#fairly familiar with the first location :)

[crowfeathers]

got my film developeddd

I'll dump some others under a read more

[multifandomfix]

The Spell You Cast - Severus Snape

Summary: The smell of Amortentia can change over time. And while teaching, Severus notices a difference in his own. Yet the new scent is familiar to him. Where has he smelled it before?

Word Count: 1,028

Warnings: A little light angst

Amortentia was perhaps the potion Severus most disliked. He didn’t even know why it was taught to students. To teach them patience and discipline, he supposed, since it took so long to brew. But he was of the opinion that love should not be manufactured, but freely given. Messing with one's heart was asking for trouble. And he’d not known any use of the vile potion to work out well in the end for any of its brewers, nor its victims. Best to keep away from it, and so he did. At least until he had to teach how it was made.

Amortentia's only positive quality, should you ask him, was its scent. It often induced pleasant smells that brought back beautiful memories to whomever deigned to take a whiff, but that aside, it held no other value to him. His had always smelled the same, and the memories attached to it were bittersweet on his best day.

The students were moderately well behaved when class begun, only a stray snide comment and a few snickers at the announcement of brewing the vexing love potion. He could have easily shut it down quickly with a stern word, but he didn’t altogether care what their opinions were on the potion itself, only on getting the lesson of its making over with.

As he brewed his own as an example, he felt like he could already smell the familiar scent bubbling up from the cauldron. Yet, as his demonstration progressed, he could have sworn the scent he knew so well had changed. It was subtle at first, lilies changing to another indistinct floral note. Fresh morning dew to vanilla. And tea. The scent of tea was brand new to him, at least where his amortentia was concerned.

He hoped his expression had remained neutral, despite the surprise. He’d not brewed the potion since last year, and perhaps he’d mistaken an ingredient. Unlike him, but everyone was prone to a slip up now and then, surely. If his face had registered any surprise, thankfully the students thought it best not to question it nor comment upon it, and he was left to his own devices at the end of the class period to figure out what had gone awry.

He’d checked his method and it was flawless as was expected. So that meant it was the potion itself that had changed its scent. But how, and when. He couldn’t fathom the reason for such a change after all these years. It wasn’t as if his tastes had changed. How perplexing.

Choosing to relegate the oddity to the back of his mind for the time being, Severus went about his day as was normal for him. Several more classes took up his day, and he remained thankful that only one class was working on the dreaded amortentia this semester. He didn’t think he could stand smelling the new fragrance of his own several more times that day.

Somehow, the smell lingered in his nostrils throughout the day, as if it were nagging him. It did smell familiar to him, but he’d been so struck by its difference to what he’d come to expect that he hadn’t realized the smell was indeed one he encountered fairly often. Where remained the only question.

He thought of his favorite shop, and the place on the Hogwarts campus that he most enjoyed, though neither of these locations possessed the smell that plagued him so. The people he spent the most time with, and those that he enjoyed the company of were ruled out as well. Minerva was more of an old books and catnip type.

The stern look of frustration mixed with concentration on Severus' face stopped you short as you were en route to pass him in the hallway. It was so terribly unlike him to linger in the halls when students were still passing through. You knew something must have been wrong. "Severus," you softly pressed. You reached your hand out in order to rest it on his shoulder, but instead you hovered, thinking better of it. You felt you were already likely to startle him.

Though he did not jump, he slowly met your eyes, bringing his own out of the middle distance he’d been apparently staring into prior to your arrival. "Are you alright," you asked of him.

"Quite so," he replied. He was not displeased to see you, but you were an unexpected surprise since he hadn’t seen you coming. "It has been an odd day is all," he confessed.

You nodded and gave him a sympathetic smile. "We all have those," you reassured, now placing your hand on his shoulder, thinking the reassurance would mean more with the gesture. You’d definitely had your fair share of days like that, and though it seemed out of place for Severus to have such a day, it stood to reason that he had them just as frequently as you yourself did, he just had a better way of hiding it when he did. Except for today, apparently.

Confident that he wasn’t in some form of distress that was unmanageable, you gave him one more soft smile and took your leave, heading for your classroom before your own students wondered what had kept you from arriving on time.

As you left, the small gust of wind in your wake left Severus with that same smell of tea, vanilla and flowers, precisely the way his amortentia now smelled. Eyes widening at the realization, he turned his head in your direction. It had indeed been last year when you’d started teaching at Hogwarts, filling in for a professor who had taken some leave and that was shortly after his last time brewing the potion. In that year, he’d fallen in love with you.

It was the only logical explanation. It was a frightening one to him, the prospect of finding someone again after everything that had happened all those years ago with Lily, but maybe his amortentia did have a use to him. It let him realize his feelings for you. And now it was up to him to decide if it was worth pursuing them.

For anon

Forever Tag: @borg-queer, @ghostsunderstoodmysoul

Severus Snape: @brienneseveruscalaway, @osterhagen, @darkthought15, @superninjapervert420, @meeksmusic83, @whither-the-wind-goes, @bluenystic, @sapphicprinc3ss, @eternal-silvertongued-prince, @demented-potions-master, @unexpected-character, @yourdailymemedelivery, @impulse-anchor, @ppgrayson, @thegirlwhoistrying, @bloodinthedarksworld, @gothtrash6969, @music-bird, @severusish, @chaotic-mushroomz, @caseydoodles98, @iciclesandsnow, @thenazwife, @phantomofclownery, @animeloverfreak310, @alloutnostalgia, @m-rae23, @asocialrandom, @404-its-alr, @beyondgaby, @scarlettmal

[the-possum-writes]

a finn nsfw alphabet please :)

(I don't speak English that's why so sharp) no se si se entendio

Finn Mertens NS/FW Alphabet

A/n: No te preocupes también hablo español nvn Yippi my first alphabet!

Taglist: @watchingfromthefloorboards @foxpearlwilder

A = Aftercare

He's very affectionate and somewhat clingy, Finn would lay with you for a while before getting you a towel or something to eat/drink.

B = Body part

Finn likes his arms and hands even though they're calloused or riddled with tiny scars, because they remind him that he's strong enough to protect you from many evildoers.

As for his partner's, I'd say he isn't picky but he does like any part of you he can grab a handful and squeeze when cuddling (boobs, tummy, thigh)

C = Cum

It's kinda bitter to the taste because he really likes junk food, but beside that, it's usually a healthy creamy color and a jelly like consistency. He likes cumming inside and over you but would wear condoms if you ask him to, is particularly fond of dirtying your chest and/or face.

D = Dirty Secret

Back during his younger years he'd have this one fantasy about saving someone and they'd give their thanks via a favor of the oral kind. Maybe someday he'll tell you about it for a role play session.

E = Experience

Quite experienced. Finn is well liked, popular, has the confidence and carisma to smooch princesses during the breezy episode so that leads me to think he's gonna get around more often once he's older.

F = Favourite Position

Depending on his mood. If Finn has been out adventuring and hasn't seen you in a while he'd be all over you and would want to be as close to you as possible, like spooning behind you or simplistic missionary. But if he just came back from fighting a monster you know it still has his his blood pumping, he'd wanna take you down to pound town either doggy style or mating press.

G = Goofy

Finn is a silly guy, he'd say a pun or two if he's feeling inspired in the moment. He would also start chuckling if your body makes flatulent-like noises (when a little of air gets trapped in between thrusts and sounds like a gas because of the lube/sweat) during a heated session.

H = Hair

Doesn't usually groom himself downstairs so it's kinda bushy, like sometimes he'll trim it if he's in the shower and notices it's getting out of hand but most of the time Finn doesn't really care that much. You can sorta tell when was the last time he groomed himself (without seeing him naked) by measuring the hair length on his face and head. The color is a bit darker than the blond ones on his head, but still fairly similar.

I = Intimacy

Finn is very romantic, he's one to take things slow and enjoy the moment. He's attentive to your needs and a general sweetheart overall but he can also get overexcited at times and drives you to tears with pleasure, he would make sure you feel loved afterwards, spewing compliments and how much he loves you.

J = Jack Off

Finn didn't really jack off that often before meeting you since he shared a room with his bro but he would occasionally rub one off in the bathroom if he was in the mood. After meeting you though, he'd much rather satisfy that urge with you than alone, but if he's far away during a mission for PB he'd choose to wait it out until he got back to you.

L = Location

There's always the comfort and familiarity of your bedroom but another top contender would be the outdoors, he travels alot so camping in a tent in the middle of nowhere can be very relaxing for him, especially with no one around so he can have you as noisy as he wants.

M = Motivation

Anything you do has his neurons activate no matter if you're dancing, bending over the shelves or wearing that cute new outfit you bought the other day. But if you really wanna push all his buttons at once you just need to grab your weapon of choice and go adventuring with him, the moment he sees you fighting off monsters he'll be all over you like a bee on a flower.

N = NO

Finn doesn't like seeing you hurt, so anything with sharp objects or degrading vocabulary isn't on the table for him.

O = Oral

Prefers to be on the receiving end. Isn't that good at giving cause he gets sloppy lost in it and doesn't coordinate his hands when added to the mix.

P = Pace

Depending on his mood. But most of the time, rough and enthusiastic.

Q = Quickie

Isn't against the idea of lazy sex in the morning, but he'd rather do things properly to savor you instead of rushing it.

R = Risk

Doesn't take risks regarding public locations. Finn is resilient to most pains so he's willing to try out new things like impact play or wax play on himself, kinda unsure about bondage on himself but is interested in seeing you tied up.

S = Stamina

Impecable stamia. You'll never be able to outlast him and if you dare challenge him you can bet you'll be sore for days.

T = Toy

Wouldn't mind the occasional vibrator to tease and prepare you with, though that's about it cause the dildos makes him a teeny bit jealous (he wishes it was him instead) .

He doesn't own any toys himself since he doesn't jack it on his own, nor would he be interested in any on him. (might be open to you wearing a strap on if you ask enough)

U = Unfair

Fair. Finn enjoys teasing as long as it's in the bedroom like when you point out how badly he's spilling precum, however he's not a fan of it in public cause it's very obvious when he gets flustered since his face turns all shades of red. Just be warned, if you do tease him he'll return it once you two get some alone time.

V = Volume

Learned to be quiet back at the tree house but when you get him alone he can get unabashedly loud. Can go from desperate whimpers to legitimate growling.

W = Wild Card

Is most likely a switch, leans more to a sub role cause he likes being told what to do (Bubblegum sending him out to missions, and being Marceline's henchman awoke something in him)

X = X-Ray

Average size, roughly around 8 inches, he's a grower. Uncut, shaft is a bit darker than his usual skin tone with a bright tip.

Y = Yearning

Moderately high, like even when he's not a young man anymore with his hormones all over the place he still get riled up pretty easily.

Z = ZZZ

It takes a while for him to go to sleep, mainly because he waits until you're out first.

[camcanime]

I had the craziest angst dream last night

It was based on an RP my bestie and I had been working on but, man, my brain knows how to toy with my feelings. Words cannot express how I felt after having this dream, my heart was racing. (Will do this in the form of x reader coz damn)

That day was a tragedy, a devastation to yourself and everyone who knew you. No one could have foreseen such a thing and, yet, a heavy blame was taken upon the two men who had cared for you most. You were all fresh into beginning your careers as heroes, barely a year out of graduation, and it didn't last long for you. Somehow, a group of especially dangerous villains had managed to get the jump on you. They beat you to a pulp and took you into capture, falling out of the radar and becoming completely invisible to anyone who may have had a chance to save you.

You were held in captivity for almost two years. Two years. They tormented and verbally degraded you to no end. To say it was torture was an understatement. You may as well have been crucified and left to hang amongst the vultures awaiting the sweet, bitter end to life. Unfortunately, these monsters were not merciful creatures. At first, they attempted to coax information out of you, seeing if they could unlock all of the inner workings of the pro heroes and utilise this for their nefarious deeds. When it became clear that you weren't so easily broken, they decided that you would make a decent venting dolly. You sought to escape once.

"That was a big mistake... hero."

Due to your weakened state, they quite easily recaptured you and they were not happy. They could have just killed you. Part of you wishes they did. No. Instead, they opted for a more fitting punishment: they took away your quirk. More ridicule and abuse is all that followed, is all you had to keep your wavering sanity occupied.

You felt close to your end.

An eventual rescue tore you away from your imprisonment but at what cost? You couldn't even discern the reality from a nightmare at that point. Your saviours, some heroes on the other side of the country, made sure that you were immediately admitted to a hospital. The physical wounds were in need of major attention but the mental scars ran so much deeper.

It probably would have been easy enough to call all of your friends, to ask for help from a familiar face, but a chain would heavy your hand any time you'd reach for the phone. You couldn't even bring yourself to call your two favourite boys.

With months of gruelling therapy out of the way, you now have a home - a new home - that you can call yours and a typical civilian job to keep the money coming in. You may be somewhat established back into society but you are merely a shell of what once was, a sauntering after image of the person you used to be. It had taken countless sessions just to counter your agoraphobia but a slithery vine is quick to entangle your spine any time you choose to leave your home. The darned thing clenches and digs its thorns in, threatening to jolt your head into a spasm but you always fight the urge.

That day wasn't much different. To begin with, at least.

After your usual mental prepping and throwing your cap on, you take the leap of faith from your doorstep and trudge along for your weekly grocery run. All in all, it seemed it was going to be fairly standard; weave in and out of people, make no eye contact, get the goods, and go home. It wasn't like it was late on your way back either but, with the winter season, that night was soon rolling in. You notice another set of footsteps trailing behind you, which certainly isn't helping. It could just be that pesky paranoia settling in but this person has been hot on your tail for a few minutes now. Still having some streets to go, you curse your blunder in not choosing a location more in-city. In an attempt to get home faster without displaying your fear, you ever so slightly pick up the pace. The individual appears to do the same and you are ready to run. The muscles in your calves tighten in anticipation of a quick escape.

That's when it happened: a chance encounter that reduced you to tears.

"Hey!" an all-too-familiar voice beckons from behind you.

Anxiety prickles your skin for different reasons than before. There's no way it's him. Surely not.

Oh, but it is.

The great hero Dynamight had been making his rounds in the city, keeping an astute eye out for anything amiss but also for you. It may seem outlandish for him to still be looking for you after almost three years but this is Bakugo. He's not one to give up. That's probably why he's grown more calloused in this time. He hasn’t been able to heal. To move on. The night still haunts him though he never lets that show. His cold heart had grown even heavier and colder since that day. He barely says a word - more so than usual. The man eats at himself over the whole situation. What could he have done differently? Is there actually anything he could have actually done? If he can’t even save a comrade, a person he cares so deeply about, is he even worthy of the title of hero? Perhaps that is another driving force to keep searching for you. It may seem crazy but at least he hasn't lost his hope. Not like they did. How could they all just assume you dead like that? How could they give up on a friend? A fellow pro hero? Not him. Not ever and nor Kirishima. That redhead, as much of an idiot as he may be, is the only one who stuck by Bakugo's headstrong tenacity over the years. He shakes the thoughts from his head for about the umpteenth time just that day alone.

It seemed as though it would be another afternoon of quiet. One might say that's a nice change of pace but some individuals like to be kept busy. Bakugo stopped for one of his annoying fans when he caught a flash from the corner of his eye. It almost looked like... no. It couldn't be. Wait... is it? His gaze has never once failed him before. The calls of the young boy were lost to him, his feet moved without his consent. He'd recognise that stupid hat anywhere. It wasn't even a matter of questioning the legitimacy before he was practically tailgating the unsuspecting individual. It didn't take long until it was just the two of them walking along the darkening street. His heart hasn’t beat this hard since that terrible day. He shakes his head, almost grows angry. What if it is you? What will he do? A deep breath. Just keep focusing on the task at hand - one that seems to be slipping from him the longer this cat-and-mouse chase drags out. His tracks aren't exactly subtle given how the freshly falling snow crunches and groans beneath his weight. The speed picks up and he knows he has to say something before his "prey" runs off. He has opened and closed his mouth several times to speak up to her but he backs out every time. Goddamnit Bakugo just say something. He growls to himself and closes his eyes. His fists clench beneath his gauntlets. He can’t believe he is about to do this. He must be crazy.

Finally, somehow managing to find his own voice, he calls out. "Hey!"

He didn't know what else to say. He didn't want to call out that name in case his assumption was wrong. The figure stops and slowly turns around to face him. Bakugo stares a moment longer before slowly walking over to get a closer look. His heart punches against his ribcage when he's no more than a meter in front of that familiar face. There have been some changes, of course, but he would recognise those eyes anywhere - your eyes. He looks back and forth between them before letting out a deep sigh and shaking his head. He closes his eyes and rests a hand on her shoulder, an action that is hesitant but proves the reality of your existence at this moment. All he can do is keep his eyes closed as everything tries to catch up to him. Eventually, he takes in a deep sigh and slowly looks up at you. His expression holds a mixture of sad and relived and some exhaustion like he just got done with a war.

"How long, (Y/n)?"

At first, you haven't a clue what he's talking about until it hits you like a steel pipe to the cheek. You had gotten so caught up in the situation, Katsuki Bakugo slowly trailing towards you with an unease you had never witnessed in him before. Not like this. A million and one thoughts spurry around your head but, at the same time, you are also completely blank. Crimson eyes pierce right into your soul, attempting to coerce your tongue for the words but still nothing. You can't help the nausea in your stomach when it dawns on you just how mad he may get. You already envision the blade of his teeth slicing through you.

"They... I was discharged from a hospital in Hachinohe almost... almost four months ago."

It all comes down on him like a sack of bricks. Understandably, he is pissed - unequivocally burning in damnation of the truth that you are alive and have been roaming the streets for so many months and against his knowledge no less. It doesn't matter if he had been in the middle of a battle; he would have been there for you in a heartbeat. Growing more painful, he rubs at the migraine pounding against his temples. He wipes his forehead as if making up for the fact that there are no tears to dry. He doesn't know how to cry right now. The pressure and strain amidst his palms shake his nerves to no end.

"And you didn't call?!" he screams over his crackling throat. "I would have come for you! We would have come for you!"

How could you call? You were so sure that everyone was better off without you, that you weren't needed in their lives. By the time you had been freed, everyone had become more well-established heroes in society. They don't need you. They moved on. That's how you thought of it, at least. Your attempted explanation of this only angers him further but he breathes past the frustration when he realises how worked up you're getting. What happened to you for you to think such awful things?

"I'm not sure where you got this narrative of not being needed," he sighs and looks away. "Do you have any idea what it has been like without you, dumbass?"

The old nickname slips off his tongue so naturally. He'd always call everyone an idiot, stupid, nerd ironically enough, but dumbass? That was reserved for you and for you only, so for it to be said - to be heard - after two years breaks you.

It had been quite a sight, watching you crumble down to the snow-covered floor. He had knelt down, waiting for you to calm down enough to form coherent sentences again. As cohesive as you could against the waves of rainfall spilling from your face, anyway. When things had eventually calmed, he took you back to your apartment and gave you the chance to speak. You managed to tell him little about what you had been through. Each sentence dwindled beneath the weighing sickness that bubbled in your throat any time you tried to get into detail. One thing really stood out to Bakugo, however. He envisioned the mass murder of those bastards for having done this to you, for rendering you quirkless and making you believe such self-deprecating lies.

That was two days ago. Bakugo insisted on you staying around his just to keep an eye on you. You know better than to refuse his help and it's for his own piece of mind as well as yours. He even took the liberty of calling off work for the rest of the week just to make sure you're okay. He never does that, which is probably why a certain redhead is standing at his door, wide-eyed, gawking at you. Once he had caught wind of Bakugo's absence at the agency, he raced over to make sure everything was okay. He could have never anticipated seeing you. The two of you stare at one another, unable to say anything. You take a stand and open your mouth to say something, anything, but the wind is pushed from your lungs when Kirishima gulps you up into his arms. He cries. God, this man cries and sobs with no yield as he just holds you. Restraints don't appear to exist anymore and you spill again, clutching onto him with unceremonious content. He doesn't ask any questions and just weeps into your shoulder, fearing the worst if he were to let go.

Everyone else had assumed you were dead. Why wouldn't they? After two, almost three, years, why would you believe a person to still be alive? Not them. They kept looking, searching, and scouring every last mineral in this damn country to try and find you. Now they have you back in their lives? They swear by All-Might that you will be waited on, pampered, loved, and cared for until they see the remnants of your old self again. It will take time but they waited this long for you, right?

No time in the world is more worth it.

It's probably worth mentioning that I could very clearly hear the chorus to Childish Gambino's song 'Heartbeat' when Kirishima went in for the hug and now it's stuck in my head.

I should also probably work more on WSA but I think I need to do a few one-shots just to get me back in the groove. I hope you enjoyed and sorry if it feels a bit rushed in some areas :')

Did I proof read it? Unfortunately not.

[kanerallels]

A little late but! Some Kanera for @monthly-challenge Februfluff day 16: caretaking

Ever since Malachor, Kanan had spent a lot of time up at odd hours. A combination of nightmares, lingering pain from his wounds, and painkillers had seen him up in the wee hours of the morning while he was recovering. Even now that things were getting back to normal, he still woke up at random hours.

Some nights he went back to sleep. Others he meditated, either in his room or out on the far edge of the base.

And other nights, like tonight, the restless energy was too much for him. So he got up, slipping out of his room quietly so as to not wake any of the others on board the Ghost.

Kanan’s goal was the kitchen, as it usually was. Sometimes he’d make caf or tea, other times he’d make himself something to eat. Ezra had joined him a few times lately, so as he made his way down the hallway, he listened carefully.

He didn’t hear anything immediately. But as he entered the lounge, he sensed a familiar presence, and it wasn’t Ezra.

“Hera?” he asked, keeping his voice low as he frowned.

“Kanan?” Surprise colored her voice, and he heard her set down what sounded like a datapad. “What are you doing up?”

“Couldn’t sleep,” Kanan said, crossing the room to stand in front of the table she was sitting at. Letting his fingertips brush the tabletop, grounding himself, he said, “Is it the same for you, or have you just not gone to sleep yet?”

Her hesitation answered the question for him, and Kanan held back a wince. Hera had always had a habit of working long hours, from the first day he’d met her. It had only grown worse since they’d joined the Rebellion. And these days it had reached a fever pitch. “When was the last time you got a full night’s sleep?” he asked.

“When was the last time you did?” Hera countered, and Kanan couldn’t hold back a grin.

“That’s different,” he said. “I’m at least trying. You’ve been up since crazy early this morning— you need rest, Hera. We need you operating at your best.”

He heard her sigh— a sigh that he recognized well. It was the stubborn one, that meant she had no intentions of listening to him. “What we need is more people in this Rebellion. Until then, I’m what we’ve got. The longer I let these things slide, the worse it’ll get.”

She’s definitely not gonna listen to me. Plan B, then. “Okay,” Kanan said with a sigh. “I’m going to make something to drink. You want something?”

“Yes, please,” Hera murmured, her voice distracting as she tapped at her datapad. Already back to work. Kanan grimaced as he headed into the kitchen. This wasn’t going to be easy.

It took him a few minutes to locate the kettle— someone had moved it from its usual place. Filling it with water, he set it on the stove and started sorting through the tea boxes in the cupboard.

Sabine had recently gone through the cupboards and relabelled everything. She’d used a Morse code inspired system of raised dots and dashes, so Kanan could still read the labels. It was still taking a little getting used to, but it certainly helped with baking. Or, in this case, locating tea.

It wasn’t long before he found the teabags he was looking for— Chandrilan tea, fairly well known for its soothing quality that helped with sleeplessness. Leaving them on the counter, he grabbed two mugs from the cupboard just as the kettle started to whistle. He was pretty certain that he’d gotten the right mugs— he and Hera had drunk caf together enough times that blind or not, Kanan would know the shape and feeling of her favorite one in his hand anywhere.

Setting them down, he carefully filled them with hot water from the kettle, and added the teabags. Leaving them to steep for a while, he went to the other side of the kitchen and started digging through the fridge. While it wasn’t absolutely necessary to his plan, Kanan was pretty sure it had been a while since Hera had eaten— thinking back, he didn’t remember her being there with them at dinner. Internally, he cursed. I’ve been way too distracted lately. That stops now.

He almost got out the ingredients for waffles— but if he did, there was no way Ezra wouldn’t be out here in less than five minutes. His apprentice had an uncanny ability to sense when Kanan was making waffles, and the last thing he needed was more people up right now. The current goal was to get Hera to sleep, not keep her awake longer.

So instead, he pulled out a container of leftover chicken pot pie and heated that up. Filling a bowl with it, he stopped to collect their two mugs and a fork, and headed back out to the lounge.

Hera was still absorbed in her datapad, and didn’t notice as Kanan set the bowl, then the mug in front of her. Kanan paused for a minute, then said, “Hera?”

“Hmm?” Her voice was distracted, and Kanan sighed.

“Sorry about this.” Reaching out, he plucked the datapad out of her hands.

“Wha— Kanan!”

Tucking the pad under his arm, Kanan reached out with the other hand and pushed the bowl in front of her. “Eat,” he said firmly. “And have some tea. I’ll give it back when you’ve finished.”

“Kanan—”

“Hera,” Kanan said, his voice a little more forceful. “Just do it.”

There was a brief pause, and Kanan could picture the struggle in Hera’s eyes. Finally, she let out a long sigh. “Fine. But I’m getting back to work after that.”

Kanan chose not to comment on that. Instead, he settled next to her with his own mug. Listening to the sound of the fork clinking against the bowl, he sipped his tea, letting the silence settle around them.

It was a little while before Hera spoke. “Thank you,” she said quietly.

Kanan smiled into his mug. “Any time, Hera. Have you drunk your tea yet?”

Letting out a huff, Hera said, “You know, you’re awfully hover-y tonight, Master Jedi.”

“Making up for lost time, Captain Hera.”

“I’m glad.” Her response was softer, a little warmer, and Kanan felt her shift a little closer to him, shoulder bumping against his.

There was a brief silence, then Hera said, “So, what’s it gonna take for me to get that datapad back?”

Kanan laughed. “Tell you what. You drink your tea, and I'll let you have your datapad back.”

“Datapad first,” Hera said. “And don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing, dear. It’s not going to work.”

Handing her the pad, Kanan said innocently, “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Uh-huh.”

As Hera leaned forward, picking up the mug of tea, Kanan slid nearer to her, closing the distance between them. She didn’t protest, nestling in the crook of his shoulder with a quiet sigh. Kanan wrapped her arm around her shoulders, and they settled into an easy silence.

The next little while passed by peacefully, with Hera working at her datapad and Kanan keeping her company. However, as time ticked by and Hera finished her tea, he could sense her getting more and more tired. The sound of her tapping at the datapad was less frequent, and he heard her stifle multiple yawns.

Gently, he brushed his fingertips up and down her arm, a repetitive, soothing stroke that was sure to lull her to sleep. It was one of his most surefire tactics, and it didn’t disappoint. Kanan felt her head bump against his shoulder before pulling upwards again. “I know what you’re doing,” she mumbled, her voice heavy with sleepiness.

Silently, Kanan reached out with the Force just in time to catch the datapad that slipped from Hera’s fingers. “I know,” he murmured as her head dropped against his shoulder. “You can yell at me tomorrow.”

“Sounds good.” Her words trailed off into an incomprehensible hum, and Kanan smiled. It was only seconds later that he felt her breathing even out into the slow rhythm of sleep.

“Sleep well, Captain Hera,” he whispered, pressing a kiss against her temple before closing his own eyes. He had a feeling nightmares wouldn’t bother him here.

[bestjeanistmonster]

How did Nicky's Sonic's friends react to him being alive and becoming a criminal?

Well uhhhhh safe to say not well

Amy and Tails don't even know who this ‘Harley Quill’ guy even is at first, Sonic did look quite different from Nicky (different quill style, being cobalt blue instead of light blue, having green eyes instead of brown eyes, his muzzle, chest and arm fur being pale instead of tan) but he does seem very vaguely familiar, but they pretty much brush it off cuz they were fairly certain that they didn’t know anyone that’s as batshit insane as he is.

To them he was just Eggman’s new lackey, an extremely dangerous one that’s as fast and unpredictable as the wind itself, the big ass hammer he had with him didn’t make him any easier, and he was irritating as hell. Safe to say the guy was a problem, a problem they needed to solve cuz if they didn’t take him down they won’t have a chance at stopping Eggman, the only reason they could even find as to why this guy was even working for Eggy was out of pure respect and devotion to him and everything he stood for, looking up to him as a mentor figure. So at least they had that answer.

Literally a week since Harley Quill’s debut as Eggman’s new sidekick and Gotham is in complete and utter chaos so they needed to figure something out fast but all throughout Amy and Tails can’t shake that sense of deja vu they feel sometimes when they fighting and bantering with this punk

Then at some point Amy gets kidnapped after Sonic gets the drop on her with his hammer knocking her out and taking her back to the hideout as a hostage but Knuckles manages to find a blue quill he accidentally left behind so they head back to the batcave to scan it and triangulate eggman’s location. They know Eggman's gonna wait to do some sort of attention drawing showstopper to kill Amy off but he won't do anything till Knuckles gets there so it fortunately gives Knuckles the time to run a dna scan

Meanwhile Amy is chained up on a giant dart board (for fun mostly) where she receives a formal introduction to Harley Quill, informing her that his name is ‘Sonic’ and now that he’s not currently trying to kill her she actually manages to get a better look at him in proper lighting with his hood down. He looked very familiar, he sounded very familiar, the way he spoke, his little quirks like the way he rubbed his nose was familiar but who-

The dna test finishes at the same time as it clicks in Amy's head

Then all three vigilantes are filled with shock and absolute horror

“…Nicky?”

They couldn’t believe it, it couldn’t be true, this ‘Sonic’ person couldn’t be Nicky, he was nothing like the Nicky they once knew, the Nicky they knew would never have done the things Sonic had done, the Nicky they knew was dead, it just couldn’t be him, it couldn’t be! …but it was, it was him… he was here, he was alive

They were pretty much in shock, how was he alive? Why was he willingly working with Eggman? What did Eggman do to him to make him like this?

How could they have left him? He was alive this whole time and they couldn’t find him

Knuckles was feeling high-key guilty cuz he had given up on finding him too, thinking that Eggman had killed him but Tails and Amy hadn’t, and now their best friend was a turned into a monster because he didn’t listen to them

They're gonna struggle to fight him for a bit, it was Nicky, he's their friend, Tails's brother, how could they hurt him?

However ‘Nicky’ clearly had no qualms about hurting them

"C'mon, where's that fighting spirit i saw earlier? Run outta steam?"

However when they try to talk him down and reason with him, tell him they know who he is and try to get him to stand down, call him ‘Nicky’ he straight up laughs in their faces cuz he wasn’t Nicky anymore, Nicky was a weak loser who could barely stand up for himself, and now thanks to Eggman he wasn’t that anymore, he even ends up thanking Knuckles for not finding him sooner which rlly fucked him up

Essentially it was a clusterfuck of a situation and Amy and Tails were devastated. But they couldn’t deny the hope that they had that they could eventually get Nicky back, bring him over to the good side with the power of friendship and leave behind this ‘sonic’ persona and just come home, even though down the line Tails’s outlook on the situation would sour and become more bitter cuz he thinks that Nicky just abandoned him for a fucking clown of all things

[doiefics]

work can wait for other days

pairing: baekhyun x afab!reader

prologue: what could possibly surprise baekhyun more than discovering you at work on a typical day, but well, he's a gangster

genre: gangster!baekhyun +  established relationship!au + fluff + crack

wordcount: 1,000

warnings: pregnancy + very slight violence

It was a typical Thursday, late in the morning. The commute was rather sluggish, but perhaps it was nothing compared to everyone's speed at work.

They were not to blame, for any exciting thing, no matter how small or big, was always distracting enough.

You see, the brainstorming process starts even before the work at hand is done and dusted, maybe like already drooling over that tiramisu for dessert when your plate barely has starters on it. 

For the majority of people, it was a Friday's worth of waiting, but you were just as impatient and eager—but not because it was the weekend.

As you obstinately paced up and down the waiting area, you were fairly certain that you were irking the receptionist.

However, everything came to an abrupt stop even before the train of your flawless thoughts could reach the first junction.

It was "pretty loud for a hospital." You said these things to yourself in a low voice as you joined the other human meerkats, their necks reaching as far as they could and their minds unusually interested.

Your senses lately appear to be much more perceptive. 

An array of about half a dozen black cars, quick in speed and quick to hit the breaks, creating those overwhelmingly annoying screeching sounds, were to be seen.

Accompanied by a ridiculous number of men, guns appeared like toys in whosr hands. The next thing you knew, the front glass at the hospital was shattered, and even though it was both chaotic and intimidating, you watched this without a look of worry on your face because you were used to witnessing similar happenings. 

"What is he doing over here?" You weren't concerned until now, noticing a strangely familiar face amid the towering, intimidating, strong males. 

Before he could even take off his charcoal black Ray Ban shades, more men were at the scene, dressed in suits and shining leather shoes, wrists with expensive timepieces, you see, like any of those other rich men.

"This wasn't needed, we already negotiated that with you." One of them started pleading and rubbing his hands in front of the Ray-Ban guy, but you knew him too well to be able to predict his next action. 

He sighed. Dramatically. 

"Would be a shame if some killings were to happen at a place like this." He cursed, rolling his eyes and glancing around the hospital. The receptionist, who was in the middle of making a phone call, suddenly halted the process at his gaze. He smirked.

Okay, now that was unnecessary. 

The next thing you knew, he rolled the sleeves of his fancy blue shirt as his men basically yeeted away the other ones. You were sure more drama would ensue inside the closed chambers. Cliche power scenes like those in the movies.

"You really had to be here today, idiot!" You blurted it out, quietly, but not quite for the man's ear to miss it. The man would have been furious and snarky after hearing what you blurted out, but it all vanished at the sight of you. Considering that he was in the middle of attending to business, he was equally as astonished to see you here. 

"Y/N?" He was perplexed. This was the time one could normally find you at work. 

"Don't tell me you broke your phone again." You shook your head as his hands traced to his pockets, finding nothing but a severely cracked iPhone.

He signalled his men, with a flick of his fingers to continue with whatever they were here for. His eyes shifted like those of a five-year-old who just destroyed a pricey vase with his football as he turned back to face you.

"Don't give me that look." The scary man was scared of you.

To get the two of you to a more peaceful location quickly, you grabbed hold of his wrist. If you didn't, it wouldn't be long before gossip-hungry eyes began their customary camera recordings and active involvement on online forums. Picking up what seemed like a report from one of the desks. You had waited long enough. 

"This isn't time for paperwork, why are you here?" The man was chatty as usual.

"I told you about this hospital and its trashy director last week, right? Tough time extracting my money back from him." He went on.

"I didn't want any guns involved in the first place." And he never stopped.

"Really has the balls to come and plead at my face when it has already been about-"

"Baekhyun can you not keep quiet for a second, at least?" In his habitual pout, he attempted to cram his head within the papers before you hastily closed them, overwhelmed with unfamiliar feelings.

"I just hope your children don't end up being as chatty as you are." You crossed your arms and made every effort to keep your face expressionless. 

"Family planning all of a sudden?" Baekhyun was confused, again.

"You might be a big scary gangster or something, but did someone ever tell you you're just as dumb." You laughed at his bumbling expression.

"Wait!" His mouth was hanging wide, and his eyes were sparkling from the bliss he was experiencing. He simply wanted to be sure, and he wanted to be sure so much. 

"Are we.." He stopped. "We're having a baby," As he drew his body nearer, his hands instinctively sought your stomach.

"Well, not just a baby." You raised your eyebrow. 

"We're having twins?" He was basically screaming out of sheer joy.

"We are definitely not going to be quiet, right, guys?" He said as he bent down, placing a quick peck on your tummy.

"Don't worry, Mumma, you're gonna love us either way." He winked, standing up again, this time closer to your face, resting his forehead against yours.

Yet another rackety thud was to be heard, business was being taken care of properly. Baekhyun took a quick glance at the side.

"Maybe work can wait for some other day." 

masterlist please refrain from plagiarising, translating or posting outside of this platform

[fandomnerd9602]

Wolf Spider pt. 4

Sam Carpenter x Spider-Man!Reader

It wasn't supposed to be like this. Ghostface wasn't supposed to know where you were. And now because of that, Anika's life was now on the precipice of life and death. You switched back into your civilian clothing and rushed back to the hospital.

You ran into the waiting room to find Sam, Tara, Ethan, Mindy, and Chad. Mindy was crying her eyes out as she rushed up and started wailing away at your chest, trying to somehow punch you. A fool's errand due to your enhanced spider strength. But your friend was in pain, as much as you, she needed this.

"You bastard!" Mindy practically screamed through her tears, "where were you?! Why didn't you come sooner?!?"

"I'm sorry" was all you could say as Chad gently pulled his sister away from you.

"Doctors said Anika was stable but she's in a coma" Tara explains as she tries to remain calm from the nearby waiting room couch.

"Can't you call any more of your spider friends?" Chad asks

"Spider Society. And no" you whisper, "they'll define anything as a canon event. they're of no use, we're on our own"

"I wouldn't say on your own" a familiar female voice answers back, you turn and come face to face with Gale Weathers or as you know her-

"Hey Aunt Gale" you smile

"D-Do they know about-?" She makes a webslinging movement with her hands.

"We know" Sam answers back. "Hey Gale. Thanks for not publishing that story by the way"

"Dewey would've killed me if I did" Gale chuckles, "and Sidney would've sucker punched me." Gale gives you, Sam, and Tara quick hugs.

"She always had a mean right hook" you smile back.

It's then that you saw the ambulance pull in, the EMTs emerge with a gurney. On the gurney was Quinn, in a comatose state. Detective Bailey and a young woman followed close behind.

"Quinn?!" you tried to approach the gurney but Bailey grabs you.

"It's a medically induced coma" he answers, "s-she's stable but-" the older man begins to cry. You give him a little side hug. No father should be put through this kind of pain. You turn to the young woman, blonde, average height but you could tell there was a fire in her eyes.

"I'm FBI Special Agent Kirby Reed" the young woman introduces herself. "I've been tracking Ghostface sightings for years now."

"Cool" you huff, "there's gonna be a bunch of them in like two days time. Bunch of masked freaks"

"You referring to the Wolf Spider as well?" Kirby smirks, "I'm just glad we got one masked good guy at least"

"Not to dash the moment" Ethan interjects, "but where are we gonna stay? It's not like we have any safe spaces right now"

You give it some thought, you had to keep them safe, "I-I think I might know a place" you say.

You guide your friends, family, and a detective and an FBI agent to your hidden little apartment located in a clock tower. The whole housing area was right above the gigantic gears that ran the tower, surprisingly its very quiet.

The space was fairly big. Two stories, well a living room on the first story and a master bedroom on the second. Two futon couches, a bed upstairs, a TV, a simple bathroom and kitchen set up. And of course your makeshift research lab by the window which overlooked all of New York.

"This is your lair?" Mindy asks, "Like the Web?"

"The Watch Tower" you answer, "but I'm not gonna lie, the Web sounds cooler"

"How did you afford this?" Bailey asks with a chuckle, "I can't even afford rent in New York as it is."

"Saved some rich dude," you shrug, "It's his old apartment and he had it gifted to me. It's more of a base of operations. You'll be safe here."

You pull out the futons' beds. "Chad, Mindy, the futons are yours. Tara, Sam, bed's all yours"

"And what about you?" Sam asks

"Now's not the time for you two to get all romantic," Chad tries to interject but you lightly sock him in the arm.

"I have my ways" you form a hammock with some webbing. Bailey chuckles.

"I got my apartment closeby" Gale answers as she walks to the door. She gives you a quick nod before heading out.

"What about me?" Ethan asks as you throw a sleeping bag at him. The young college student sighs, "Right. I'm still a suspect"

You make sure everyone gets settled in for the night. You notice Kirby inspecting your lab set up. She admires your web shooters in particular.

"Can't tell you how many suspects I could apprehend with these. Quite a set up you got here" she smirks, "we could use you on the force"

"Too many rules" you smirk back, "besides these powers are my responsibility. And don't go telling your friends at Langley, I don't need the FBI trying to experiment on me"

"My lips are sealed" she answers back. "Glad to be working with you, Wolf Spider"

You make your way back to the bedroom, Tara's already sleeping peacefully. Sam not so much. She rises from the bed and you pull her into a hug. She breathes in your scent, just being in your arms brings her some ounce of peace. Her hands rub gentle circles on your back, like a soothing balm on your very soul. How your being ached for her touch.

"Promise you won't leave me again" she whispers. You give her a peck on the lips.

"I promise." you answer back. "I love you Sam, I won't let anyone ever hurt you again"

"I love you, my Wolf Spider"

Sam drifts off to sleep as you sneak out of the room later that night. You needed to clear your head. What you failed to notice as you snuck past your sleeping friends and family was that one of the genetically engineered spiders you kept in your lab, had snuck out of it's containment unit. And it had set up a little web right above your pal, Chad. The iridescent arachnid slowly made its way down to the sleeping jock.

You made your way to rooftop overlooking all of New York. You could only breath in and out. Ghostface wouldn't rest until Sam and Tara were dead.

Your mind was racing with so many variables. Canon events. What if losing Sam and Tara was a part of your web? Was it really something that you couldn't stop? What if your aunt Gale was another person you couldn't save? Was your fate truly set in stone? Would Ghostface take everything away from you?

We'll go after Ghostface first, The symbiote hisses, Let me take control. I'll have his head by morning.

"No" you shake your head, "I won't let you. Not after last time...Venom."

"Talkin' to yourself ain't gonna help, mate" a familiar British voice chuckles from behind you. The only one standing behind you was dressed in a punk rock outfit, spike studded boots, his guitar on his back and his denim vest adorned with little anarchist pins. He offers you a mischievous smile.

"I thought you weren't supposed to interfere" you smile before turning to face your interdimensional best pal, Hobie 'Spider-Punk' Brown.

"You know I don't listen to authority, bruv" Hobie gives you a bro hug. "now let's work on catchin' your ghost"

To Be Continued...

Tags: @deafeningsharkslimeempath @ma1egamer @jacelion @jadenyukiyusakufujikiyutoduelist @jacksonandjacksonville @sonicqaulan

[bird-inacage]

Only Friends: Clues to Ray's Mother's Death

So I was rewatching Episode 2 earlier today when I suddenly caught a few details I didn't notice before, which are fairly easy to miss.

Does alcoholism run in the family?

We're shown that Ray is clearly not comfortable talking about his mother's death which suggests a degree of sensitivity around the circumstances or understandably he's still affected by the trauma it caused him. When framed in such a way, there's an implication of foul play or 'more to the story' than may first appear.

I noticed in the flashback that his mother seems to have a glass container and stopper laying on the floor beside her, and what looks like another in the palm of her outstretched hand. Both are clearly empty. The decanter on the floor looks like the kind you'd typically keep whisky in. There are also a couple more decanters off to the left side, sitting on the mantel. But it's intentional that the detail closest to us is blurred and easy to miss as the flashback is very brief.

When I initially watched the episode, I did get a odd sense of foreboding that there's more to Ray's alcoholism than meets the eye. It's possible that such a habit was triggered/exacerbated by grief, or maybe it has more to do with his upbringing than we'd like to imagine. If there's a possibility that his mother happened to be an alcoholic too, Ray could be navigating a very risky path that may lead to the tragic irony of following his mother's footsteps.

The Record Room

The other detail I noticed is Ray keeps a photo of her behind the bar. This is an interesting location for such a personal item to be on display. If you're wealthy enough to have a in-house bar, that tends to be a place for hosting/entertaining. So it's less common to find personal objects in these types of spaces.

It sits by the entrance to Ray's record room. When Ray leads Sand in, it felt like he was inviting him into a private area (or a secret hideout) of sorts. A little safe haven that is all his own in this enormous mansion. Ray reveals that the record(s) now belong to him since his mother's passing which informs us his mother had a passion for music. Ray may have set up such a room in tribute to her memory, or it simply provides him with comfort to have a physical manifestation of something he and his mother shared in common. In which case, the photo watches over this space.

If my first theory is on the right track, there is the alternative possibility that the photo acts as a stark reminder instead. Something that Ray tried to put in place to steer him away from the path his mother took. It also sits atop a glass cabinet that coincidentally contains many glass decanters similar to the one I mentioned above in the flashback.

Connections to Sand

Now I remember someone making a comment that there was obvious irony in pairing an alcoholic with someone who bootlegs their own alcohol. But perhaps the plot may toy with this idea more than just on pure irony alone.

What I do also really like is that the record(s) are a memory of Ray's mother. The fact that Sand is a musician and shares his mother's taste in music, creates an association between the two. Sand is a reminder of the things Ray's mother liked. And perhaps this is what also attracts Ray to Sand. There's something about him which feels comforting and familiar.

[freya-fallen]

Yandere Sebastian Michaelis

CWs: stalking, demons, non-con kiss

word count: 1174

Part 2

It is the cats that draw him, naturally.

He first sees you as you're luring a pregnant queen into a carrier. By the way she butted against your hand, you were already familiar.

"I know, Your Majesty, but I want to get you home before that storm hits." You gaze at the impending clouds in the distance. There was a light snow just the other day, and the cold snap doesn't seem to be getting better.

The lady cat eventually acquiesces, and you saunter away with her.

A few months later, he sees you holding a little orange kitten up for an inn keeper as the man sits on his porch with his morning pipe.

"Rudy will be an excellent mouser, and he's easily the biggest of his litter. He'll keep away other toms."

The man's eyes narrow. "Is he snipped?"

You nod. "Yes, sir, and fully healed. You'll have no kittens from this boy."

After a moment, the inn keeper scratches behind one of the tom's ears. Even from a distance, Sebastian hears the purring of the content little creature.

"All right, I'll take him." There is an exchange, and then you're walking away.

Sebastian follows you home, a quaint little flat that is nevertheless neat-- well, except for the messes made by the Felines residing therein.

There are blankets hither and thither, makeshift toys, the occasional item that has been knocked from a surface.

As you enter, two little tufts of fur amble across your foot, playing until one bites too hard and the other shrieks.

"Alba, don't be so rough with him." You reach down and separate the white and cream girl from her grey brother, kissing both on their noses. "Sorry, Ash, honey." The grey kitten is the smaller of the two.

He watches for a few moments as you put out food. There are three kittens total-- the girl and boy he saw before, and another orange tabby that's lighter in color than the one you gave the inn keeper-- and their mother.

A scraggly old black cat waits for his own bowl. You favor him with pets as he eats, cooing at the ancient creature. "That's my boy."

Hung on one wall is a large map of the area, pins marking locations in different colors, little notes written across it. You hum and place another pin as he watches-- green. It's where the inn stands, unless he's mistaken.

Sebastian smiles to himself as he leaves.

--

You don't know you've attracted the attention of a demon. You're just going about your life, providing care for animals, fostering and finding homes for stray cats in particular. People treat cats like garbage so often, and they're really lovely creatures. Cats are caring, social, more intelligent than people give them credit, and can be quite useful.

You've placed mousers on so many farms and local business, even a ship or two.

Your life is fairly quiet unless there are kittens to tend (especially orphans; they take constant care when younger than six weeks).

And then you start waking in the night.

It's nothing, you tell yourself. Just the cats.

But something doesn't feel right.

So you sneak out of bed one night when you just can't put your mind at ease and down the stairs to your living area. Your current fosters are all staring at a shadowed corner, and Whisper (your senior cat, whom you found sick some years ago) sits in your rocking chair, alert. He turns to you with those lantern yellow eyes, then to the corner.

"H-hello?" You don't know what prompts you to speak.. maybe it's the way the cats are acting as if there's something-- someone there. As you watch, little Rufus trills and rubs against the darkness.

You gasp.

Everything seems to happen all at once.

The shadow blurs with movement. You trip over a stair and sprawl back on flight, elbows catching with a bang. The cats scatter. There's a delicate click across the bare parts of your floor. A creak. A soft chuckle. You squeeze your eyes closed.

"My, my, quite the perceptive little thing, aren't you?" The voice is like warm, velvet fur across your electrified nerves, and your fear heightens. "It's alright, Miss." Something brushes your cheek. Your breath rattles in and out.

"What do you want?" The words are so small you wonder that it--he-- they-- hear it.

There's another chuckle, like the being is hovering over you. "I'm merely satisfying my curiosity."

You frown, and the being reads the question there.

"I had to meet these lovely cats you keep safe and warm."

The ludicrous statement forces a nervous giggle from you. "You came to see my cats?"

"Indeed."

It's said with such seriousness that your eyes pop open and your breath comes easier.

In front of you is a man. He's quite handsome; tall, lithe, with hair that blends into the night, skin that gathers what little light slips through your windows, and eyes that bleed crimson even in the inky darkness. He smiles down at you, a beautiful expression.

"How did you get in here?" You wonder.

He gestures. "Through the door."

"But I locked it," you argue.

"Did you?"

Your tongue darts across dry lips. You're certain you did. You do every night. You're very careful about locking your door before bed.

"You know, you're very pretty like this."

Alarms bells sound in your head at the compliment, despite his affable manner.

Your eyes dart around the room, but there's no safety. You slowly ease up a stair.

The sculpted lines of his face fall into a frown. "Are you going to run away from me? That would not be a good idea."

"Why not?" You slip up another step.

His scarlet eyes gleam. "I don't know that I can resist the chase."

Your heart thuds against your ribs, your pulse becomes a rushing river in your ears, and you can feel the beat through the arteries in your throat. As though he can hear your terror, his lips spread in a wide smile.

In the darkness you can just make out the flash of fangs

You turn and flee toward your bedroom.

Before you make it to the top, a vice wraps around one ankle and tugs you down, down, down, bumping painfully along the way.

When you reach the rug in the center of your living area, he flips you into your back, kneeling over your prone form. "I told you running was a bad idea."

He looks like a cat with a cornered mouse. You cower, but his long fingers curls around your wrists before you can curl in on yourself.

"Now you've made me hungry."

Do those canines look longer? Sharper? And his nails are pointed and black. There's a strange mark on the back of one hand.

"You are too delectable." His tongue flicks wetly across his lips. As he begins to close in, you accept you're about to die.

Your body tenses, eyes shut, lips part with a gasp--

And something soft and hot presses to your mouth. Slick muscle strokes against your tongue, and you belatedly realize your midnight visitor is kissing you.

[pattycakes5516]

Defective Existence

You always had trouble communicating. Inside your mind was a chaotic mix of universes and thoughts. When it was time to socialize panic often set and you fell to the dark emotions. You felt alone until you befriended someone just like yourself but in his unique way.

SuguruXReader Modern AU

TW: Mental Trauma & Angst

But also contains a fluffier version of Suguru Geto

Chapter One:

"Suguru..." I hear her voice shaking on the other end of the phone and I instantly drop my controller. "Everything is too much." I could hear her breathing heavily.

"What is going on? Where are you?" I try to maintain a calm tone but I can't keep the worry at bay.

"The lights are too bright and it's too loud..." I strain to hear her over the loud music in the background. "Suguru..." The desperate way she calls my name causes me to stand up and rush to get ready.

"Drop me your location now." I say sternly and I hear her fumbling with her phone. After a few seconds I get the text. "Don't move. I'll be there soon ok?"

I haphazardly throw on the closest hoodie and shoes. I frantically search for my keys. I yank my bike helmet from the table. It sounded like she was at a party. Which was so not like her. Most likely she was pressured by someone. I curse as I walk out of my apartment.

It was late so I easily flew through traffic. My mind is racing to awful conclusions. Rage was forming in the pit of my stomach mixed with the unease and the unknown.

When I arrived my eyes instantly scoured the area. It was a small bar and people stood outside smoking. As I got closer I felt eyes fall on me. "Hey..." I hear as I saunter past a woman and ignore advances.

The bar was not big enough to have to look too hard. I find her alone sitting at a bench tucked away. Her eyes wide and staring off into space. That was not unusual behavior, she often spaced out into her own little world.

Tonight I almost didn't recognize her. Her hair was done and she wore a full face of makeup. Her outfit was form fitting, showing off every curve. A strange feeling bubbled up to the surface. I glanced around to make sure no one was watching her. I felt a need to shield her.

"Y/N!" I shout as I see a group of men whispering across the room suspiciously. I glare in their direction and they look away. Hearing her name she turns to me. Her eyes darted and pupils dilated. She still gives me a soft smile and my heart does a weird twist.

Y/N POV

Everything is overwhelming. Even though it was fairly dark the lights were too bright. The music was disorienting. The sound of voices melted together into a chaotic symphony. You wanted to leave but your body was stuck.

"Y/N!" You hear a familiar deep voice call out for you and you instinctively look for who it belongs to. Suguru... You feel your anxiety lessen as you meet his dark eyes. A comfortable and reassuring warmth rushed through you.

He reaches out his hand and you gladly grab onto it. He does not speak as he leads you towards the exit. "Y/N! Who is this?!" A female voice interrupts your escape. You look over and see your coworker checking out Suguru.

"He is my friend. I'm sorry I am not feeling well." You blurt out and she sighs. You can see the irritation on her face. You felt a bit of guilt since you had promised to enjoy the night.

"Well you're no fun. So you guys aren't like together?" Her eyebrows raise suggestively and you look up at Suguru, begging him to help. You just want to get away from the crowd.

"It's none of your business." Suguru replies curtly and he sounds very aggravated. "Look, I'm not interested. You left her alone at a bar obviously high on something. If you were a guy I'd drag you outside." He practically growls in her direction and you cringe.

"Rude... It was just a small amount of mushrooms. Not a big deal." She scoffs and rolls her eyes. She looks over at me with disdain. "Tell your daddy you're fine." She sneers and you gulp. Confrontation was never your strong suit in the first place. Right now the world is too vivid and blaring.

"I'm fine but tired..." You manage to answer and again her eyes roll. She places her hand on her hips and spins away. "Fuck..." you curse hoping this would not effect your working relationship. You could probably make a quirky explanation on Monday and it should be fine. That does not mean you will not worry the rest of the weekend.

A finger snaps in front of your face and you look over. "Come back to earth for me stargazer..." Suguru whispers with a grin. You smile back and nod, squeezing his hand. He easily guides you through the cramped area and outside.

You don't say anything feeling bad that he had to come out in the first place. You feel his gaze on you as you walk over to a convenient store's doors. "I'll be right back. Is that ok?" You nod softly and he releases your hand.

You close your eyes and inhale a deep breath, the fresh air cooling you down. You enjoy the natural sounds. No abrasive electronic base or flashing fluorescents.

Time has become irrelevant and before you know it Suguru returns with a water bottle in hand as well as a bag. "Let's take a quick walk. I brought my bike so that might be a bit much right now."

You walk over to him and follow beside him. He opens the bottle and passes it to you. You lift it to your lips and begin chugging the contents.

"Hey hey..." you could hear him trying not to laugh as he pulls it away. "Slow down there. Fucking hell..." You whine in protest and he audibly chuckles. "Don't look at me like that." Suguru warns, flicking your forehead.

You rub your head and sigh. "Sorry..." you mutter and he cautiously gives you the water back. "I get it..." You smirk and take a sip.

There is a comfortable silence as you both walk around a small park. The night sky dulls your heightened senses. You feel yourself relaxing into a state of calm. You watch him find a bench and sit down so you take a seat beside him.

"So..." Suguru breaks the quiet. "What the hell?" He asks, looking down at you. "I am used to something like this from Satoru. Not you stargazer."

He uses the nickname he had given you years prior once again. The tone was not as sweet as before. You don't speak up right away. You look down but he lifts your chin. "Nope you can't escape this one. Speak up."

"They were always asking me to hang out but I kept refusing. So I felt bad if I said no again." You shrug, frowning that he is still gripping your face in his direction. Those dark eyes looking into yours studying your expression.

"Ok. And the mushrooms?" His eyebrow raises quizzically. You feel a bit of shame. "You have done them before but never publicly. What were you thinking? With your anxiety? Y/N..." You could hear the concern even if he was being a bit harsh.

"I know but every..." you begin to speak and he lets go of your chin to cover your mouth. You grumble against his palm.

"I swear to god if you tell me because everyone else was doing it..." He hisses and you freeze up. He takes in a breath to quell his emotions. "Look, I'm the last person who can say anything. But something could have happened. The people you were with obviously are not trustworthy."

You know this and you do feel awful. It's just sometimes you don't realize how dangerous something can be in the moment. You curse yourself for your actions. Seeing your thoughtful face he uncovers your mouth. "Yeah. I realize that now."

Suguru gives you one last serious expression then he smirks. "I guess I was being a bit overprotective." He shrugs and ruffles your hair.

"Hey!! I paid money to have this done..." you complain, pushing his arm away.

"Ooo yeah..." Suguru makes a mischievous face and you feel you have made some kind of mistake. "You are all dressed up! I think I need a picture or no one is going to believe me." He begins to pull his phone from his pocket.

"Suguru Geto!" You call out his full name and reach over to stop him. "Don't you dare!" You did not feel like yourself and the thought that he would lord this over you made you nervous.

"Getting a bit feisty now..." With no effort he has both your wrists in one of his large hands. You look on in horror as he snaps a pic. "This is a reward for having to rush out in the middle of the night."

He lets you go and you cross your arms. "You're insufferable..." You mumble feeling embarrassed.

"You look real good tonight." He says suddenly and you aren't sure how to react. Suguru was not one to toss out compliments. If he did they tended to be disguised as insults.

"But..." You say expecting him to continue. You glare up at him but he was not giving you his usual cunning expression.

"That's all." Suguru says so nonchalantly that it throws you for a loop. You squint your eyes inspecting him suspiciously. "Ugh... you feel ok enough for me to drive to my place?"

You do feel a bit better now that you were away from the crowd. You nod and without another word you begin walking back to his bike.

As you make it over he studies your figure and your eyebrow raises in confusion. You were about to question him when he lifts his arms and pulls his hoodie over his head. Then motions for you to lift your arms as he puts it on you.

He then turns away and grabs a helmet and places it on your head. You smile to yourself and fasten it. "See, hair was going to get messed up anyway." He laughs and you elbow him lightly. "Ouch..." He feigns hurt and you grumble. Before you could call him a name he has lifted you up onto the back of the bike.

You grip the sides as he straddles the front. He looks back at you and you give him two thumbs up. His chuckle vibrates his back as you grip onto him. He shakes his head in amusement and starts the bike.

The ride was not too long. You were thankful because your heart was racing. You were never a fan of bikes, lacking the protective shell of a car. Your mind being a bit foggy, your eyes and ears being sensitive due to intoxication this was not ideal. When you were pulling in Suguru gave your hand a squeeze to reassure you.

The moment he parks your hop off unsteadily. "Woah..." Suguru quickly grabs onto your shoulders balancing you. You're pulled into a tight embrace as he tucks your head into his chest. "You're okay..."

Your mind racing, you close your eyes tight. You just now notice your body was trembling. Suguru whispers softly that you are safe and your fingers dig into his back.

After a few minutes you take a deep breath and he pushes your hair from your face. "It's cold. Let's get you inside." You nod as his dark eyes search your expression, worry present on his own.

Timeskip

"Why didn't she call me?!" You hear a familiar voice whine as you are awakened from a deep sleep. Still groggy and unaware of yourself you remain quiet.

"Because she probably didn't want to cause you any trouble." Suguru whispers sternly and the other person scoffs. You begin to adjust to your surroundings and open your eyes slowly.

"I'm her fiancé!" A voice shouts followed by a sound of pain. "Alright fuck didn't have to get violent..."

"Going to wake her up dumbass. Pfft fiancé my ass." Another muttered sentence and you begin to shuffle and sit up garnishing their attention. You recognize the soft white hair and lanky man arguing with your friend, Satoru Gojo.

"Hey there..." Suguru is the first to run over. Lifting your chin he asks, "Are you feeling alright?" You nod and then look over at Satoru who stands with his arms crossed, a sour look on his face.

"Satoru..." You mumble sleepily and look around. You were in Suguru's living room covered in blankets. You rub your eyes and curse because you forgot you had worn make up. Suguru smiles at you.

Satoru rushes over and shakes your shoulders. "What were you thinking?! If someone from my or your family had seen you!" You cringe as he glares down at you. "You're so stupid sometimes."

You feel a deep rage at the comment but you have no clue how to voice it. Instead you look towards your lap not able to look into his eyes. Suguru once again protects you as he shoves Satoru away. Your guilt for always causing him trouble surfaces.

"Like you have any room to fucking talk." Suguru practically spits in Satoru's direction. "You know the pressure she is under better than me."

At his words Satoru stills and his anger disappears from his face. "Sorry." He says softly and you look at him with no expression. "I know this is just a contract thing but we have to be careful. I shouldn't take it out on you. For that I am sorry."

"Okay..." You mutter still trying to recover from his explosive reaction. You should be used to them by now. Not from Satoru he was usually very fun and easy going. But from your father and other members of your family growing up.

Everytime someone shows any form of aggression your body automatically shuts down on you. Taught that if you simply act as if you don't exist then the conflict will end quicker.

Suguru is still glaring at Satoru, who now looks worried. Those big blue eyes are sad and confused. "I'm fine. It's fine." You say wanting to make the tension cease. To make everything okay again. "I should have thought about everything. I'm very sorry."

Satoru sighs heavily and you swallow your emotions. He was not a bad person. You had been forced into an arranged marriage for about a year now and you always enjoyed working with him on plotting how to extend the date. Neither one of you is willing to truly get married. Both of you believe it's a trap.

"Suguru..." You call out to him and he looks over in an instant. He was your closest and longest friend. Currently the family who put you in this position had thrown you away when you were younger. Your mother was young and fell for a man outside of her societal circle.

They exiled you with your dad. He struggled for a while and things were tough financially. To make matters worse your father was emotionally abusive. You took the blame and accepted responsibility as a child.

Because of that you could not relate to those around you that were your age. Until one day you met Suguru by chance. He was rough around the edges and rumors followed him around. When you met one day and noticed him eyeing your food you offered him some. Just like that he looked for you each day.

Without his presence you were not sure if you would have made it to adulthood. You pushed each other to do better. Just as you both had a bit of a steady footing on life your family returned. Since they had no other female heirs you were the perfect bargaining chip.

Since then you have had your life monitored. Though they never accepted Suguru, that was one thing you refused to change. If they wanted obedience they had to.

"Let's get some take out..." Suguru notices your pause after calling out to him. Both men exchange glances with each other. Then Suguru turns to leave the room.

"Y/N... I'm an asshole." Satoru pouts and sits beside you. You laugh which causes him to smile. "I know it sucks when you have a bad trip. Are you feeling better?" He takes your hand and his thumb rubs gently across your palm.

"Ooo yeah. Suguru brought me back and played some ocean sounds and made a pile of blankets on the floor. I'm good." You say gently and he nods.

"Who knew he could be so sweet." I sensed a bit of bitterness in his tone. I was about to question him when he grins and looks at me. "It's like your superpower. You're able to tame the untamable."

You have never quite understood why people were so scared of Suguru. He was serious and a bit gloomy at times. You always enjoyed conversations with him. You had never seen him do anything violent.

"I guess so." You whisper still not understanding. You gasp in surprise when Satoru grabs you into a tight hug. You feel his breath on your neck and you shiver involuntarily.

His deep voice whispers seductively, "You really are cute..." Your body is tense and you grit your teeth. Your cheeks feel warm and the heat travels down your body. His hand moves down his long fingers sliding to your lower back.

"Satoru..." You manage to call out, but still unable to move. He pulls back with a mischievous grin. Those blue eyes focused on your own. He makes one small mistake, looking to the side for just a second.

"Satoru! Another voice echoes aggressively throughout the room. You turn to see Suguru practically snarling. You look back at Satoru and that grin has formed into a condescending sneer.

"Who hurt you Satoru Gojo?" You ask, in a serious tone. His expression falls and you get a glimpse of his true sadness. You take his hand and squeeze it. He takes in a sharp breath. After a few seconds he pats your head.

"I'm heading out." He proclaims standing up. "You look really beautiful today Y/N!" He shouts, passing by Suguru who shakes his head. He pauses beside him and whispers something to Suguru. Suguru's eyes widen and he frowns.

What was that.... Do they have something going on? That was your thought as Satoru gives you a wave and walks out the door.

[pinturas-gran-guerra-aire]

1918 04 Remember me - Russell Smith

Remember Me? depicts a hypothetical but plausible encounter between and Bristol F2.b of 48th Squadron, RAF and a Fokker Dr.1 triplane piloted by Leutnant d. R. Friedrich "Fritz" Kempf of Jasta 2 (Boelcke). The scene depicts Kempf zooming up and past the Bristol, catching the crew by surprise. The client was fairly specific about the attitudes and positions of the aircraft, but he left the overall composition and the choice of Bristol markings up to me.The Bristol Fighter was a maneuverable, heavily armed two-seater biplane, and one of the most successful fighters of the war. It got off to a poor start during "Bloody April" when it was introduced to the Western Front by the inexperienced pilots. Believing that the aircraft was structurally weak, pilots avoided violent maneuvers during combat. It was soon realized, however, that the Bristol fighter was actually a very sturdy aircraft that could be maneuvered as if it were a single seat fighter with rear protection. Bristol crews met with great success by using their aircraft in that capacity. By the end of the war over 240 pilots and gunners achieved ace status in the type. My choice of markings for this particular Bristol was personal. Growing up in SC I often attended the Shawfest airshow at Shaw Air Force Base located in Sumter. In my 20’s, as a budding aviation artist, I donated a painting to the 20th Fighter Wing which was based at Shaw AFB at the time. For those reasons I have had long felt a familiar connection to Shaw AFB. A few years back, though that connection became very personal. While doing some research on Ancestry I found that I had a great great grandfather who was a Shaw and who was born in Sumter, SC. I knew immediately there had to be a connection to Shaw AFB. After further research I came to find that Shaw AFB was named after 1st Lt. Ervin David “Molly” Shaw, the first Sumterite killed in the WWI & the only Sumter Aviator to die in combat. Shaw served with the 48th Squadron, RAF, British Expeditionary Force. In combat, he is credited with shooting down two enemy aircraft. On July 9, 1918, well behind enemy lines on a scouting mission, he and his British observer were greatly outnumbered by enemy scout planes and they perished in battle. They were flying Bristol F2b B-1113 at the time. As it turns out, 1st Lt. Ervin David Shaw, after whom Shaw AFB is named, was my great-grandmother’s cousin!Frederich "Fritz" Kempf was born in May 1894 in Freiburg in the town of Breisgau in the southwest of Baden-Württemberg. At age 19, he joined infantry in October 1913 and by August of the following year was promoted to Unteroffizier . After being wounded in battle and a lengthy hospital stay he applied for a transfer to the Luftstreitkraefte. Once accepted he arrived at FEA 3 in Gotha on May 6, 1915. He was then sent back to Freiburg to complete training and then on to FEA 9 at Darmstadt at the end of November 1915. In March 1917, after serving with various aviation units, he received the Iron Cross 1st Class and joined Jasta 2 "Boelcke". He scored his first victory on 29 April - a BE2c near Le Pave. His second was a Sopwith Pup on 5 June at Masnieres, then the 3rd was a Camel on 20 Oct. at Gravenstafel.He was sent to Jasta-Schule I as an instructor , returning to Jasta Boelcke in January 1918. On 8 May he scored his fourth victory, a Camel west of Steenwerke. He returned to Jasta-Schule I in August 1918 where he served until the end of the war. Although he only had 4 victories to his credit at war’s end, Kempf was none the less a respected and valued member of Jasta Boelcke. He died in August 1966.Of the aircraft that Fritz Kempf flew during his wartime career, perhaps the most recognizable were a pair of Fokker Dr.1 triplanes which carried similar

[smartycvnt]

Loving You*

Title: Loving You

Pairing: Felicity Smoak x Reader

Warnings: smut, oral (f receiving), vaginal fingering, top reader, bottom Felicity

Word Count: 1594

Felicity furrowed her brows as she watched Ash's location on the screen. It had been risky for Felicity to agree to help Ash out after Oliver kicked her out of the group. He belived that Ash was dangerous and all too willing to cross lines that Oliver had drawn in the sand. Technically, he was right. There were things that Felicity and John had hidden from Oliver for Ash's sake. Felicity was pretty sure that even Laurel had hidden a few things for the younger woman's sake.

"Ash, get out of there. Oliver is on his way," Felicity hissed over the comms. "Ash, please."

"Whatever you say," Ash grumbled. She wasn't happy about leaving her post, but Felicity called the shots. Especially whenever they had to work around Oliver. The last thing that Ash wanted was to get Felicity in trouble.

"I'm sure that whatever you were looking for will be there tomorrow," Felicity said.

"And if it isn't, I did get the tracker on the crate. You can do your magic, and I'll chase it down then," Ash said. She found herself a rooftop to wait and watch Oliver on. "What's he up to in there?"

"Mind your business. I don't tell John what you're doing when he asks," Felicity said. Ash huffed as she crossed her arms, muttering about how bossy Felicity was being. "What was that?"

"I'm bored. When are you gonna be done down there? I miss you." Ash pouted. Felicity sighed as she tried to distract herself from the familiar tone of Ash's voice. It was an innocent enough statement, and to an extent, Ash meant it that way, but Felicity also knew the true meaning of Ash's words.

"Once Oliver comes back, I'll head over to your place," Felicity promised.

"I'm on a separate comms channel, right?" Ash asked.

"Why do I think I'm going to regret telling you yes?"

"Talk dirty to me," Ash said quickly.

"You're ridiculous," Felicity laughed. She had never been good at talking, especially in that sense. Ash was smooth, always knowing just what to say in sexual situations to make Felicity impossibly wet. Ash was, for lack of a better word, a complete heartthrob. She easily could have a body count that would have put Oliver and Tommy to shame, but Ash refused to talk about her "former" ways. "You're going to get me in trouble one of these days."

"Alright, I'll head back to my place. I can't wait to see you, love you babe," Ash said. Felicity felt a familiar rush of heat creeping up her neck at being called babe.

"I love you too," Felicity said. Ash got the feeling that Felicity was trying to be quiet, like there was someone around. It couldn't be Oliver, who was still inside of the building as Ash made her way back to her place. She was nearly halfway home when she heard the police sirens rushing towards where she had come from.

There weren't a lot of good things that Ash could say about Oliver Queen, but the man could be punctual when it counted. Felicity just barely managed to get back to Ash's apartment before Ash did. Despite having seen Felicity earlier in the morning, Ash felt like her breath had been stolen right out of her lungs. Felicity seemed to get a bit antsy with Ash's staring, but Ash couldn't help it.

"You look gorgeous," Ash muttered as she leaned in for a kiss. Felicity closed the little bit of distance between them. The first kiss was fairly tame, but Felicity could tell that Ash wanted so much more.

"Let's get inside." Felicity grabbed onto Ash's free hand. Ash led Felicity inside and all the way back to her bedroom. It was quickly becoming their space, as was Felicity's house. Ash was happy about it, but she didn't quite know where they'd go from there. Felicity wasn't ready for anything serious after Oliver, and Ash had never gotten this far with someone before.

The few steps to Ash's bed were ones that Felicity had been making quite a bit in recent weeks. She let out a sigh of relief as she laid back on the mattress. This was the first night in three weeks that they had gotten home without being utterly exhausted. Three weeks that had gone by both in the blink of an eye and much too slow.

"Hi," Ash said as she moved to straddle Felicity. Ash's fingers tickled against Felicity's sides. Felicity let out a small laugh at the sensation. Ash bit her lip as she let her eyes drag down Felicity's body. Felicity had never felt overly good about herself, but Ash made her feel like the most beautiful woman in the world.

"Hey." Felicity felt a little lame with her reply, but Ash had started it. If there was one thing that Felicity had learned, it was that Ash was not nearly as smooth as the media thought she was. Felicity was beyond grateful for that, though, because she doubted that she could have handled Ash any other way. There were already so many moments with Ash where she couldn't believe that what was happening wa real.

"I've missed you," Ash said sweetly. Felicity suddenly felt a little lightheaded under Ash's gaze. It wasn't nearly as heated as it had been moments ago. Ash constantly switched between pure lust and adoration that made Felicity feel like it's swallow both of them whole. She was terrified of not being able to love Ash the way that Ash very obviously loved her.

"I missed you too," Felicity mumbled. Ash smiled, as if she hadn't expected Felicity to say anything back. There had been moments where Felicity had been too taken aback to reply, but she had always tried to rectify that. The last thing that Felicity wanted to see was Ash trying to hide her love for anything.

Ash leaned forward to kiss Felicity again, as if she could sense the tension forming between them. Felicity closed her eyes and let herself get lost Ash's lips. Ash had softer lips than anybody that Felicity had ever dated before. If Felicity didn't know better, she'd think that Ash was put on Earth just to kiss people. There was no telling how much of Felicity's day was spent thinking about kissing Ash whenever nobody else was around.

Felicity felt her glasses being removed, and Ash's kiss went from gentle to much firmer. Felicity parted her lips with a small gasp as Ash's fingers snuck beneath the waistband of her skirt. Ash didn't venture any further with her hands as her tongue slipped into Felicity's mouth. Felicity could fully taste the remnants of the energy drink and gum that Ash had earlier in the day. The flavors paired together to bring out the subtle sweetness that Felicity had on the tip of her tongue after kissing Ash.

Ash's hands started to move to undo Felicity's skirt, and Felicity lifted her hips up to aid in the cause. Ash moved slowly back up Felicity's legs, caressing the inside of her thighs. It was like torture until Ash's fingers hooked around Felicity's underwear to pull them down. Felicity wanted to tell herself that she was above being so horny for Ash, especially after they had been sleeping together for months, but that simply wasn't true.

Felicity held her breath as she waited for Ash to make the next move. Ash didn't leave Felicity waiting for long. She dragged her finger between Felicity's folds. Ash let out a soft moan at the feeling of how wet Felicity was. Felicity had to look away when her eyes met Ash's. She squeezed her eyes shut and blindly reached towards Ash.

Ash leaned forward enough for Felicity to grab onto her. She made sure to let Felicity get grounded before she slipped two fingers inside of Felicity. Ash felt Felicity pull her forward and hold her close. Ash turned her head just enough to pepper Felicity's chest and neck in kisses. She could hear the small moans and sighs coming from Felicity's mouth, each one a little breathier than the last.

Ash could feel Felicity dripping around her fingers as they pumped in and out of her. It wasn't nearly fast or hard enough for Ash to consider it fucking. Felicity wasn't someone who Ash would have felt comfortable truly fucking, not unless Felicity begged her for it. In Ash's mind, Felicity deserved all of the softness and intimacy that Ash had run from in the past. It was much different than what Ash was used to, but in the end, Ash felt better about making Felicity cum than anybody else.

"Don't go," Ash muttered as she came to lay next to Felicity. She withdrew her fingers slowly and began to move to wipe them away when Felicity stopped her. Ash watched with wide eyes as Felicity took Ash's fingers into her mouth. "Fuck, I think I love you."

"Are you going to say that every time I come over to your place?" Felicity asked, a teasing lilt in her voice.

"I'm pretty sure that I love you other places too. It's just easier to say it here, safe space and all," Ash reasoned.

"Well, I know that I love you too." Felicity grabbed a hold of Ash's cheeks and kissed her. Ash melted into the kiss, whimpering just a little whenever Felicity broke it. "And I'm not going anywhere, not anymore. We're not running away from each other, we're well past that point."

[thesightstoshowyou]

Permission

Part 6

Asa Emory x AFAB Reader x Jesse Cromeans (NSFW)

(Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5)

Summary: Chromeskull joins the party.

Warnings: Implied Stockholm syndrome, blood, heavy gore, minor character death, violence, threats, use of “she,” nonconsensual face fucking, a little daddy kink, Asa and Jesse flirting.

A/N: Hohoho lookie here! Finally, a part 6 to my multi chapter Asa fic! I thought it would be fun to add Jesse into the mix and tie my little universe all together

*You can find more poly Reader/SkullCollector fics on my Masterlist*

~~

The untouched mug on the counter grows cold as you stand frozen in the kitchen. You stare, wide-eyed, at the calendar hanging on the wall. It’s Friday again.

Asa has been gone for an entire week. Seven whole days. This is the longest he’s ever left you alone with no explanation.

Something must be wrong.

You’re certain if the Collector had been stopped, the story would be endlessly broadcasted on every station. There has been nothing on the news about his capture. So, the question remains:

Is he dead?

Had a trap gone awry, a victim escaped, gained the upper hand?

The thought should fill you with glee, elation, relief. You could be going home any day now. Yet, all you feel is cold dread, fear so heavy in your gut it’s made you too sick to even finish your coffee.

What do you do?

Slowly, your gaze shifts until you’re eyeing Asa’s dogs. They’re both staring at you intently, ears perked, like they know what you’re thinking. You’ve seen first hand what they can do to a person. You were warned, and the Collector doesn’t make empty threats. They’ll tear you to shreds the moment you reach for the door handle.

But you can’t stay here until the groceries run out.

You exit the kitchen, deliberately ignoring the front door as you move. Paws click on hardwood as the hounds follow, only pausing their measured pursuit when you ascend the stairs.

It takes some fiddling with the weighty lock on the medicine cabinet, but you eventually manage to work it open. Mismatched eyes scan the bottles until you find what you’re looking for: Diphenhydramine.

Pills rattle as the bottle rests in your trembling hand. In your mind, a battle rages. Asa will kill you if you accidentally overdose his dogs. There’s no question about that. You’re fairly certain you know the dose to give them, confident even.

But, say you’re successful? He’ll most certainly kill you for leaving the house.

How will you get to the hotel? You know where it is, a fact you’ve kept hidden from the Collector. Once, in the days of your imprisonment, you’d found a tear in the peeling wallpaper, a hole in the rotting wall beyond. The terrain was familiar, a place you knew was close to the shooting range your uncle used to take you as a child.

Then, after you make it to the hotel? Asa will kill you for knowing where it’s located, for showing up unannounced. You’ll be too much of a liability.

All options lead to death. There is no outcome that will ensure your survival.

But you were dead the moment you fell into that trunk anyway.

~~

You spare one final look at the dogs sprawled out on the living room floor, furry chests rising and falling with slow, sedated breaths before you depart, front door clicking shut behind you. Silently, you cross the porch, descend the stairs, hurry into the moonless night.

~~

Sweating, panting, you deposit the e-bike you’d stolen behind a pile of scrap metal. Even with the help of the little electric motor, you’re exhausted. Sitting around Asa’s house all day isn’t doing your stamina any favors.

Quietly, you sneak around to the back of the dilapidated hotel. It stands silent, casting an ominous shadow. Any passerby would be oblivious to the house of horrors contained within. You’d never wanted to return as long as you lived.

Yet, here you are.

There’s a crack in one of the boards covering a set of windows. Carefully, you wedge your fingers into the break and pull, peeling away the plywood little by little. Every snap makes you jump and whip your head over your shoulder, but your noise alerts no one. You may very well be alone out here.

Once enough board has been peeled away, you reach in to lift the latch on the widow. It takes several long minutes of shoving and wiggling before the ancient frame gives and slides open. Hastily, you squeeze inside.

The smell hits you first; bleach, medical grade antiseptic, musty carpet, dust, all with an undercurrent of rancid decay. It’s like a punch in the gut, the scent bringing back the worst memories of your life. You clap a hand over your mouth and nose to silence your surprised cough.

From down the hall comes the rattling of chains, gurgling snarls. You hurry in the opposite direction.

Behind a stack of dusty, peeling books you find the hidden staircase. Hastily, you shove them to the side, heave open the creaky door, slip through. You are certain to close it tightly, lest any of those…people try to follow.

You’re careful on the stairs. Unsteady metal bars rattle under your hands as you ascend, one squeaky step at a time. You skip the top one—it is set to give way, something sharp undoubtably waiting below.

Now, you’ve reached the second level, the one with which you are most familiar. Still, you tread with extreme caution. Asa may have moved traps, changed things since you were last here. To come all this way just to be impaled would be less than ideal.

No sign of the Collector yet. You ponder where to search first. Raising your gaze, you make eye contact with the camera perched in the corner of the hallway. If he’s in the control room, he will know you’re here. The thought constricts your throat. Images of his cold, furious expression float to the forefront of your mind.

Stop it, stop thinking. Keep walking.

Carefully, you traverse the wide, main hallway leading to the display room. Ease over a trip wire, skirt around a loose floorboard. The huge wooden doors are ajar, just enough for you to slip past.

It’s quiet inside, eerily so. Icy blue light emanates from the display cases and makes the room feel colder than it actually is. Distantly, you hear mechanical whirring, but it’s further away, down the other hallway maybe—

Movement across the room, in your peripheral.

You startle, head snapping in the direction you saw something large and black slinking behind one of the glowing cases. For a one, hopeful moment, you think it’s Asa, but then….

A man emerges from behind a case, pale light glinting off the shiny, chrome skull mask he wears. He’s tall, incredibly so. He wears torn black nitrile gloves and a black button up, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, tattoos littering his forearms. You notice one of the sleeves of his shirt is torn at the shoulder, dried blood visible on the skin underneath. He has more slashes on his neck, and he appears to be limping, though it’s difficult to tell with how he swaggers as he admires the macabre creations suspended within the displays.

Confidence. Recklessness. The man wears these characteristics as plain as the gleaming mask on his face

He pauses when he spots you trembling on the other side of the room and a moment of tense silence passes between the two of you. Slowly, curiously, his head tilts to the side and you can almost feel his eyes—hidden in the dark holes of the mask—tracing your figure.

A blinking red light catches your eye and you frown when you spot the camera mounted on his shoulder. Odd. What could that be for…?

From his pocket, the man in the mask produces a cell phone. Quickly, he types up a message and holds up the phone. You flinch when the phone screams at you, what sounds like various terrified women yelling his message:

‘Where did you come from, piggy?’

Unease twists your stomach in knots. You take one step backward. Slowly, the man withdraws his other hand from his pocket. Clutched in his palm is a massive, serrated blade. Your eyes grow wide as he nonchalantly swings it around a gloved finger.

You’ve seen enough.

Turning on your heel, you flee, hopping through the gap in the door and sprinting down the hall. Behind you, the door bangs open, smashing against the the wall, and you hear the click and whir of a trap. That should do it—

Spikes fly down from the ceiling, poised to skewer, but the man merely steps to the side, effortlessly dodging the trap. How did…?

Understanding hits, a missing puzzle piece snapping into place. This is why Asa has been gone for a week. This man. His injuries…these must have been inflicted by the Collector.

Is Asa hurt too?

Is he dead?

You don’t have time to linger and think. The man is already stalking toward you, knife at the ready, boots thunking on ancient hardwood.

You’re off in a blink, hurrying around the corner and down the next hall. You fly past rooms, duck under wires, hop over triggers. You turn left, then right.

Slowing, you listen. Silence greets you. Are you still being pursued?

Don’t wait around to find out.

Cautiously, you search around you for a set of stairs. You’re fairly certain there is a staircase around here….

A startled shriek rips from your throat when strong arms seize you around the waist, haul you off your feet, drag you into a nearby room. The door slams shut and you grunt when you’re smashed back against a crumbling wall. Glancing up, your eyes widen when find yourself face to face with an incredulous, unmasked Asa Emory.

His expression darkens and you feel him tense as he prepares to throttle you, but you’re the first to react.

“Asa!” you exclaim, leaping into his arms and wrapping your own around him. His familiar scent—musky cedar, cigarette smoke—fills your lungs and your racing heart calms, swells. Asa’s own arms hover next to you, half-outstretched as he stands frozen in place, like he’s unsure where to put them.

Coming back to himself, the Collector grips your shoulders tightly and pushes you back against the wall. “Why are you here?” he hisses, shaking you slightly for emphasis.

“I was…I thought…I thought you were dead!” you reply, tears welling up in your eyes. Asa’s brows raise, then furrow. He fixes you with a hard, calculating stare, like he’s looking for something.

You notice his eyes then. Dark purple circles sit underneath, darker than normal. He’s exhausted. Has he gotten any sleep all week? Next, a slash of red draws your gaze, your eyes falling to his chest. His sweater is torn, the skin beneath sliced open. His knuckles are bloody too, you notice, and there’s dried, flaking crimson caked on his left ear.

“You’re hurt,” you whisper, pressing your fingers to his chest. He shakes his head, like it doesn’t matter.

“You saw him,” he states. It’s not a question but you nod. “Is he close?”

“I don’t know. Who—

Asa doesn’t let you finish. He grips your wrist, throws open the door, peeks outside before dragging you out and around another turn, past a hidden doorway, down a flight of stairs. You pass that room—the one filled with bloody instruments, stainless steel gurneys, vials of evil smelling liquids, terrariums, and empty, torn trunks—and enter another.

He closes and locks this door as you survey the various monitors mounted on the walls, the costumes and weapons hanging on hooks. The control room. On a nearby table sits a huge, serrated knife, the twin to the one the masked man wields. The Collector must have gotten it away from him during a skirmish.

You turn to face Asa, timid, terrified he’s going to hurt you for showing up here, but you find his weary gaze elsewhere. He’s watching the screens, dark eyes scanning, searching for the intruder.

You both spot him at the same time, strolling along one of the second floor hallways. He peers inside rooms, swinging that heinous blade around a finger like he has all the time in the world. Is he still looking for you, or for the Collector?

Asa sighs and slumps into a chair. Finally, he glances in your direction. The annoyance in his eyes makes you bite your lip and flinch and, on reflex, you drop to your knees.

The Collector blinks wearily and exhales sharply through his nose. “Watch him.” he orders, pointing at the screen. Earnestly, you nod, jumping to your feet once more and gluing your eyes to the screen.

Rustling behind you tempts you to look, but fear of disobeying more orders keeps you still. Tearing of paper, clinking of something metallic—easy to ignore—but it’s the hiss of pain that makes you twist around.

Asa’s shirt is gone and he fumbles with the antiseptic, the strange angle of the laceration on his chest difficult to see on his own. You hesitate for a moment, but the shaking of his hands prompts you to act.

Watching the man in the chrome skull mask out of the corner of your eye, you take the antiseptic-soaked gauze from the Collector’s fingers and gently dab along his wound. You wager his pure exhaustion is the only thing keeping him from gutting you on the spot, but if the tense look on his face is anything to go by, you’re in for it later.

If there is a later.

Asa hands you the liquid bandage and, as you carefully apply it along injured flesh, the deep vibration of his chest heralds his voice.

“There have been a series of murders in the south. You’ve seen it on the news, I assume.” You nod, vaguely recalling the story: Videotapes sent to police showing the brutal murders of various women.

Wait. Videotapes? You glance at the monitors again.

The camera on his shoulder.

“Him?” you exclaim, looking back to Asa in shock.

The Collector nods. “He fits the description.” You don’t question how he knows this. Instead, you wonder why the man is here. Your question must show on your face because he murmurs, “I’m not entirely sure why he’s here, but I suspect it’s something to do with me.”

He can read your damn mind.

You reach for more gauze to take care of his split knuckles, but find the first aid kit empty. He’s used it all up.

You know where to find more though….

“No,” Asa snaps, shaking his head when you raise your gaze to his face. Chewing on the inside of your cheek, you glance at the monitors. The man is all the way on the other end of the floor above. You could make it back with more gauze before he noticed….

Asa’s hand darts out, grips your jaw, squeezes hard as he forces you to meet his frigid gaze. “No.” It’s sharp, final, the look on his face sending a thrill of icy fear down your spine. He’s had more than enough of your disobedience.

“Yes, Sir,” you whisper, eyes lowering submissively. A strained beat passes, your jaw beginning to ache under Asa’s rough grip. Worse pain is finally coming, you’re sure of it—

Calloused digits ghost along your upper arm and you flinch in surprise, eyes flying back up to his face. Heat instantly curls in your belly, a conditioned response to the way his hungry gaze assesses your frightened expression. It only takes the pressure of his thumb tugging down your bottom lip for a whimper to sneak past your teeth.

The Collector seems to remember himself then. There’s a quick inhale as he sits back, eyes snapping to the monitors, hands releasing you, pushing you away. Your own hand flies to your chest to feel your heart hammering under your palm. Thickly, you swallow, steadying yourself. On screen, the intruder still stalks through the halls, nearer than he was last time you looked.

Leaning his head back against the wall, Asa’s eyes close. Your own flit between his face and the cameras, the masked man closer now. He’s directly above you both, near the secret staircase. Back to Asa, his arms are lax, his breathing steady…. Asleep. How exhausted he must be to allow himself to sleep while you’re here, awake.

Back to the monitor, the man now picks at something on the wall, head tilted to the side, inquisitive, searching. He’s going to find it, the little divot in the wall revealing the hidden entrance.

You look to the door lock—will it hold—then back to Asa’s sleeping figure—should you wake him—long fingers sneak under the hook, pull, loud creaking of wood, it’s open, he’s on the stairs—

“Asa,” you hiss, hands wringing in front of you. The Collector doesn’t respond, doesn’t move, too fatigued to be pulled from his slumber. Thump, thump, thump, you hear the measured steps as the intruder descends the hidden staircase.

Do something! Distraction. You need to make some kind of distraction, something to draw his attention away from the both of you.

There’s no thought in your head as you move to the door, tug it open, slip outside, close it again. Going right will take you down to the basement, to the pen of the Collector’s drugged once-humans. To your left, the room of empty trunks and medical supplies, the staircase just beyond.

Left it is.

You reach the medical room just as the man rounds the corner. Spotting you, he doesn’t hesitate this time and instead sprints directly toward you with a surprising burst of speed. Heart leaping into your throat, you dive through the doorway, slam the door shut, twist the heavy lock.

The man rams into the door and you yelp, stumbling back into an empty gurney, sending it clattering and crashing into a closed trunk. A desperate, muffled scream from within pulls another shriek from you, your hands flying up to your mouth.

There’s someone else in here!

WHAM, WHAM!

He kicks the door, metal thudding noisily under his boot. Next to you, the trunk wails and shudders.

Shit, now what? You had not intended to endanger another person, even if their fate has already been sealed. But, if you linger too long, the man will move on down the hall, finding the control room and a helpless, dozing Asa….

Your sweaty palm closes around a scalpel. Swearing internally at your poor excuse for a plan, you twist the lock then jump back, scurrying across the room as far away from the door as you can get.

Silence.

Then, the handle rattles as it’s twisted, hinges squealing as the door swings open. In saunters your pursuer, his frame filling up the entire doorway, fluorescents gleaming off the chrome skull mask.

You stare at one another, your hands trembling, his reaching in his pocket for his knife and his phone. Keys click and you wonder what shouted message awaits. You brace, muscles tense, ready to fight or flee.

‘Pretty piggy, aren’t you? Are you his little house pet—

Screaming startles you both. “HELP, OH GOD, PLEASE!” shrieks the contents of the wobbling trunk. The man glances from the trunk back to you, like he’s waiting for an explanation. Shouldn’t he know what they’re for by now?

You say nothing, shuddering breath the only sound leaving your lips. The man shrugs, stalks over to the trunk, kicks it over. It hits the floor with a clunk, a stifled groan sounding within. Locks click and the lid swings open.

With a cry, a young man claws his way out of the trunk, arms flailing, blood and sweat and dirt staining his clothes and splashed across his skin. You can only watch, trepidation turning to nausea in your gut as the man in the mask grabs him by the hair, twists him around so he’s facing you.

The man from the trunk is weak from dehydration and exhaustion, his fingers uselessly tugging at his captor’s arm. A pathetic wail leaves his chapped lips when the serrated blade passes before his wild eyes.

There’s no chance for him, you realize, terror gripping your chest when the point of the knife sets against the victim’s ear. The man in the mask looks directly at you then and you can almost see the smile through chrome.

Your gasped, “Wait!” is interrupted by a sickening crunch as steel is forced into the ear canal and the skull beyond. The young man’s shocked expression freezes, goes slack, twists as the blade saws through flesh and bone. The cracking, snapping, squelching of sinew, the splatter of gore onto concrete makes you gag, stumble back, slap a palm over your mouth.

He doesn’t bother to look away from you, seemingly more intrigued by your reaction than what’s happening to the seizing body in his clutches. You so desperately want to tear your gaze away, but you don’t dare, not when you’re next. Not with the way he’s eyeing your quivering form like a hungry predator.

Your heart skips a beat when he glances down to grab hold of the mangled jaw bone. It’s the only chance he’s going to give you.

Go.

You sprint toward the open door.

Thud, thud, CRASH.

He smashes into you so hard it sends you careening into the wall, your skull cracking against its hard surface. Your vision blurs, darkens. Your knees buckle. The scalpel clatters to the floor, forgotten.

You would have crumpled to the ground if not for the hand gripping you around the throat, holding you up, torn, black nitrile squeaking against the skin of your throat.

Asa?

You blink. Blink again. Blurred vision clears. No. No, not Asa.

You must squint your eyes when a bright phone screen is shoved in your face. Dizzy, you read the typed message before it’s shouted at you:

‘Gotcha.’

Your dazed reflection stares back at you as the man bends, chrome mask level with your face. He glances down to type and you’re frozen in place when you realize he’s holding the knife, blade bathed in crimson. Across the room, the young man lays motionless, empty trunk at his side.

‘Who is he? What’s with the trunks?’ shrieks the phone. He wants you to tell him about Asa. You glance into the dark eye holes of the mask and shake your head.

Tap, tap, tap, tap.

‘C’mon, doll. You don’t want to ruin his pretty toy, do you? How long has he had this place?’ As you read the text, the bloody knife is pushed between your shivering legs, flat of the blade coming to a rest at the apex of your thighs. A squeak leaves you, your body tensing, blood rushing furiously in your ears. Again, recklessly, you shake your head.

A huff sounds from behind the mask. The man shrugs as if to say, ‘Suit yourself.’ Reaching up to his shoulder, he presses a button on his shoulder camera. Red light flashes. He’s recording. There’s pressure against your groin—oh god you’re really about to die this time—

Everything disappears all at once—the hand around your throat, solid chest against your arm, steel on your crotch—seconds before a knife whooshes past your face, so close the air disturbs your hair as it passes. Following its path, you see Asa poised in the doorway, hand extended. He stares daggers at you and the masked man who has backed away across the room.

A shivering breath leaves you and you scurry to the Collector’s side, heedless of the ire radiating off him in waves. You’re in so much trouble, you’re dead, he’s going to cut you into little tiny pieces and feed you to his bugs….

‘Loyal doggy you have there. Where do I get me one of those?’

The man nods toward you when his phone speaks for him. You glance up at Asa. His face is unreadable, cold expression firmly in place. The mask tilts back down as another message is typed. You hold your breath. The Collector waits. Above you, fluorescent lights buzz.

‘Nice set up you got here. How much you charging for rent?’

You frown. The man’s shoulders shake in silent laughter. He’s…making jokes?

Asa is silent, still. You wonder what he’s planning. More keyboard clicking heralds another message:

‘Tough crowd. Alright, this has been fun, but I need a steak and something to fuck before I lose my shit.’

Before you can even react, there’s a wheezing exhale to your left. You must do a double take, your jaw dropping when you discover the sound came from Asa. He’d…he laughed.

Your eyes dart from one man to the other. They exchange something, some look you can’t read, some feeling you can’t place. There’s a shift in the tension, like a wave receding. Asa’s chin lifts slightly as the other man’s head tips minutely to the left. Are they…communicating?

The cell is back out, quick taps, and then, ‘Unless you’ll let me borrow that one’s mouth.’ He points to you as the words are screamed from the speaker.

Incredulous, you can’t suppress the scoff. You wait for Asa’s quick retort—

“Go ahead.”

Your eyes bug out of your head, “W-What—

But, the man in the mask crosses the room before you can finish. He twists a hand in your hair, drags you away, shoves you to your knees. You cry out when they crack against concrete, then hiss and squirm as he works his pants open.

“Behave,” Asa commands and you freeze, staring pleadingly at him out of the corner of your eye. He stands as still as a statue. When he meets your gaze, your stomach plummets, horrible understanding settling there instead. He’s going to let this happen because this is your punishment. This is your punishment for leaving the house, for coming here, for leaving the control room.

You earned this.

The man grips your jaw, squeezes until your lips pop open. Instantly, warm, hard flesh pushes past your teeth, fills your mouth, forces its way into your throat until your gagging, choking on cock and musky scent.

He releases a slow exhale and peers down at you. The hand in your hair twists tighter, holds your nose firmly against his pelvis as your poor throat spasms to accompany his girth. Tears well up, spill over, streak down your cheeks. The thumb of his free hand comes up to smear them across your face before he retrieves his phone once again.

‘That’s good. Cry for Daddy.’

You barely have time to suck in a breath when he pulls back before he’s shoving you down his length again. Thrust after vicious thrust assaults your throat, strangled, wet whines doing their best to escape. Drool spills down your chin, wets your chest, drips onto your pants.

‘Chirps, doesn’t she?’ shrieks the phone.

“Like a cricket,” Asa comments.

Through tears, you stare up at the black eyeholes of the mask. You don’t have to see his eyes to know they’re intently focused on your wrecked expression. He doesn’t make a sound, but you can tell by the way his thighs shake under your palms he’s affected. Close too, you hope.

With one final buck of his hips, your nose is pulled flush against him once more, copious warmth spilling down your battered throat. Only a long sigh escapes him, the muscles of his thighs relaxing with his release. Finally, your hair slips free of his fingers so you can scoot away.

Gasping, coughing, dripping, you move to slump backward, but your back hits something solid. Black boots, black pants…. Tipping your head back, you find Asa looming over you.

He seizes you under the arms, hauls you to your feet, grips your jaw so you look straight into the chrome mask.

“What do you say?” the Collector demands. You fight the grimace that threatens to sour your features, something that would surely mean more discomfort. Instead, you speak through shuddering inhales:

“T-Thank…thank y-you…Daddy.”

The man in the mask saunters forward until he’s standing inches from you and Asa. For a moment, you panic, realizing you’ll be skewered first should this strange truce be broken.

Instead, the man snaps off his bloody gloves and tosses them over a shoulder. He reaches out, hooks his fingers in the waistband of your jeans, runs his knuckles along the skin of your belly.

He’s not looking at you, though. Even with the mask on, you can tell he’s staring straight at Asa. The Collector stares back, his own hands releasing your jaw, sliding down your body to grip the fingers teasing your skin. Asa guides the other’s hands to the button of your pants.

Permission.

The man pauses. Finally, he looks at you. Phone in hand, he types one more message.

“Well, sweetheart. I’m Jesse.” You’re stunned to silence, baffled beyond words. Asa helps.

“Manners.”

“…Nice to meet you…Jesse.”

[whorangi1104]

Ghoap AU: Frozen Hearts and Electric Souls

Chapter 2: Ice Shock

Ghost entered the debriefing room and sat in the only empty seat at the table- right next to the new sergeant. Just his luck. 

“Alright, this mission is a simple one,” begins Price, “Mostly to break in our new recruit, shouldn’t break a sweat.”

Price glances around the room before pointing to an aerial map of a building in the shape of a semicircle projected onto the board.

“This will be a mission done under the cover of night and no prowlers necessary, Gaz and I will approach from the east side of the building, while Ghost and Soap will attack from the west side to draw their guards apart. This is a budding terrorist organization, so it should be fairly simple. Distract, Disarm, Detain, and keep yourself safe. Got that?

Price sweeps the room with his gaze as the team all nod their acknowledgement, and dismissed them.

“We’re wheels up at 1900, bring night vision.”

The meeting ended in a chorus of scraping chairs as Ghost left the room. Soap shot him a grin before following gaz out, leaving Ghost to return to his peace in solitude.

—

Soap arrived at the helipad at 1850, the sky already dark at this time of year, to find Ghost and Price already there, discussing mission details. He had just checked his watch which showed 6:55 when Gaz tapped him on the shoulder.

“Ready for your first mission with us?”

“Doesn’t seem like a difficult one.”

“You won’t be saying that a few months later, this one’s the easiest one we’ve had in a long time, thanks to you.”

“Ye sayin’ I'm inexperienced Gaz?”

“You know what I mean, Soap.”

At this point, Price waved them over, calling for them to hurry their asses up and get in the heli, which they did and sat in their seats as the pilot started the engine and took off.

“Sergeant?’

“Aye Captain?”

“You’ll be seeing our gifts in action on this mission, and I hope you can put on your own show without slipping, can you do that?”

“Aye, I didn’t get the fastest land animal fer a prowler just to lag behind on a mission.”

“I hope you prove to be a good addition to the team, Soap.”

Soap gives Price a smile, “Yessir, Captain.”

As Price left, Soap spotted Ghost watching the interaction from across the heli, and turned to Gaz to ask him about it.

“Is the lieutenant always so cold and strategic?”

“I know exactly one personal fact about him, and he says that’s one too much.”

“What is it?”

“Sorry, but I value my life. Besides, I think you’ll find out yourself.”

“Challenge Accepted.”

Soap smirked as he started thinking about ways to crack open his lieutenant's shell, if their prowlers got along, he’d be more open? Or maybe…

—

The helicopter landed in a clearing of a forest towards the west side of the terrorist base, and cut the engines to lower the risk of detection. As Ghost hopped out followed by Gaz, Price and Soap, he could hear the sergeants exchanging some last minute words before they parted ways. Ghost put his hand on the wet ground and drew out some knives frozen from the water. They weren’t for using as much as just the familiar weight of having them, something Ghost had become accustomed to before he had become a gifted. After tucking them into his vest, he waited as Price pulled Garrick away from Mactavish, who approached him and playfully fist bumped him on the shoulder.

“Let’s get ourselves a win, yeah, Lt?”

Ghost only silently nodded in acknowledgement and trudged towards their assigned location waiting for Price and Gaz to get in position. The Scot walked along beside him in silence, but would’ve surely been talking his ears off if they weren't so close to the base. Ghost crouched in the bush, observing the only two guards on duty by the west door and rolled his eyes at them chatting away-clearly not fit for the job. He waited for Price’s signal to proceed through comms, while the sergeant set up his sniper.

*Ghost, Soap, how copy?*

*Solid.*

*Permission to begin. Wait for inside signal before infiltrating.*

*Got it, over.*

Zip. Zip. 

Ghost watched soap take out both guards nearly simultaneously, both dead before realizing what was happening. Ghost ran up to the door, followed by Soap, as he waited for Price’s signal. The moment he saw the water Price sent starting to flow from underneath the door, he froze it and felt Gaz’s wind a moment later, throwing the door open to the scene of the soldiers slipping on the ice, as Ghost turned to Soap.

“Got a way to stick, sergeant?”

“Aye, know how geckos work?”

Ghost gives him a skeptical look, “Geckos?”

“Static sticking.”

Soap smirked as his boots began to glow faintly from whatever he was doing, and Ghost couldn't help but be impressed with this solution as Soap shot down the enemies while staying steady on the ice. Ghost himself glided on the ice easily, freezing the exits and weapons while driving ice spikes through the terrorists trying to escape, trapping a few for interrogation later, and making cover from the gunfire.

Ghost and soap met up with Price and Gaz at the stairs leading to the basement, getting ready to clear it.

“Staying frosty, Simon?”

“Always, Captain.”

“Let’s go then.”

Price flooded the basement floor with water from the damp ground, and Ghost froze it, followed by gaz sending a gust of wind which was followed by yells as unsuspecting soldiers were knocked down. 

“Soap?”

“Yes captain?”

“Try out that thing we discussed.”

“Yessir.”

Soap took off his glove and put his hand on the ice as Gaz held them aloft with a cyclone of air.

“What the fuck-”

“Sorry Ghost, didn’t think you’d allow us to do it if we told you.”

“Fucking right you are, Garrick!”

Ghost saw Soap’s mouth twitch at the sight of him floating not-so-gracefully in the air and wondered if this was some plan of his, but his eyes widened as he saw the sergeant send electricity shooting through the ice, some of it jumping up at them at a worrying distance until Soap removed his hand as Gaz unceremoniously dropped them back onto the ground.

“Bloody hell, what the fuck was that? And you three didn’t think to tell me?”

Gaz shrugs, “Price said you wouldn’t agree easily.”

“And I’m still gonna use the three of you as target practice next time.”

“Nae, ye’d have te catch me first.”

Soap smirked and headed down the stairs while Ghost gave him a glare and followed with Gaz and Price. 

Gaz glances around, “Looks like you fried them Soap, six in total, dead or paralyzed.”

Price pats Soap on the shoulder, “Alright, time to RTB and let cleanup do their part.”

-Posted at 5pm, got pushed to the back of my mind. Bit better than the first chapter, but still not puplishable.

yes I’m aware its hard to transmit electricity through ice, it’s kinda to show how powerful soap is.

[girls-in-bikiniiss]

D o t

Alastor x OC

You hummed along to the easy listening station you had playing on the radio while you wrote in your journal as the evening wound down.

You loved the static sounds that accompanied the music as it swelled through the bell of your gramophone.

You had died fairly young, but you had been raised by your grandparents (may they rest in peace) who had live through the Great Depression. You were certain your grandparents ended in Heaven, the two graciously welcoming you in when your parents abandoned you. You were certain you'd come across your parents here in Hell, but that day hadn't come yet. Nonetheless, you had acquired you grandparent's antique taste.

"And that was Henry Hall and His Orchestra - Hush Hush Hush Here Comes the Bogey Man"

You heard the Radio Demon was back after a seven year disappearance, and bought the gramophone soon after he began his broadcast. You found yourself listening more and more. Something that first became sentimental quickly became an everyday habit. You respected him, especially after his broadcasting battle against Vox. You were never a fan of the Vee's in Pride Ring, but it was hard not to come across them. Their turf had expanded tenfold due to the last extermination. You lived in a border area, but it bordered the Vee's District and has started to be swallowed into the new territory.

"This next song has a similar sound, this is Flanagan & Allen's Run, Rabbit, Run!'"

You let your mind wander as the pen glided across the paper. You began to wonder what he was like, the Radio Demon. He was an Overlord, and yet, you felt like you knew him just by how often you heard his voice on the air.

"And now, a word from the Sponsors, 'Hazbin Hotel, a haven for has-beens like yourselves. Stop here to save a sinner!' 'Looking for something to eat? Stop by Rosie's Emporium, the food is To Die For.' Now, back to our regular schedule."

Who said he didn't have a sense of humor? You mused as you recognized the next song, Jambalaya by Fats Domino.

***

Sitting behind his sound board, the antlered demon checked his ratings, an old sonar looking machine that showed dots on the areas of active listeners. He noticed one dot that's been on the monitor for days now,

'An avid listener!'

His Cheshire smile grew.

He grew a habit, of checking that one spot on the monitor. It beamed, unwavering, even throughout the night.

The radio demon grew fond of this dot. How funny, he mused. You stuck with him through days of happiness, and days of strife. Your dot became his favorite to see. Consistent. Familiar.

Until it was gone.

Alastor felt his smile dull a bit, recognizing a sense of saddness when he first became aware of the absence. At first the thought it was a glitch. After he tapped the monitor, he came to accept his most reliable dot had vanished. He wondered what happened to the listener behind the dot.

'Maybe they got bored listening. Maybe they died. Maybe their radio busted from all of their listening and they're getting it replaced.'

He never stopped looking for the dot.

Until one day he noticed a new dot.

'Could it be?'

The new dot he noticed was just like the last, and unlike the others. While there was nothing visibly different than the other dots, this one stayed on the monitor like his dot. The one located in the Vee's District. But it wasn't in the Vee's district. it was closer.

'Did they move? Is my listener alive out there?' He hoped as he played more lively songs. The more he saw the dot move closer, the more happy he became. So much so it had become visibly noticed by his comrades at the Hotel.

"Hey, You's ever see Red smile like that?"

"What do you mean? he's always smiling."

"Nah, nah, theres sumthin diff'rent 'bout'm. He's genuinely happier."

***

You moved closer and closer to the hotel as you could. This could be your shot at seeing your grandparents again. You couldn't pass it up. Each time you managed to grab a room at a cheap motel, you listened to your radio.

You noticed the Radio Demon's music taste had jumped from easy listening to more bouncy and lively music. Currently, Feeling Happy by Big Joe Turner was playing, next you had heard his song "Hide and seek".

It felt like the closer you got the hotel, the more exciting the music was getting.

'No, that's just you. You're making yourself excited by thinking of seeing your grandparents.'

After a few months trekking to the Hotel, you made it. You were greeted by the Princess herself. The other staff seemed either too bored to introduce themselves, or too excited, like Nifty.

"Well, here's your room! I'll let you get set up!"

"Thanks, Charlie. I really appreciate it. I can't wait to get started."

You happily set up your radio, turning it on while you situated the rest of your belongings.

On the other side of the hotel, high in his tower, The Radio Demon noticed a new dot, coming right from the hotel. He took shadow form to teleport to the lobby.

"Charlie, did we get a new resident?"

The demon didnt even give her a chance to speak, her eyes gleamed as her answer.

Static came from his radioed smile, an electric buzz of excitement.

As he searched the hotel in his shadow form, he neared the room with the radio playing music from the record he left on. He could hear a voice humming along to the music. He fixed himself to look presentable, smile widening (You're never fully dressed without a smile, some may say), and knocked on the door.

With the sound of shuffling, the door swung open and a short figure met his chest. He looked down, finally seeing the face of his avid listener. He felt the satisfaction one does when the hunter finally finds his prey.

"Hello, Dot."