boss alive was important, but staying alive through all the jobs he had you do was even more dire.

You reached the dark building, the blue lights illuminating the outside as you walked in through the secret entrance behind the building. Only the closest workers to the Boss knew about it and even then you needed access in. Luckily for you, you had access to everything having to do with the Boss, even his own personal records and will.

You let the music vibrate all around you, the smell of alcohol and smoke filling the air as you try to move through the hallways of the nightclub. Once you reached the far side of the room, you wandered up the staircase, following the long set of stairs up to the room hidden at the top of the building. You waited patiently before looking and seeing the guards as they opened the door for you, the dim light inside welcoming you as you stepped through the door, the guards closing it and remaining outside as you walked over to the circle of couches that were organized meeting style.

Boss sat in one chair while he had a guest sitting across from him. An ugly, charred looking man who was no stranger to you, but you remained distant for a reason. The Boss didn’t know of your resentment, that was better kept for yourself. Better to keep your enemies far away, especially when it comes to the crime lords of Gotham.

“Y/n”, Boss called out your name, your eyes meeting him as he raised a hand, a glass of whiskey in it as he motioned towards you then took a sip. “Come sit.”

“I wasn’t interrupting was I?”, you asked as you made your way around the sitting area, the Boss sitting in the middle of the couch while you sat on the arm right next to him, your body in a neutral stance. Relaxed but ready to move if need be. You always had to stay prepared no matter how trustworthy someone might seem.

You watched as the man in front of you stared at you, not hiding the obvious skim he did over your body before meeting your narrowed eyes. Disgust filled you and you could tell the son of a bitch took it as a gamble, a sign to ask your Boss in the cockiest tone for your time.

“How much to have her keep me company for the night?”, he asked as he took a drag of his cigar.

“She doesn’t do private sessions or take clients.”, Boss pressed, his voice friendly but had an edge, signaling for the man to not push him on the topic. You watched as the man, who was dressed perfectly in a suit, focused on you. Your eyes locked in a glare off, something you were used to doing with the filthy men of Gotham.

This man, though, was the opposite of filthy.

He was rich, coordinated, a businessman, and he’d have brainless women throwing themselves at him but you knew the game. You’d rather cut out your tongue than let someone like him get near you.

“I’ll give you triple the price that you’d charge for any other one of the girls here. I’m sure she’d like a good paycheck.”, his voice filled with an edge, a desire that made you revolt. You were surprised he didn’t recognize you, then again, it’d been 4 years.

“She doesn’t do private sessions. Put some respect on her. Ask again and our meeting will have been for nothing. The boys can show you the way out, Sionis”, Boss stood, shaking his hand as the man stayed focused on you. His eyes dark before we turned and said his goodbyes and left the room.

You watched as the Boss picked up a folder, opening it and letting the contents spread out on the table. You leaned forward, soaking in the photos and papers that were laid out.

“Who was he?”, you asked even though you were no stranger to the man, keeping appearances as you skimmed through the images and articles.

“Roman Sionis, the Black Mask, came in with a proposition for a new street rat that’s been making hits on his drug trade. Asking to combine men to take him out, asking for a $500,000 bond on his head.”. Of course the name sounded familiar, you’ve heard Black Mask’s name in meetings and throughout the city, but meeting him in this lifetime was a first. You looked at the Boss, wondering who could possibly be trying to get in on the drug trades that have already been pre-established in the city. They couldn’t be so dumb as to get mixed in with the men that lived in the underground of Gotham, the men who ran the streets with fear and power.

“How do you think Two-Face will do with this? Do you think he might ask us not to help Black Mask?”, the Boss turned to you before stretching his hand out, handing you a small stack of photos..

“Depends, he might tell us to help, especially since it seems this rat is trying to get involved with Carmine’s ring, already busted two sites in up-town.”, you hummed in response. You looked through the stack, taking in the images.

Two Face and Black Mask were on opposite ends of the crime grade, but kept neutral grounds because of their alliance with your boss: Penguin. Penguin was a businessman, used for everything having to do with organized crime in Gotham. If you needed someone with a hand in Gotham’s business, Penguin was the guy. It seemed since this new nuisance had surfaced, the big names were coming together to try and wipe him out. It would be the first time in years since the high profile crime lords called a ceasefire.

The images were of all the operations that had been busted, blood all over the ground, bodies hanging from ceilings or decapitated on the ground. There were other photos showing missing cargo, hostages, and the papers on the table were full reports of every incident from the past three weeks. Who could possibly have the guts to do something at this caliber?

Who would possibly have the guts to target the crime lords of Gotham so casually?

“Do you need me to investigate?”, you asked, selfishly wanting to know more about who this mystery person could be. Why were they doing all of this?

“For the time being, no. If anything comes up or the situation gets worse you know you’ll be the first one contacted.” he motioned as you nodded once then stood, walking over to the cabinet he’d just pointed at.

You pulled out a package, handing it to him as he opened it and pulled five stacks of bills out and passed them to you.

“Your cut for last week”

You skimmed through it quickly, counting the money in your head. $15,000. As promised.

The upside of working in organized crime within the underground was the pay. You worked one or two jobs a week and you got 4 months rent in a night. High risk, high reward.

You stashed the money in your jacket, securing them on the inside to ensure you’d be able to put them in your safe back home once you left the Lounge.

You stayed around to help Penguin with some admin work, getting a few hours into the night before deciding to go home. You gathered your things as you stepped out through the hidden entrance, your senses going off as you looked around.

Someone was watching you.

You pulled out your gun, holding it in your hand as you moved through the streets, examining every corner above your head and below you once you reached the roof of one of the buildings. The roof was empty, everything around you as though it had been left abandoned.

You walked over to the ledge, noticing a small piece of fabric, a fresh scent lingered in the air. A musky type of cologne you’d assume.

Whoever was here was gone.

But why they were watching you was your main concern.

You turned, heading back towards your apartment, the mystery person still fresh on your mind as you settled in for the night.

“Penguin”, Black Mask started out, putting out the ash of his cigarette in the tray, “How are we going to handle this street rat? He’s starting to destroy the outer locations of our operations.”

The Boss looked over at Sionis, pulling up the papers of the file he was given a few weeks ago. You looked over at Falcone, who kept looking at your movements but looked away when he saw you draw your attention to his intrusive eyes. You felt your body move closer behind Penguin, knowing if something happened he would step in. Boss looked at you and handed you a key from his pocket.

“Y/n, can you grab the black packet in the office?”, you took the key from him and walked towards his office that was just across the room. As you walked by the three men, you felt Sionis staring at your legs, your outfit more revealing than usual, just spandex shorts and a crop top, but nothing too out there. You knew your legs were toned and drew the attention of men all the time, that’s how you were able to draw them in so easily, men were easy to fall victim to your charm.

You unlocked the drawer on the desk and pulled out the packet that the Boss told you to grab. You walked back out and handed over the packet. Penguin opened it and pulled out the contents. It was a few photos and a document holding information on the suspect of the crimes being held against the drug ring in Gotham.

You saw the photos, the frame showing a man with a muscular build wearing a red helmet, his body covered in what you recognized as Kevlar plates. At least he’s smart enough to know to wear some protective material with half the criminals in Gotham looking for him for the delicious bond prize. “He goes by the Red Hood, he’s only been around for a few months, just started hitting the ring a few weeks ago. My guess is to work his way up from the bottom by getting at the heaviest hitters.”

Both Carmine and Sionis looked at the photos of the new vigilante running loose on the streets. You heard Sionis slam his fist on the table in front of him, shattering his glass full of scotch due to the impact. “I want his head on a fucking platter!”, he yelled, the anger eating him from the inside out. You watched his outburst carefully, ready to exit the room if the situation called for it. You have been in these types of meetings long enough to know when to exit and when to stay. The Boss only trusted you to be present during these types of things, especially when it came to meetings with his VIPs.

Carmine took a deep breath and stood up, buttoning the middle of his suit, “I want to know what exactly this man has in mind for trying to get in on our operations, I’ll hire my own private investigator to get more on this.. Red Hood character. In the meantime, if anything more progresses, I want to know.”, and with that he excused himself and was led out the side of the building by the two guards at the door.

Sionis stayed a moment longer, his hand having glass in it, but no serious amounts of blood coming out. He stood and wiped his hand, picking out the shards like it was nothing before he flipped the table over and breaking everything in the process. “I want this guy dead. Not shot dead or stabbed, I mean tortured, murdered, his head on my desk type of murdered, you hear me Cobblepot!”, you quickly moved forward, your small hand held in frame, aiming at the center of his head.

“Show some respect..” you said slowly, your tone laced with warning. You could handle a lot, but violent outbursts where the situation didn’t call for it irked you. Grown men needed to get some sense of control. Sionis looked at you, his eyes narrowing and you never breaking contact.

He just laughed before raising his hands up, “I apologize. Penguin. I want his head on my desk.”, he kept staring at you, his eyes trailing down your neck and chest, your arms still in position, the muscle noticeable due to your constant work out schedule.

Sionis walked by, stopped just in time to whisper in your ear, “I look forward to spending more time with you”, and he excused himself and left. Your arms to your side, uncocking the gun and turning back to Penguin.

“You don’t need to be so assertive.”, you looked at him before placing the gun on the back of your shorts. “He needs to know his boundaries. He can’t act like a fucking child in a meeting asking for your connections” You grabbed the tray off the table and took it back to the other room. “Take the night off, you haven’t taken off in almost three months.”

“You don’t need me for anything?”, you raised an eyebrow at him.

“Not tonight. Once we get a better idea on what we’re dealing with, I’ll send you to do your own search.” You nodded at him as you watched him walk into the office, pulling on your leather jacket, grabbing your money, and heading back to your apartment for the night.

Red Hood.

You let out a laugh under your breath.

What an idiot.

Two weeks later

It was chilly tonight, the perfect night for you to get in field training since Penguin had given you the night off. You hadn’t gone through the city in weeks so the change of pace was nice. You hated not being able to get exercise and train in the field since that’s where the majority of your jobs took place. Scoping out the land, dropping in from roof tops, or running away from people chasing you to get back what you’ve stolen. It was nice to get out and run through the streets and rooftops of Gotham for once.

You launched yourself across the air, letting your body land perfectly on one of the rooftops before you headed towards the other edge of the building, heading towards where one of the major museums were, scoping out to see if there was anything that caught your eye enough to go in and intervene or get some action. You were about to push yourself off the ledge before you felt a crashing weight ram into you like a bull.

You felt your body go flying and skid on the roof, your arm getting scraped up as you tried to focus yourself.

What the hell?

You looked up, your eyebrows rising in shock as you tried to get your footing, pushing yourself back as the monster of a man kept aiming kicks at you. You finally got your footing, barely dodging the heavy, black boot that came swinging at your face. You launched yourself over the person attacking you, running to the other side of the building and jumping to the other one across the street.

Your biggest mistake was looking behind you to see if you lost him because you ended up being met with the body of a bull chasing after you.

Fuck! What’s this guy’s problem?

You decided you needed to attack, running was only going to make things worse or get you stuck in trouble. You turned, taking out your dagger and started trying to get at him, his body movements quick and calculated. For such a big guy, he was almost a little too fast. You watched as his arms tried to get you in a chokehold, twisting your body to ensure he couldn’t grab you.

“Hey! What the hell is your problem?!”, you yelled as he continued trying to reach you, your dagger grazing his arm, cutting through his kevlar plates before you jumped, only to feel his hand wrap around your ankle and slam you into the ground, your dagger falling out of your hand as you tried to get yourself back up. You looked at the man, he was huge. Tall, muscular, but as he stepped into the light you felt yourself freeze for a moment.

Red Hood.

He didn’t answer, but you needed to create some distance. You needed to find an opening.

“Who are you anyway? I’ve been hearing a lot about this infamous new rat running around Gotham, care to show me what the fuss is all about?”, you stood meters away from him, ready to lunge if needed. You watched as the deep red reflected from his helmet under the lights that lit the rooftop with a yellow cast. “Turns out I might be disappointed”.

There was a long pause, before you noticed he stopped moving, holding distance as he stayed focused on you, ready to attack if needed. When he spoke, it surprised you.

“Well, I’ve heard a lot about you sweetheart.”, his voice rang out, distorted by the voice transmitter in his helmet. “The little errand girl that works under Penguin, does his dirty work while he sits on his ass all day cooped up in that piss poor club he calls a hide out.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, unsure of what to say or do. You saw his file, he was dangerous, smart, fast, and everything in between that you could possibly think of. He was a walking human weapon, the way his body was built, the weaponry he had, the way you couldn’t catch his next move.

“What’s a lowlife like you doing trying to make deals with the street dealers of this city? Can’t take down the big guys so you go after the bottom-feeders?”, you taunted, needing to find a way to get him off his game. You were at a disadvantage, you didn’t think you’d be in hand to hand combat with the most wanted vigilante in Gotham, your only weapon now was your gun. You had your hand ready to take it out at any second.

“Oh trust me, I’ll get to the big guys soon enough.”, you glared at him, noticing his stance. You quickly pulled out your gun, cocking it as he held his own aimed at you. You flickered your eyes down at his foot, noticing the twitch before he lunged forward, giving you a split second to move out of his way. You kicked him in the back, forcing yourself over him in order to place more space between the two of you.

You shot your gun at him, his body turning as the bullet grazed his shoulder and you heard the sound of his own pistol discarding the bullets in its case. Your feet moving quickly, the bullets barely missing you as you ran toward him. You quickly tried to make a run for the ledge, only for a strong hand to grab your wrist and twist it behind your back, keeping you stuck in place before you could make your escape.

“Tell the fat bird to get his men ready, don’t leave me waiting.”, the deepness of his voice rang through your ear, his body pressed behind yours as you tried to wiggle out of his grasp.

His grip released, his slip from the roof almost too fast for you to turn and try and fight him. You let out a heavy breath, fixing your clothes and placing your gun back in your waistband.

You quickly gained your composure, forcing away the shock before you ran through the streets of the city. You needed to warn Penguin. You didn’t care about the risk you were taking running through the streets so exposed but notifying Penguin was priority one.

You reached the abandoned alley where you stashed your bike, kicking your leg over it and driving down through the streets of Gotham like crazy until you reached the Lounge. You pushed the door open as you acknowledged Black Mask and his men. Black Mask had reached out to Penguin about the new arising problem overtaking Gotham’s crime lords, stealing his territory right from under him like it was child’s play.

“I have some intel.”, you breathed, every head in the room turning as you spoke. “He’s in our borders.”

“The Red Hood?!”, Black Mask’s voice boomed through the room as you stepped back, not knowing if this was his name. You just knew about the previous holders of the name, the identity dying out around the same time the Joker went back to Arkham.

“I saw him. The .. Red Hood.”, the name rolled off the tongue almost too smoothly, still leaving an ill taste in your mouth. “He attacked me while I was on patrol, told me to tell you to prepare your men and…to not leave him waiting.”

“Who does this piece of shit think he is?!”, Black Mask was overflowing with rage, he’d already faced 3 hits on his trades, he’d surely lose it if he got another.

“Then, I guess we’ll have to wait and see where he strikes.”, Penguin voiced calmly. “If he wants our attention, then he’ll get it soon enough.”

You stared at him, unsure of his decision but didn’t question it. “What if he does more damage?”

“That’s where you’ll come in. I want you to find this rat, track his every move and report back to us. No one is better at this job than you.”

“I won’t disappoint you.”, you nodded to him, accepting his task as he turned towards Black Mask, trying to establish a framework to track, lure, and catch the Red Hood.

You felt a sense of adrenaline through you, knowing this could possibly be the biggest job you’ve had yet. You’d been working with Penguin for the past five years, slowly gaining his trust and proving yourself to him a little at a time. You might’ve been doubted by every other high ranking mobster and crime lord in the underground, but having Penguin vouch for you led to many others wanting you to work for them, wanting to acquire your level of expertise.

You watched as Black Mask stood, buttoning his suit jacket as he dipped his head slightly at you to signal a goodbye. As much as you disliked the man, he had been more laid back than usual which was strange but you didn’t begin to question the reasoning behind why. You waited until the door closed before redirecting yourself to Penguin.

“Boss.”, you paused, watching as he turned to look at you. “Are you sure about this?”

“(Y/n), you’ve proven yourself many times to me, I have no doubt in your capabilities.”, He was right, your skills and success rate made you undeniably good at what you did. No one ever questioned your methods, your skills, you had enough credibility that anyone who wanted to question your work were quickly met with looks or whispers of disappointment. You have solidified yourself as one of Penguin’s best workers, your reputation impeccable.

Even so, the task of going after Red Hood threw you off.

Maybe it was his quick rise through the rings in the underground, maybe it was his high profile, maybe it was the way he knew who you were even though he’d never met you before.

Everyone in Gotham who was remotely close to Black Mask and Penguin’s power bracket was after him, especially Black Mask. You could already imagine the type of press it would bring in for you if you took down the infamous new vigilante breaking apart the crime rings and reestablishing them as his own.

You shook the thoughts, hardening your resolve.

You needed to find and lure in the Red Hood, even if it meant killing him. The bond on his head would be more than enough to leave Gotham forever.

Guess Red Hood’s my ticket out of this hell hole.

The next few days seemed to drag on, you spent most of your time using your sources to get more information on Red Hood. You went through every security footage within every major territory, dipped into police records, planting information in order to gain insight in other rings. You even planted recording devices throughout many of the hidden meeting places throughout the city and every outlier neighborhood that could be connected back to the crime rings in the city.

You had three leads, three possible ins that could lead you to find the Red Hood and his next target for a bust. You noticed how he was already starting to pick up traction, apparently holding an anonymous meeting with some of Black Mask’s outer connections, giving them a duffel bag full of decapitated heads of some of the main operators. They quickly fed into the funnel of giving Red Hood a cut of the profits. You realized then that that was when Sionis had contacted the Boss and offered a partnership in the process.

Leading to now.

You sat in front of your computer with all the records and reports in front of you, security footage and photo stills of him all over the city. You realized his two favorite weapons to use were an AK-47 and Jericho 941’s. He liked to use his little Scorpion Evo 3 A1 if we wanted to be theatrical but he rarely reached for it. You found shell casings of his 941 around some docks, the .40 S&W casing by where the dock ended. A single shot.

He likely shot once and let whoever it was float in the lake until someone dug them out.

And you were right.

Black Mask’s main operant had been found shot and killed by the docks.

One bullet to the head.

Courtesy of the red hooded vigilante.

You narrowed your eyes, watching the screen as you decided to follow up on your first lead. Another meeting by an abandoned warehouse about 45 minutes outside the city. If you left now you would be able to make it in time to get in on the trade, see if it was a good lead to follow up on and if it was, then you were one step closer to getting in touch with the Red Hood.

You quickly changed, putting on a pair of cargo pants and lacing up your combat boots, throwing on a long sleeve fitted shirt and pulling on your leather jacket. You grabbed your goggles off the counter, knowing they’d be helpful for infrared and night vision since the trade would be happening around 2am. Stealth was of importance. If you got caught the entire thing would go to shit, you would lose your lead and tip off the very person you were looking for. You always needed to be careful even if you knew without a doubt that he wouldn’t be there. You had to treat every situation like he would be present. You’d be able to catch him faster that way.

You pulled your mask up over your nose, pulling the hood of your shirt over your head before jumping out of your apartment window and into the alley where you had your bike hidden. You strapped your guns to your holsters, ensuring they were secure and your daggers were accounted for before you turned on the motor and sped through the street to the isolated location.

You left your bike off to the side, hiding it somewhere you could easily get to in case of any emergency. This lead wasn’t just to see if the Red Hood would appear, it was also a job Penguin had asked you to look into. Black Mask had requested a deep search of his suppliers to see who was slipping money and information to the Red Hood under the table and so you were put to the task and turns out the supplier you were after was that loose end. Two birds, one stone.

You watched as the supplier and his men were moving cargo boxes of illegal weapons, the kind you’d only find on the black market and could only inquire through the illegal trades within the underground. A group of men loaded everything into a line of trucks, two of them directing everyone while shouting the deadline for shipment, rushing the workers.

You used your goggles to zoom into the field, taking out a small dart gun you had to send a small transmitter to the inside of one of the trucks so you could get a better listen.

“Hurry up! If we aren’t on time with this shipment we don’t get our money!”, one of them yelled. He was muscular, tall, but not the man you were looking for.

“We’ll make it, don’t worry. The Hood’s gonna get our payment. The shipment won’t be delayed.”

You scoffed at the mention of Red, annoyed that he had these fools believing it was worth betraying Black Mask just to dip into Red Hood’s protection.

The final trucks loaded with all the weapons inside, taking note of the time as they would head out soon. You moved closer to the door, following behind two of the shipment trucks as they pulled out of the warehouse. You planted a small tracker on the truck before silently moving back towards your motorcycle, following closely behind as the trucks went off through the secluded streets. The darkness and bareness of the roads make it easy to get through without being detected by any of the underground criminals or any of Gotham’s Police Force.

The trucks turned into a dark alley, your bike merging down the street to avoid being seen as you noticed they were heading towards a shipment dock. You stayed a good distance, knowing your destination was only a few meters ahead. Just as you managed to turn into the road, the crashing sound of metal scraping on asphalt and the dirt mixing into the air filled your senses. Your ears rang as you felt your arm burn from the road tearing into your skin. Blood dripped from your forehead, your arm burning from the sensation of raw flesh being ripped open.

You lifted your body, struggling to focus as you turned to look at the very person you were here for.

“Well, fancy seeing you here sweetheart.”, that distorted voice rang out as you stayed focused on him, your hand ready to reach for your pistol if necessary. “Did you come out here to find me?”

You tried to force your body off the ground, only to be met with the heavy weight of his combat boot kicking into your gut at full force, shoving you to the ground with another kick to your back. Your body twitched from the sudden impact but you quickly rolled out of the way, leaning on your arms as you pulled out your gun and aimed it at him.

“Do you even know how to use that thing?”, he mocked, his muscular and ominous form standing over you like a predator ready to devour his prey. You were not this fucker’s prey. You were the hunter and he needed to be hunted.

“Want to take your chances and find out?”, you spat back.

“You sure have a smart mouth for someone at a disadvantage”

“What makes you think I’m at a disadvantage, asshole?”, you narrowed your eyes, daggers digging into him as you rose from the ground, your gun still pointed to the middle spot on his head.

One shot.

That's all it would take to take him down.

He walked over to you with a swiftness, your body twisting as you tried to get out of his grasp and pushed yourself back but his brute force swallowed the space between you as he snapped his hand around the collar, bringing your face close to his as the red glow of his helmet illuminated under the moonlight. It gave him a murderous glow.

“Go home to master before I send you back in a body bag”, his threat was serious, you knew he was serious. He had decapitated 5 people in the span of a few hours. You knew he’d gladly send you back to Penguin dead just to send a message.

You stared at him, jaw clenched as you felt the anger radiating off his body. You couldn’t see his face but you could tell you were the absolute last thing we wanted to deal with tonight.

“Too bad I don’t listen to wannabe crime lords. My connections come in high places.”, you spit out as he forced himself into your space.

“Your connections wont do anything for you once I snap your neck in half, so I suggest you stop with the smartass comments before I go ahead and send you back one limb at a time.”

You laughed at his comment. He was dangerous, lethal, could snap your neck in a second and you just laughed at him.

“Why do you care so much about Black Mask’s crime ring? What do you have to gain from any of this?”

“Revenge. Payback. Pest control.” he warned. “The more of these lowlives I get rid of, the better, the faster I get my message to that psychopath the better. Even if it means chopping you up into pieces to get my message back to that fat pig”

You had enough of his empty threat. Three times and he still talks in circles. You quickly twisted your body, using your taser to shock him into letting you go and moving your body to land a hit to his stomach and another to his chest. Those kevlar plates were going to be the death of you. You needed to find an opening, anything to just draw some blood. You could get a sample and expose his identity in a few hours.

He turned towards you, his body upright as he pulled out a serrated knife, ready to tear through flesh and rip you to shreds. His stance was guarded, ready to attack but the distance never closed.

“Haven’t you ever wondered why it’s you he sends out to do his dirty work?”, taunting you seemed to be his favorite method to try and get a rise out of you. “It’s because he doesn’t care about you. You’re replaceable, if you fail he can find someone else, you’re just another piece of shit lowlife who is being used to do the dirty work of the biggest kingpins in Gotham”,

You narrowed your eyes at him, calculating your next move by observing your surroundings a little at a time, not letting him have the first move.

“You think you’re special because you get to sit in on his little meetings? Because he pays you more? Trust me sweetheart, you’re anything but special. You mean just as much to him as the rats to run around in the sewers, you’re nothing.”

“You don’t know shit.”, you barked back, watching as he ran towards you and aimed his knife at you, the blade missing as you continued to move around, landing a few punches and kicks to his body, failing to slow him down.

You focused on knocking the knife out of his hand, but his body was quick, almost super human. You were fast, but he seemed calculative, like he knew your next move even before you did. You lifted your leg to kick at him, his body moving as you continued to lunge at him and grab his knife. He pushed himself back, crossing his arms to block the full force hit you tried to deliver. You managed to close the gap, reaching to his belt as you felt the blade rid through your arm.

You let out a grunt of pain, a second to recoil from the knife tearing through your flesh was all he needed to get you off guard. He shot his arm forward, tightening around your neck almost crushing your windpipe. You tried to force yourself out of his grasp but his grip tightened with every movement. He was suffocating you.

“Let’s see that face of yours”, he breathed before he grabbed the edge of your mask and ripping it off your face, revealing your face to him fully, red and sweaty from the fight you two just had. “Well, at least you’re easy on the eyes”, the humor in his voice angering you.

“Go to hell..”, you struggled against his grip, feeling yourself lose oxygen again.

“Sweetheart, we’re already there.”

You were not about to get choked out by this son of a bitch twice in a row. You struggled agaisnt him, stopping when you heard the sound of nearby vehicles, the red and blue lights passing by down the street.

It was Gotham PD.

You took the split second of his hesitation to break from his grip, your body tumbling slightly from the lack of oxygen before you ran to your bike that had skidded only a few feet away. You quickly turned it on, pressing down on the gas, hoping to get away but when you turned around you could see him only a few meters behind you.

That fucker.

You turned down an alley before breaking through the window of an abandoned building, riding through it to the other side to get him off your trail. You needed to get rid of the loose end before you went home for the night. It was the only chance you had to get the money he promised you.

The lights passed with every second, your gut instinct telling you to go down a dark alley. Once you turned, you heard Red’s bike go down a different alley, getting him off your trail for a split second. You pulled over to the path that led to the meeting area, abandoning your bike and climbing to the roof of the building across from the site. Far enough to not be seen, close enough to make the shot.

You waited, noticing the men unloading the weaponry into the truck on the other side of the walk way. there.

You watched silently from the room, watching as Black Mask’s traitor was talking to one of Red Hood’s partners. You recognized him from your background search, he had switched out of Carmine’s ring and started working under the Red Hood when he heard about the decapitation debacle. He didn’t want to be another dead body so instead he switched sides.

You watched through your goggles, noticing the case. Probably over $100,000. Enough money to lock away and never have to come back to Gotham. One could only dream.

You pulled out the sniper you had hidden away for trades like this. You had your own weapons hidden around Gotham for your night jobs. Only in places you could find. You aimed from the roof, waiting for the perfect moment to shoot. You only needed to get rid of the traitor, Red’s little buyer could live another day to warn his boss.

You waited as the men turned away, your finger on the trigger waiting for the buyer to turn back towards the trucks. Just a few more feet. You felt your finger flex, you controlled your breathing, steadied yourself, and pressed the trigger. You saw his body go down. You quickly pulled away as you saw the men rush to the dead body. You quickly hid the sniper back between the boxes and ran to the other side of the building, jumping to the roof across and sliding down into the alley way.

You felt your heart racing as the shouts behind you slowly started to fade and kept running until you found the alley where you had left your motorcycle. You hopped on and sped away from the scene, trying to reach the lounge to let the penguin know that the job was done.

You headed towards the nearby bridge as a shortcut, only to hear a slight beeping below you. You screeched to a halt, leaning over to examine your bike to be met with a flashing red light.

Mother fucker.

You grabbed the tracker, pulling it off and crushing it under your boot. the annoyance eating you alive festered until you needed to punch something. You didn’t have time for this shit. You triple tapped the small transmitter on your wrist. A small signal letting the penguin know your job was complete. You looked behind you, feeling the sense of someone watching, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. You got a small transmission back, Penguin confirmed.

You hummed softly, turning back towards the road and heading back home.

One Week Later

“This brat has gotten two, TWO, of my operations shut down and I am losing money, Penguin! We need to get his pretty little body off the streets and in my trophy case or I will burn this entire city down.”, Roman had anger issues, severe anger issues, and he had no intent of trying to hide that fact. You tried to ignore him as you placed the last of the money in the bag and handed it back to Penguin, telling him the $50,000 count inside and he gave you $20,000 of what was inside. You grabbed the two bands and placed them inside your jacket before walking to the other room to grab the men a drink.

You grabbed the top shelf scotch, bringing it back over and pouring the amber liquid into both of their glasses. You bent over and placed the glass down in front of Sionis, who looked at you with lustful eyes, and you returned his gaze, only you were glaring daggers at him. Silently he grabbed the glass before shooting it back and pouring some more. You couldn’t help but feel revolted by him, but you walked out of the room in slow strides, your hips moving side to side, already knowing that he was staring.

“We need more patrols, more people out on the field. Whatever it takes to get this fucker off our shipments!”, Sionis growled as he slammed his amber glass down on the table in front of him. Penguin looked at him with an annoyed look, his body language tired of Black Mask’s antics.

“We’ll get the men we need, and I think we need to be more strategic than strength.”

You crossed your legs as you looked over Penguin’s shoulder. He had a folder with the name of one of the current operations on it. The kryptonite shipment. You’d heard Sionis and some of his partners talking about this multi-million dollar shipment.

“If he gets in on this, I am gonna kill somebody. I don't care who.”, Black Mask grabbed the file and tucked it inside his suit pocket before heading towards the back door and leaving.

“You know he’ll find a way to get in on that shipment, right?”, you muttered. Penguin stood, walking over to the office drawers and pulling out a small sheet of paper. He looked it over before walking back and giving it to you.

“I don’t think he will.”, he smirked as your face contorted into shock as you read the paper's contents.

“He.. How?”, the question left almost pleasingly. Penguin was spinning the small dial on the safe in the office, listening to each click as he put in the combination.

“We found friends on the inside, it wasn't difficult to contact him and he’ll get back to us shortly.”, he pulled out a package, handing it to you as you opened it and examined the contents.

You eyebrows furrowed at the information.

“What’s this?”, you question.

“His name is Calvi Calbera”, Penguin motioned. “He’s a luxury goods trader and has a hand in not only the black market but up scale Gotham trades too. He gets a lot of money from those luxury stores and rich clients from the upper city”

You raised an eyebrow at him.

“I want you to convince him that having ties with me is beneficial. We get more streams of income from Upper Gotham, he gets business trade and protection. He’s stubborn, but this is his file. You can tail him as long as you need to do what you can”

“Is this related back to the Red Hood?”

“This has nothing to do with him. Consider it a side job I want you to do.”

“What if he already has protection and a business partnership?”, you quickly mentioned as you continued reading his file.

He had some of the most expensive, luxury jewels under his name. Million dollar jewels. He was also a dangerous card to have in your hand, he had underground connections. This would be a great way to get the money you needed to disappear.

“That’s what I’m worried about, but I trust you’ll find a way to convince him?”

“I can do my best”, you nodded at him. “Is there a timeline for this?”

Penguin shook his head, pouring himself another glass to drink. “No, I just want to have him on our list of ties, so take however long you need.”

You nodded again, shoving everything into the file neatly before tucking it into the inside pocket of your jacket. Watching as he disappeared into the office. It was still early, only around 2am. You went to the back and organized a few documents Penguin had received from Black Mask, looking through them and gaining more insight of the entire situation with Red Hood as a whole.

Damn.

He really had busted through two of Black Mask’s operations, killed more than 13 of his men, stole more than 20 of his workers, and burned down two of his warehouses. Carmine was also getting hits on his operations. 20 men killed, 15 workers taken, loss of $50k in profits.

You skimmed through some of the papers in another cabinet, pulling out everything on Penguin’s partners, their ties and where they’ve had losses.

Red Hood really was doing a number on these organized crime rings. Dipped his foot into each one and stole men, territory, and money. It surprised you how much ground he’d covered since he came out of nowhere.

You finished looking at the files, placing them back neatly in the filing cabinet and headed to your small locker holding your personal belongings. Just as you were about to close the small door you heard a shuffling sound from Penguin’s office. Your senses on high alert.

You grabbed the door handle, lightly turning it before pushing the door in and seeing the Boss being held at gunpoint. Your blood boiled at the sight.

This piece of…

“Well, how unexpected”, Red voiced out, humor in his voice. How did this man get in the hidden lounge area?!

“Y/n. Come in. Come meet our… guest.”, he said nonchalantly, your eyes focused on him as you burned with annoyance. He couldn’t just leave you alone and stay on his side of things. What a fucking nuisance.

You watched as Red focused on you, his gun still pointed as Penguin sat in his chair. You flickered your gaze to Penguin quickly before looking back at Red, noticing how he walked towards you. He towered over you, his muscular build guarded in kevlar made him seem bigger but you knew he was strong. You’d gone head to head with him twice already. He was a powerhouse of a man.

You moved back slightly when his hand rose, pushing a piece of hair out of your face. You didn’t break eye contact, you needed him to know you wouldn’t back down from him and the possibility of him harming your Boss. You looked over to Penguin, giving you a look, blinking twice, and said nothing.

A simple signal, but one that let you know he had already alerted the guards. You looked at the masked man, before he turned to the Boss and spoke out.

“She’s a pretty one, Penguin.”

This motherfucker. Pulling this shit again.

You thought silently, before standing up and turning towards the door, the Red Hood looked at you intently.

“Don’t move.”, you heard a gun cocking and stopped. You already knew he had his handgun pointed at you. Your intuition alerting you to move out of the way, especially since you knew the guards would be here in less than ten seconds.

You turned to look at the Red Hood, his gun pointed at you while he had the other pointed at Penguin. you heard the click to the door, and you were sure he didn’t hear it.

In one fluid motion you pulled out your gun and shot at him, which missed and he shot back at you but you had jumped out of the way and the guards came in, blocking the exit. He shot at the both of them and they pulled their own pistols out. The room was big enough for the four of them to face off, but Red jumped over the two of them. Running out the door and closing it behind him.

He ran past you, and you saw him go out through the side door, and you pushed yourself off the ground and ran towards the door. You ran behind him, placing your gun on the inside of your shorts, seeing the man run and turn around to glance at you. You weren’t too far behind him, your stamina good enough to keep up, but not sure if you’d be able to stop him without the use of your gun.

He ran through the hallway but ignored the stairs leading outside but took the ladder out the window to the roof. You saw him jump through the window of the second story and cling to the ladder, you jumped out and grabbed the side, slipping a little, and holstered yourself up. You both reach the roof and you were able to pull out your gun and shoot at his feet, making his trip just a little bit enough for you to catch up and push your leg through his and trip him over completely.

He rolled on the ground and you pushed yourself on him. Your leg on his chest and your gun pointing at him. You heard him groan before he looked up at you.

“You’re pretty fast, sweetheart. You sure you know how to use that thing?”, his voice was deep, you could tell even through the voice changer. You cocked an eyebrow at him before scoffing.

“Do you want to find out?”, you answered back. You could hear the guards yelling, noticing the broken window below. There was only a minute before they would try and come up here, or ask you if you caught the hooded vigilante.

“Looks like you finally have the upper hand. Tell me Y/n, what are you doing working for Penguin knowing he’ll never use your full potential?”, he asked, and you pushed your foot onto his arm to keep him from talking. He groaned a little and you didn’t falter.

“That’s nothing you should concern yourself with. Tell me Red, why risk going after the big dogs when you can barely keep up?”

“I think I’m keeping up pretty well”, he mocks. You narrowed your eyes at him, your gun still aimed at his head. You kept his gaze, locked on him as you contemplated in your head.

“(Y/n)! Are you there?”, you looked behind you before yelling back.

“Yeah. I’m here!”

“Did you get him? The Red Hood!”

“Yeah, doll. Did you?”, you narrowed your eyes. You knew the price on his head was more than enough to get you out of this city. Enough to survive for the next five years if need be, but there was something that tipped you off. There was a tug in your gut, you couldn’t be sure if it was worth it and yet…

“(Y/N)!”

A moment of hesitation and you pushed yourself off of the Red Hood, yelling back, “No, he got away!”

You stood and he stayed laying there for a moment before he also rose to his feet, his gaze still locked on you. What were you doing?

“I’ll be down, go tell Boss to warn Black Mask and Carmine!”, they yelled back a simple okay and with that they left.

“How sweet of you.”

“I’m not doing this for you. I have my reasons” you answered harshly before uncocking your fun and placing it back in the small holster on your waist.

“Does this have to do with that ugly faced Black Mask?”, he asked, cocking his head as he rolled his shoulders.

You narrow your eyes at him, hesitating before answering. “It doesn’t matter who or why. Go before you make me regret not having our men torture you”

He laughed. “Our men. Sweetheart, those are Penguin’s men. There you go again assuming you’re of some value to that fat bird.”

“You underestimate me, Red”, you said through clenched teeth. Anger radiating off of you like fire. “Go before I end up shooting you”

“Always so protective of the men that own you”, he said under his breath.

You pulled your gun out again swiftly, pushing it under his jaw and holding his gaze with your own. “I don’t belong to anyone motherfucker. Now leave before I fucking shoot you”, you growled. He raised his hands, showing a simple surrender.

“Okay, noted.”

“Why play such a risky game? You know you’ll get caught eventually.”, you looked at him and he shrugged, “Never been caught before. I think I’ll be alright”.

You couldn’t tell if this man was being serious or if he was just taunting you. Most people who were raised on the streets knew how to hold their own, so you expected that he would know too and was just another power hungry nobody.

“Okay fucker. Now leave before I put a bullet through that brain of yours”

The man took a long stride towards you, the gloss of the helmet obviously ruined, but still a bright crimson red that made him noticeable in a crowd. You could sense his breath, steady and controlled but gave away that he had no real intent to hurt you. He was painfully close, but working somewhere like the club, you were used to the invasion of privacy time and time again.

“Sweetheart”, you looked at him, raising your head a little since you were far shorter than him, “Don’t start something you won’t be able to finish.”, he challenged.

“And what if I can?”, you countered just as fast. He stared at you, before stepping back, your heart beating in your chest.

“I’d be more than interested to see that, but your master is calling.”, you glared at him, and not even two seconds later, your small alarm went off, indicating Penguin’s call. You looked at the Red Hood who placed both guns in his holster that seemed to wrap around his muscular thighs perfectly, cursing yourself for even noticing his build in the first place.

“Well, (Y/n), can’t wait for our next date.”, he said before jumping off the roof and heading towards the opposite direction of the club. You stayed a moment longer before heading back down towards the Boss’s room.

A/N:

I received such great response to my prologue for this series and I am very excited to keep it going. I’ll be posting updates every week on either Fridays or Saturdays depending on my work load! If i’m delayed or cannot post on those days I will post saying so. Please be patient as I am also in Uni and am doing this series as a way to distract myself from school and have a little hobby that is fun for me. I do have chapters planned a week in advance so I can keep a good posting schedule. But again, please be patient with me!

I love writing these so and I hope you enjoy reading them!

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gallusrostromegalus · 11 months

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How does trash pickup, Recycling centers, &/or Hazardous Material Disposal work for Soul Society in AEIWAM? Is there a Kido-based ritual to break things down into Reishi? Are there Tech Repair Shops?

Sewage in Soul Society works really well but very dangerously because those fucking idiots built the city directly on top of an active supervolcano.

Let me back up:

There isn't a good consensus on how big the Seireitei is (Yoruichi says it takes 10 days to walk 1/4th of the way around the circumference, but whether that's her speed, the average person's or how long a patrol group takes is unclear), Or any real maps of the place, but it's generally agreed that

the city is LARGE. Yoruichi says it would take her and the kids ten days to walk to the next gate 1/4th of the way around the city. Maybe that's 8 hours average human walking speed minus 'trying to herd a bunch of teenagers' but that's still a long trip!

Even before the Seki-Seki stone wall was put up, the city was pretty much circular.

Unlike pretty much every real city, there's no river running through it. Where are they getting their water?

There is a Small but substantial and TOTALLY ISOLATED mountain in the middle of the city made of apparently hard-to-mine rock. A Lonely Mountain, one might even say.

The only visible natural sources of water I've seen evidence of are hot springs in both the Yoruichi/Urahara Super Secret Training Ground/Love Nest and the first division grounds.

Soul Society is run by jackasses and if there's a stupid way to do things, that's the way they're doing them.

In fact, the Soul Society as a whole is almost suspiciously Amestris-shaped, but instead of nefarious alchemy, it's negligent civil engineering

...all this leads me to believe that Seireitei is built DIRECTLY ON TOP OF the caldera of an enormous supervolcano. The city gets it's water from the aquifer of rainwater that's collected in the underground cracks and fissures of the Caldera, and the seki-seki stone wall is set up around the really convenient geographic barrier made by the rim of the caldera.

"Hey!" I hear some of you nerds objecting "Aren't calderas usually concave? Seireitei is convex, if anything!"

You're right! Most Calderas are concave! But they will absolutely fill in with sand and dirt over the true floor of the caldera over time and develop Mounts like the thing at the central part of the city and start to rise WHEN THEY'RE ON THE VERGE OF A CATASTROPHIC ERUPTION.

So yeah! The Gotei-13 has an almost infinite supply of hot water, and probably less than a century to figure out what to do before The Big Kaboom.

Anyway, back at sewage:

There's been a city where the Seireitei is since time immemorial, and even though it's done the istanbul-not-constantinopple shuffle a few times, very little of the actual infrastructure has changed. Empires rise and fall but the desire paths stay the same.

This is especially true in Seireitei, because unlike very nearly every major IRL Municipality, it doesn't have a river running through it, something that usually necessitates Sewer updates By Force. But compared to a river which is constantly moving around in it's bed, a volcanic aquifer doesn't move much until it moves a whole fucking lot real fast, so the undercity of the Seireitei has really had time to... Develop isn't quite the right word.

"Ferment" is closer.

Above-ground waste management is the provenance of the actual local city government- yes, there is a Mayor of the Seireitei that the Gotei-13 has to pay property taxes to. Yamamoto maintains a lot of goodwill with the Mayor by dint of sentencing ill-behaved shinigami to shore up the municipal labor pool, and by knowing the mayor's family for the last millennium. So you'll see Shinigami doing things like trash collection and street-sweeping, but they're just there on probation.

-But nobody wanted to deal with the undercity. It's got a soul of it's own. Washington DC, which is less than 500 years old as a city and on top of a swamp, has an undercity that goes down over half a mile. Imagine how deep the sunken buildings, abandoned secret tunnels, and sewer system of a city that's millenia old, not sitting on actual mud and constantly subjected to high levels of magical background radiation might develop.

An Appetite, for one thing.

The 11th likes to talk a big game, but the reason the 4th is in charge of sewer maintenance is because the only people with the guts for it were people who got degrees rummaging in the guts of living people. Sewer maintenance really is a lot like abdominal surgery, if you were able to walk around inside the patient.

It was Retsu Unohana's idea, actually. Chigiri was a battle medic and aged rapidly for a shinigami. She was old when the court guard finally went from "Yamamoto and his gang of assholes" to "A for-real governing body". Her successor, Kirinji was more interested in traumatic injury recovery than preventative medicine, for obvious reasons- his triage was constantly full of combat casualties and early kido experiment victims Blood Loss was still his #1 Killer.

But Retsu had been reincarnated in and spent her youth in South 80, in the utterly undeveloped conditions there, and held deep, personal grudges with Dysentery and Cholera. For all his talk of healing waters, Kirinji had no sense of the importance of water sanitation, and it was a continuous point of contention between them for her apprenticeship.

"FINE!" He shouted one day after a particularly nasty row. "IF IT'S SO GODDAMN IMPORTANT TO YOU, YOU HANDLE IT! FORM NOW ON, YOU'RE IN CHARGE OF SEWAGE, SLUDGE QUEEN!"

She made her first descent the next morning.

She did not return for six weeks, and Kirinji almost thought he'd resloved that particular problem when she reappeared from the depths, a changed woman. That long in the darkness, alongside the buried secrets and skeletons of the city, with the horrors that did not dare brave the sunlight- it would change anyone, and most would come up looking at least mildly haunted.

Retsu Unohana is not most.

She looks radiant, almost like The Kenpachi again, covered in the horrors of the underground as she used to be covered in blood. She thrives on a challenge, and excels at the art of purification, and now, she has been given the single greatest challenge of purification in history. There is something beautiful and terrible in her eyes as she explains that it does down at least five miles, look at this, she thinks it's from the neolithic era, and there are incredible boneyards of thousands of skeletons, and fungi the likes of which she's never seen before- She is ecstatic- a creature kept in captivity, finally released into it's natural habitat.

It's hardly a surprise, if you consider Minazuki. Stingrays are benthic creatures, right at the bottom of the river, deep in the muck and decay.

It's been a little over eight hundred years into her tenure as a medic, and she has tamed much of the beast. The upper levels are well-mapped and have been made clean and well-lit, enough that even the civilian sanitation forces of the city can regularly enter and work in them without any particular unease. Infant and preventable disease mortality has dropped astronomically. Nobody's had cholera since the 1800's . While they have other jobs, all members of the 4th division are required to take at least one tour in the depths of the undercity.

Horrors still lurk in the depths.

They're pretty sure they lost Tokagero Kenpachi chasing one of those, shortly before Unohana became captain, and she's been reluctant to let other divisions assist since then. The Fourth Division's Fourth Seat, rumored to be the unluckiest post in the entire Gotei-13, is permanently stationed underground, and she loves it that way.

It's only recently that the 11th has been allowed to come along on descents, after Zaraki vanished for two days and then emerged victorious from a manhole in the 5th division with a tentacled horror she'd been tracking for decades that lived at least three miles down. He apologized- he had meant to come up in the 4th to present it's corpse to her directly, but well, you know what his sense of direction is like. Anyway, I saw it scuttling around in the rain aquifers and we don't need it tracking literal shit into the water supply so I went after is and d'ya think maybe I can take the lads down sometime? They' get lazy between deployments and you have a triage up here to manage.

Charmed, she agreed.

---

Hm. I just re-read that ask and it's actually about dry waste managment.

Sorry. I got very excited about the sewers.

I am now about to get worse about trash.

I don't think they have plastic in soul society- given how bug-themed the 12th division is, I'm pretty sure the casing on Rukia's soul pager is made of Chitin, and if you break it, it bleeds. Also it makes people with shellfish allergies break out in hives.

Since pretty much all the waste in Soul Society is either recyclable or organic matter, I think those trash pits Yumichika and Ganju were fooling around with are really more like Kido-enhanced composting centers. All waste goes into them and the bottom of the pit is pulled out in a tray, like with a vermiculture tower, if the worms were eighteen and a half feet long and hungry enough to swallow anything that falls in the pit, because Mayuri is incapable of making anything that is not at least slightly awful.

The compost is then shaken out for any spare glass or metal that made it into the compost and that's sent off to the 12th division forges to be recycled. it's baked to kill any dangerous pathogens and Giant Garbage Worm Eggs so they don't breach containment, and measured for nitrogen, phosphorus and other important plant nutrient content. Based on it's composition, it's then shipped out to farmers in the upper districts of the rukongai because "Free, A+ grade fertilizer if y'all don't start revolutions, pay your taxes and give us first dibs on crops" is an amazing incentive for rural farmers to not start backing the local warlords.

It was 12th division founder Uhin Zenjohji who came up wth the scheme- he remembered the lengths upper-district farmers were willing to go through to make sure their land remained fertile, what kind of demand Nitrogen was in, and the ravages of phosphorous runnoff, so he could kill two birds with one clod of shit by supplying farmers with 'free' fertilizer that kept them loyal to the court and was tailored to that area's nutritional needs and watershed capacity.

The fact that it kept a lot of swamp and waterway areas pristine so he could indulge his birdwatching hobby was a nice benefit too :).

NORMALLY, those pits are covered, clearly marked, and usually the site of a major traffic jam because that's the local collection point, but when Ichigo and friends arrived, Aizen had whipped everyone into believing they were being invaded by an elite force of super-assassins and not like. 4 high schoolers and a furry. All the street signs and markings came down, civilians shuttered themselves inside, and generally made the Seireitei as difficult to navigate as possible.

I wonder how much Zaraki's rotten sense of direction was exacerbated by that.

ANYWAY! That's my thoughts on trash! Deep undercity horrors and giant compost worms over an active volcano!

#AEIWAM #an elephant is warm and mushy #bleach #bleach fanfic #Retsu Unohana #zaraki kenpachi #tenjiro kirinji

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