#i scrambled to draw this because i love when women cut their hair

[snvxiii]

I saw this listing of Vanille with her pigtails missing/broken off and, like, IDK I think she looks good?

[kafnixc]

hello i just read your hamel fic and my god you write so good. can I request for sub!langley x gp chief!reader?

Sub Langley mentioned!! I'll be happy to serve right away🤭 Who wouldn't want to see this woman on her knees just for you?

Pairing: sub!Langley x GP Chief!reader

Warnings: Crying during sex, Fingering, Overstimulation, Creampie, Squirting, Semi public(maybe?), Almost getting caught, Gagging, Brat taming, Slapping

Author's note: I love women that wear black latex gloves😈

You were in your office, signing paperwork as usual.. I mean, you are the chief of mbcc after all it's expected that you'd have a lot of work pile. But your handwriting was.. quite off, totally not because you have a certain sinner, Langley underneath you giving you a head.

A light creak to your door caught your attention, It was nightingale. You tried to compose yourself and force a small smile to your lips as she spoke "Chief, I came here to report about..." As nightingale continued to speak, you snucked one of your hands under your desk and grabbed a handful of Langley's hair as she sucked on your cock faster, taking the whole length onto her mouth eliciting a small inaudible whine from you

Your brows furrowed and you leaned your head back as you guided her faster, but you quickly snapped out of your world when nightingale spoke; "Chief.. are you feeling alright? You seem quite red and you're sweating." When she tried to step closer, you raised your hand and indicated her to stop "I-Im fine..! It's just.. hot in here that's all" you replied with a shrug, while nightingale stood there silently for a few minutes before replying

"mm.. if you say so, chief. I'll be taking my leave." You gave her a nod, as you watched her turn her back and silently leave your office. You let out a sigh of relief before grunting as you felt yourself twitch inside Langley's mouth "fuck.. ah— Langley.. m'gonna cum.." you whimpered out, as soon as you felt yourself drawing closer you pushed her head down, before spurting your cum inside her mouth down to her throat as you watch her gag on your cock

Langley pulled away before licking her lips and smirking as she jerks on your softening cock, making it hard again "Chief.. is that all you can give me? That's quite disappointing.." She taunted with that grin on her face.. oh how you wished to wipe that smug grin of hers.

Langley parted her lips to speak once more, but was surprised as your hand makes contact with her cheek "..what a needy bitch you are, so desperate for my cock.." you say through gritted teeth before dragging her out from where she is and placing her on your desk and parted her legs and gods.. she was soaked.

"Is this all for me? You got this wet from sucking my cock?" You hissed before landing a slap to her pussy which makes her jolt "Ah- chief.. you're being aggressive today.. did my taunting get to you?" She teased, but her teasing was cut short and was replaced with a scream as you surge your cock forward, forcing its way in her folds. Hands scrambling to find something to grip on but eventually she placed her hands on your back, clawing your clothed back

You hissed at the slight burning sensation on your back caused by her nails, your hips moving at a steady pace while you leaned down to press kisses on her neck "So good for me.." you whispered praises into her ear before suddenly fastening your pace, practically pistoning into her "Ah—! Chief— Oh!—" Langley wraps her legs around your hips, pulling you down "Gods.. chief!— don't stop.. don't..m'close.." Your eyes widened at the sight of her tears, and gosh.. it turned you on even more

Langley felt you slowly pulling out until only the tip of your cock remained inside her "Chief—" She choked out a sob at the sudden empty feeling but then you surged your hips forward, thrusting your whole length back and hitting that spot inside her. Your hands moved to her waist resting them there as you started pistoning into her

You knew her orgasm was approaching by the way she was clamping down on your cock practically making it difficult to move. It made you groan and more determined to make her cum as you also felt yourself drawing closer to your own orgasm, you leaned down to her neck leaving another batch of kisses and hickeys.

After a few thrusts, you bit down on her neck sinking your teeth into her soft flesh as you painted her insides white. Her eyes rolling into the back of her head while she comes around your cock.. you pulled out after catching your breath. You glanced at Langley's face to see her make up ruined, gods.. that made you so proud wiping that smug grin of her face and replace it with ruined make up and tears running down her face.

"Don't pass out on me now, we're not done" You thrusted two fingers into her folds, not giving her enough time to recover from her recent high which elicited a small whine from the Sinner.. "chief— can't.." you heard the Sinner murmur, which made you grin "Can't..? Don't give me that, I know you can baby.. give me one more" you cooed before moving your fingers in a painfully slow pace.

You watch as she squirmed in her position, watching how she whined and eventually starts to fuck herself on her fingers.. you found it amusing and.. pathetic. So like the good person you are, you fastened your pace curling your fingers on that spongy spot inside her causing her to throw her head back and squirted around your fingers, you instinctively secured the back of her head with your palm to avoid her head from hitting the desk

It was cute to watch her legs uncontrollably trembling, slick dripping from her pussy down to your now ruined desk. You pulled your fingers out before placing them in your mouth.. she tasted so heavenly, you took your cock and jerked it off until it was hard again. You pressed the tip on the Sinner's dripping entrance

"Y-You're still going?" Langley panted, clearly amused by your stamina "I can go till morning." You said with pure confidence before thrusting your whole length inside surprising the Sinner once more from the sudden stretch "We're still going whether you like it or not, I have enough stamina to go till morning, after all.." you lifted her legs up pinning them beside her head "This is supposed to be a punishment."

Edit: HELP ME THIS WAS NOT SUPPOSED TO BE POSTED YET, I ACCIDENTALLY POSTED IT. BYE

[nastybuckybarnes]

Of Kings and Beasts  -  Ten

Pairing: King!Bucky X Princess!Reader X King!Steve

Summary: Born a bastard of the King of Orlen, you’re thrust to the West to marry the Kings. However, the greeting you get is anything but warm, and your life with the King is far from enjoyable. He knows it isn’t your fault his husband is gone, but that fact alone won’t prevent him from taking it out on you.

Warnings: Angst, Injuries, Fluff, Language, Violence, 

Word Count: 2K

A/n: Okay y’all THANK YOU AGAIN SO MUCH FOR 10K FOLLOWERS IT MEANS THE WORLD TO ME I LOVE YOU GUYS SO MCUH OMG Anyway ahem here is part 10 and I hope you enjoy! We’re gonna have a more intense part coming next but until then, enjoy!

THIS SERIES CONTAINS SMUT AND DARK THEMES THAT MAY BE TRIGGERING TO SOME AUDIENCES!!! READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!!!

Series Masterlist

“We make for Asgard.”

~*~

“You look lovely. The colours of Asgard suit you well,” Thor says, his eyes raking over your figure from behind.

Adorning your body is a soft linen gown, the colour of cream. It is cut low in the front, a style Thor assured you is common in his kingdom, and has many different folds and layers to it, making it flow with every step you take.

The fabric itself is lightweight, and the straps lie thinly on your shoulders. The waistline is decorated with gleaming golden gems and is cinched rather tightly.

Over your shoulders is a dark red cape, the same colour as Thor’s.

Your hair is tied up away from your face intricately and elegantly, and a dainty diamond necklace rests around your neck.

You turn to face him, a deep feeling of unease settling in your stomach.

“What is to happen now?” You wonder aloud, eyes fluttering past his face and around the chambers that he’s deemed to be yours for the time being.

“Now we wait. The kings should be here soon, and then we will inform them of the letter you received. I promise you’ll be safe here, Petal.” He cups your cheeks and you swallow hard, nervous about the change in his attitude towards you.

“Thor?” You ask softly, taking a half-step backward in an attempt at removing yourself from his grip.

He surges forward, one hand dropping from your face to wrap around your waist as his lips crash against yours in a fierce and dominating kiss.

Your heart races in your chest and you shove against his face, trying to force him away from you.

Helplessness fills you as you realize that you’ll never be able to overpower him, and dread settles in your gut as he pushes you back until you’re pressed against the wall.

Your muffled cries for help, for him to stop, fall on deaf ears as his lips continue their assault against yours, prying yours open to give his tongue access to your mouth.

Thinking quick, you grip his bottom lip and bite down as hard as you can, drawing blood and successfully making him pull away from you.

He jumps back, one hand coming up to his mouth while you scramble back and away from him, chest heaving and eyes full of betrayal.

His jaw clenches and he takes a step towards you, only to stop when the doors to your chambers burst open.

“(Y/n)!” A familiar voice calls, two men rushing into the room and searching for you.

The tension in the room is palpable and the two Kings pick up on it instantly, their guards raising as they see the way you’re cowering from the blond King before you.

“Are we interrupting something?” Steve asks, his voice ringing with authority.

“No,” you say quickly, regaining your composure and squaring your shoulders as the words of the Valkyrie ring in your ears.

“Thor was just taking his leave,” you say pointedly, staring the King down for a long moment until he nods, bows then spins on his heel and leaves without a word.

You take a deep breath, power and fear chasing each other through your veins while your heart races in your chest.

“(Y/n), are you alright?” Steve asks softly, taking a step towards you and reaching for your hand. You yank it back towards your body, levelling him with a glare.

“If my purpose was solely to bear children, then why are you here if I failed?” The blond glances over at his husband, unsure of how he should address this.

“It is obviously not a secret. I have been threatened even since my departure, and the truth has been brought to my attention. So I ask again, why are you here?” James takes a careful step towards you, and then another, and another until he is standing just directly in front of you.

You keep your shoulders squared and your head held high, refusing to back down.

“(Y/n), there are things we must tell you... things we have not been completely honest about... things that involve our union, and our actions towards you. Will you allow us time to be honest with you?” You swallow hard but nod, wanting nothing more than the truth after all this time in the dark.

James takes your hand delicately in both of his and ushers you to the bed, sitting down beside you while Steve sits on your other side.

The brunet speaks first.

“We were told... by our council that we needed to find a wife. When they heard of our plans to join the two kingdoms of the North and wed each other... they tried to find any way to stop it. But upon seeing our power they relented until they realized that our reign would end if we did not have a queen.

“They gave us a timeframe to find a queen. One that could give us heirs and continue the lineage of both of us. We were presented with many women but you... you stood out from the many faces we saw.”

You frown, brows drawn together tightly as you ponder this.

“My purpose... right from the beginning was nothing more than what you had told me. What you said was true. What I was told is nothing but the truth,” you whisper to James, fighting back the tears that prick at your eyes.

Steve shakes his head, leaning closer to engage in the conversation. “No. Your purpose was... is to be our wife. A queen to our people and the mother of our children. You are meant to rule alongside us, not be behind or beneath us. You are our equal, although we have not treated you as such.”

You sniffle, shaking your head as if trying to shake your feelings away.

“Why have you treated me the way that you have? Why? What have I done to deserve such hostility?”

The two exchange long glances before James sighs and takes your hand, leading it to the thin scar at the base of his skull.

“Someone has operated on me. Altered me in a way that makes me hostile towards you and Steven. We do not know who, but we know that they are close enough to be near me without raising suspicion. I will never be able to apologize enough for my actions. I have hurt you far more than I ever could have imagined myself capable of. But with the help of doctor Banner, we were hoping to have more clues as to who is responsible for this. However, he is still in quite an unstable condition.”

You swallow hard, this new information having you beyond overwhelmed.

“Who would conspire against you in such a way? Who would have such hatred in their heart for the two of you that they would take it out on me?” The two kings sigh, their hearts heavy and their eyes filled with sadness.

“We do not know. But one thing is certain: we will not rest until we figure out who it is and until they are brought to justice.”

~*~

The two Kings settle in the guest chambers for the night, having insisted that you get your own space and that you are welcome to join them if you feel so inclined.

Your mind is still in shambles, thoughts scattered and emotions all over the continent as you prepare for bed.

A knock on your door pulls you from your thoughts and you softly call for them to enter, your guard raising in an instant.

“How may I help you, Your Majesty?” You ask, jaw clenched tightly.

Thor takes a deep breath then lets it out, pacing slowly around your chambers.

“I stepped very far out of line, (Y/n). I let my emotions get the better of me and I was foolish. I apologize sincerely for my actions.” You watch him with furrowed brows, not sure if you should trust him.

“You have... entranced me. Bewitched me. Your husbands have not treated you fairly and, even in the short time that I've known you, I can tell that you are a woman deserving of the world. And if the world cannot be given to you then you deserve everything in it. And yet here you are, cowering from your own kingdom because they failed to protect you.” You want to interrupt. To tell him that he is not aware of the extent of the trauma that the Kings themselves have faced, but you hold your tongue instead.

“I can only hope that one day you will be able to forgive what has transpired today. For I value your company and your companionship and I would be devastated to lose it in any way. However, I will not blame you if you were to push me away. I was out of line and I allowed myself to be weak in a moment when I should have been strong. You needn’t give me an answer tonight, but I am offering my sincerest apologies. While you are here the Palace is yours. Anything you require will be brought to you promptly.”

He’s quiet for a moment before clearing his throat, his eyes on the ground.

“I bid thee goodnight, and I hope pleasant dreams find you tonight.” He turns to leave and you sigh, shaking your head.

“Thor, wait.” He does, turning back to look at you with those soft blue eyes of his.

“I appreciate and accept your apology. I do not look at you any differently because of what transpired, and I am grateful that you came to explain it. I appreciate your friendship and I am glad to have found solace in you, and it would be a shame to squander it over something so trivial.” He smiles, relief and happiness plain as day on his face.

“Good. Thank you for your understanding, (Y/n). Goodnight.” He leaves without another word and you put your head in your hands, beyond confused and frustrated with the feelings stirring inside of you.

You would be lying if you said that the Asgardian King wasn’t attractive. And he has been a friend in times when you’ve otherwise had none.

Shaking the intrusive thoughts out of your head, you exit your chambers and pad softly down the hall, stopping in front of the chambers that have been set aside for your husbands.

You knock twice, butterflies finding a home in your belly as you wait for one of them to allow you entrance.

The door gets pulled open and James stands in front of you, the formal look on his face dropping to give way to a soft smile.

“May I join the two of you tonight?” You ask quietly, looking between him and Steve. The blond looks on eagerly from his spot on the bed, nodding his head quickly.

“Of course, My love.” You bow your head in thanks and enter the room, oblivious to the eyes following your every move from a dark corner of the hallway.

The door shuts behind you but you continue to the bed, crawling on next to Steve while James extinguishes the lanterns lighting the room.

Steve makes room for you in the centre of the bed, pushing the blankets aside to allow you to get comfortable. James climbs on behind you, waiting until you’re settled to get comfortable himself.

Neither of the Kings touch you. No, they stay a respectable distance away.

“I am not so angry that I will not allow my husbands to embrace me,” you say softly, eyes closed as the events of the day catch up to you.

You’re then being held on either side by strong arms and right then and there, in that very moment, you feel the safest you have ever felt in your life.

[someonestolemyshoes]

Hello, My Queen of Steaming Levihan Content...!!

If you want/whenever you can, could you please bless our ship with Levi getting hot watching Hans training in sport bra and tight ass shorts? (Like, he absolutely dislike mess but watch Hans goes all sweaty, with fire in her eyes and smile as she pulls her shirt out, and then all her muscles flex and go taut, grunting and breathing deep doing heavy exercises or competing with Nanaba in weight lifting would definitely make Levi wonder or remember how powerful it would be to feel her body hot like - alive like that - because she was having the time of her life f*cking the brains out him.)

Or, Captain Levi body worshipping Squad Leader Hans during heavy exercises because she.is.just.hot.as.hell.from.brain.to.toe.

Many thanks!!!!

I love your writing!!!

I played around with the prompt a little because I had an Image in my head as soon as I read this, I hope you don't mind :)

Order up! Careful, this one is spicy.

Hange stretched her arms over her head with careless ease, popping her spine and rolling her shoulders with a nonchalant grace. If she sparred with the same manic fervor she slayed titans, she’d stand no chance against this soldier bare-handed—for all Hange was tall, she was too slight to take the great oaf out by strength alone.

The lumbering recruit seemed to have come to the same conclusion. He leered, mopped sweat from his heavy brow and blew snot out one of his nostrils. Levi’s lip curled in disgust. Hange’s grin broadened.

**

Levi despised sparring.

It was an activity Erwin seemed to reserve solely for blistering summer days, when the sun arched high overhead without so much as one solitary cloud to temper the heat.

Today was no different. Levi stood at the inner edge of a great circle of onlookers, all gathering around a chalk ring etched unevenly into the dirt, where two measly recruits were heaving and wheezing as they grappled, feet scrambling for purchase in the dry earth. The rules were simple; the first to set foot outside the circle lost. Winner stayed on to face the next challenger.

The taller of the two soldiers won out. He slammed his opponent into the ground outside the edge of the ring, a ploom of fine dirt puffing into the air right at Levi’s feet. The sandy earth scratched at his throat and stuck to his lips and tongue, grainy between his teeth. The elation from the brats victory gave way quickly to a nervous gulp as the next recruit entered the ring. He was a tall, bulky thing, far more brawn than brain, with a crooked nose and deep-set eyes. He sniffed hard and spat into the dirt, rolled his neck on his meaty shoulders. The victor shuffled his feet into an unsteady brace and raised his fists. The poor bastard should have done himself a favour and stepped down with some modicum of dignity—his opponent left him face down ass up on the filthy floor before he could throw a single punch.

The burly soldier naturally attracted more meatheads. Testosterone fuelled idiots with no combat sense, barrelling in with heavy handed offense. Levi watched with disinterest as shirtless bull after shirtless bull took to the circle, feral and uncalculated in every move, baited by the hoots and hollers of their peers and the dizzy prospect of victory.

The reigning champion shoved and grunted his way through four successive rounds undefeated. He broke a sweat only from the heat. Despite their vigor, none of his opponents had enough weight to throw around to stand a chance. Levi took a liberal swig from his water bag, dangling it at his side and looking idly around for the next contender; he saw plenty of men pushing and shoving one another, snickering like fucking kids, while others averted their gazes, less than willing to draw attention. Plenty of the women looked about as bored as Levi felt, none fooled by the show of muscle and bravado.

And then somebody new stepped into the ring, and the excited buzz dulled to a murmur of intrigue.

Hange Zoë was grinning brightly, tying her hair up into a scruffy ponytail. Most of the soldiers had stripped themselves of their shirts, leaving the men bare-chested and the women clad in the black, military issue chest bands, but Hange was still sporting a loose vest, a size or two too big for her thin frame. Her face had a dewy glow from the heat, a band of pink over her cheeks and nose where the sun had caught her. She had kicked off her boots and rolled the tight legs of her pants up to the knee. Her bare feet sank lightly into the loose dirt as she stepped up to the edge of the circle.

From behind her, Mike called out. “Fight fair, Hans.”

Hange turned to shoot him a thumbs up, and hollered, “You’re getting the drinks in, remember!”

“Only if you win.”

Hange waved him off with a throaty laugh. The burly recruit eyed Hange with some confusion as she wandered closer, pausing briefly to tug her goggles off and chuck them over to Nanaba, who caught them deftly and shoved them into her back pocket.

Levi dipped slowly into a crouch, gaze following Hange’s idle path into the centre of the ring. He’d sooner shit his pants than admit it out loud, but Hange, despite all her pestering and prying and endless racket, still intrigued him. He found himself watching her often, across the mess hall, out in the courtyard, zipping through the trees during regular training drills, or else tuning into the sound of her voice while she talked Erwin’s ear off about some bullshit theory or another.

He preferred keeping Hange at arms length, but the distance made it difficult to get a good read on her. Levi had tried valiantly to ignore her existence as much as possible, but there was something about Hange that captured his attention time and time again. Something in her wide smile and bright eyes, her long, lean frame, in the way she carried herself, made his gut uncomfortably warm and tight, at times. Levi didn’t particularly enjoy this brand of curiosity.

Hange stretched her arms over her head with careless ease, popping her spine and rolling her shoulders with an easy, careless grace. If she sparred with the same manic fervor she slayed titans, she’d stand no chance against this soldier bare-handed—for all Hange was tall, she was too slight to take the great oaf out by strength alone.

The lumbering recruit seemed to have come to the same conclusion. He leered, mopped sweat from his heavy brow and blew snot out one of his nostrils. Levi’s lip curled in disgust. Hange’s grin broadened.

“You need a break before we go? Grab some water? Take a piss? I can wait.” She said, bracing her hands on her hips. The recruit’s knuckles cracked as he clenched his fists. He squared himself, and Hange shrugged. “Take that as a no. Alright then.”

Hange planted her feet, weight on her front leg and arms drawn up in defense. For a moment, the pair of them stood tense and still. And then Hange lunged.

Her opponent reacted in kind. He barrelled forwards, shoulder low, ready to plow Hange’s smaller frame right back out of the circle as soon as she locked with him—but at the last moment, Hange stepped cleanly to one side. She teetered on the balls of her feet, centring her weight while the soldier skidded to a halt, kicking up great clouds of dirt and throwing his weight back, barely stopping inside the ring. Hange blew her fringe out of her face.

“Damn. I was banking on a big bastard like you taking longer to stop.” Despite the setback, Hange’s smile was manic. She lunged again, but this time the soldier held back. There was some satisfaction in his caution, and Levi was pleasantly surprised at the way Hange weaved around his haphazardly thrown punches, quick on her feet, efficient in a way Levi hadn’t expected. His eyes were drawn to the bulge of muscle in her calves, in her thighs as she propelled herself around inside the ring. His gaze lingered on her back and shoulders as she threw her punches, thick knots swelling beneath smooth, tan skin.

The crowd hissed as one when the huge recruit landed a fist square into Hange’s gut. She buckled over his arm, air gusting out of her, but she sprung back smartly out of his reach while she caught her breath. Her gaze turned steely as she looked up. Sharp. Calculating. She wiped spit from the corner of her mouth with the back of her wrist. Exertion had flushed her face and sweat glistened on her brow, running in thin rivulets over her cheek, her jaw, down the column of her throat to pool in the dips at her collar. Levi’s stomach tightened, heat flooded his face.

Hange’s chest heaved. In the quiet that had fallen around them, he could hear each rasp of her breath, quick and catching in her throat. Strands of hair hung wild and loose around her face, damp with sweat, sticking to her brow and the side of her neck. Thin veins protruded on her forearms, wrapping around tense, twitching muscle as she flexed and clenched her fingers, gathering herself. Levi swallowed, his mouth painfully dry.

Hange held her ground, this time. She squared her feet, but waited in place, eyes locked on her target. The recruit kept his distance. His trepidation demonstrated one thing—he was marginally smarter than Levi had originally given him credit for. The change in his challenger's tactic made him think.

Unfortunately, Hange was smarter. And faster.

She darted around behind him and cut the heel of her hand up under one side of his jaw. His head snapped sideways but a great meaty foot slammed flat into the dirty, keeping him from toppling over. If Hange were a more desperate fighter, she might make the mistake of hitting him again—but she predicted him perfectly. To counterbalance, he threw his weight back round, twisting towards her. Hange sunk low, jammed her leg against the back of his calf and caught his arm in both her hands, and with a loud grunt and a solid heave, Hange pulled him over her shoulder. His back hit the ground with a resounding thud and a huge huff of fine dust.

Hange straightened up. The crowd erupted with cheers, and Hange smiled, delighted, as she offered the soldier a hand and yanked him up from the ground. She pulled the hem of her shirt up to wipe the sweat from her eyes, exposing her flat stomach and the grid of muscle bunching there, tightening with each panted exhale. Levi’s gaze caught on the waistband of her pants, slung low on her hips, exposing a defined V that dipped out of sight beneath the fabric. An involuntary groan slithered out of Levi’s throat. He masked it with a quick, gruff cough, and took a few long gulps from his water.

The circle of onlookers disintegrated slowly. Mike and Nanaba approached Hange with small, proud smiles, Mike clapping her between the shoulders. Hange strapped her goggles back into place and took the water bag Nanaba offered her with a grateful smile, swigging greedily from it. Levi watched the way her throat bobbed with each swallow, eyes stuck on the hinge of her jaw where skin pulled tight over sharp bone. His tongue darted out to lick involuntarily at his dry lips.

Hange swilled the gritty dirt from her mouth with one last mouthful of water and spat it out. Saliva dripped from her full lower lip onto her chin. Levi forcibly pulled a face—he should be disgusted, because she's fucking disgusting. He schooled his features into his signature look of distaste, just in case anybody caught him looking at her. Hange licked her lip with a grin, tongue red and wet against sharp, white teeth.

"Good fight, Captain?"

Levi trained his gaze intensely forward. Erwin had snuck up on him. He grunted, and sipped slowly at his water.

"Hange's full of surprises, as always."

Another noncommittal hum. Levi rolled his eyes up and to the side to where Erwin stood, arms crossed over his chest, taking in the scene. Levi clicked his tongue loudly and drew himself up to his feet.

"She's an idiot," Levi said. "He would've beat her to shit if he caught her."

"Mm. But he didn't."

"Lucky."

Erwin looked down at him with his brows raised. "Not skillful?"

Levi shrugged. He caught another glimpse of Hange between the dispersing soldiers—she had shed her vest completely now, and flung it over one muscle-bound shoulder, one hand braced on her cocked hip while the other articulated wildly in the air. She was still all smiles, the sun glinting from her goggles when she turned her head this way and that, threw it back in a laugh that carried over the space between them. Her chest was bound tight in a breast band and her stomach, all subtle lines and lean muscle, defined sharply as she cackled, bunching and shifting beneath her sweat-shiny skin.

"She's fast."

"She fights smart." Erwin smirked. "If a little dirty."

Levi would never have called Hange's technique dirty. He'd seen his share of dirty fights. He'd been in enough of them; Hange using her wit in lieu of matched strength was strategic. It was fair. Dirty was reserved for knives and broken bottles, and extra hands hidden away in dark corners.

"It was a stupid risk," Levi said, in favour of the compliment. "If he'd had two brain cells to rub together she'd never stand a chance."

"You're not giving her enough credit. You think Hange would pick a fight if she didn't think she could win it?"

"Yes," Levi said without pause. He had seen one close call too many because Hange had thrown herself in the path of one of the freakier titans, without a single thought for the consequences. Erwin chuckled quietly at his side and shrugged.

"It's nice that you care about her, I suppose."

"Who said I gave a shit about what trouble that freak gets herself into?"

Erwin said nothing more. There was an irritating smirk pulling at half his mouth. Levi curled his lip up in anger and turned to storm away, when a loud voice rang out behind him.

"Erwin! Levi!"

Levi tensed. He turned slowly back around and eyed Hange as she approached, still barefoot, still shirtless, still glistening under the afternoon sun. Her skin was mottled with dirt, lines smudged on her face where she had fruitlessly wiped the sweat away. Up close, Levi could see the way the military issue pants clung to her legs. The fabric was thin and flexible, ideal for use with the manoeuvre gear. It hugged her thighs in a way that made Levi's stomach flip. He ran his tongue over his teeth and looked somewhere past her right hip.

"Came to watch, Commander?" Hange stopped in front of them, hands planted firmly on her hips.

"Had to see what all the fuss was about. Who's round is it?"

Hange jerked her thumb over her shoulder towards Mike. Try as he might, Levi couldn't keep his eyes off of her for long—he found himself staring, transfixed, at the way her bicep swelled when her arm curled. He followed the line of her arm to her shoulder, and across her collar, all the way down to the fabric of her chest band before he caught himself. Face hot and gut tingling, he turned his face to the side.

"Big idiot never wins," Hange said.

"Rude."

Levi glanced up. Mike had arrived at Hange's shoulder, floppy hair falling over his eyes, but he wasn't looking at Hange or at Erwin. He stared at Levi with a horrible, smug expression. Levi scowled at him and shifted uncomfortably, surreptitiously hanging his water bag in front of his crotch to adjust his pants.  Fucking ridiculous. Half hard like a horny teenager.

"New bet," Mike said. "Fight Levi next. I'll buy Sina's finest vine if you kick his tiny ass."

Hange shot him an open, considering look, cocking her head. "You know, I've never seen you spar before."

Levi made a gruff noise in the back of his throat. He felt uncomfortably beneath her intense stare, like one of her specimen samples, pinned and mounted. Exposed. His groin tightened at the unbidden thought. After a moment's consideration, Hange shot him a sunny smile and threw her arm over his shoulder, jerking him into her side.

"I'll need a few practice rounds first. See what I'm working with. You'll do it, right, Levi?"

"Fuck off."

Levi kept his hands clenched around the neck of his water bag. Hange smelled strongly of sweat, salty and earthy from the dirt clinging to her skin. Gross. But to his own mortification Levi found himself drawing a deep, unsteady breath through his nose. Warmth flooded his gut. Hange felt hot against him, and solid, strong. The arm hooked around his neck held him tight, and the thigh pressed against his own felt like rock, unyielding.

Levi's mind offered him obscene involuntary thoughts, of digging his fingers into her thighs until the flesh bruised white under the pressure, using that firm grip to yank her hips back onto his—

He dug his elbow into her ribs. Hange shimmied away in discomfort, and Levi stepped neatly to the side.

"Mean, Levi," Hange pouted. She rubbed at the sore spot and sighed forlornly. "Sounds like a bust, Mike. We'll settle for Trost's piss water whiskey this time."

Hange shifted her weight from one foot to the other. "Are you two coming? It's on Mike."

"Oi."

Mike's fingers pinched at Hange's waist for her cheek. Levi stared at the spot where they gripped her, and his own grip around the water bag twitched and tightened. Her skin looked soft, and Mike touched her so easily, unbothered by the way her firm body felt in his hands. A rush of white hot envy pulsed through him, then. Levi struggled to swallow it down.

"Can't," Erwin said. "I have early meetings and I know too well what the three of you are like."

Hange shot him a wicked smile. "Excellent company?"

"Terrible influences. Levi will go though, I'm sure."

Hange turned his way again, a bright  hopeful look on her face.

"Like hell."

Hange's shoulders dropped. She recovered from her disappointment quickly enough, slinging her arm around Nanaba's neck instead, and clenching her fist into the back of Mike's shirt. "More for us then! We'll be at Smokey’s, if you change your minds!"

Hange dragged her friends around and the three of them set off in the opposite direction, to the place Hange had abandoned her boots. Levi looked slyly at Erwin, then back at Hange's retreating form. He bit back a groan when she bent over to scoop up her discarded shoes, cloth pulling sinfully tight over her ass as she did.

“You shouldn’t stare so much, Levi.” Erwin had a small smirk on his face, watching Levi out of the corner of his eye. “It makes it seem like you might be interested in her.”

Levi glowered up at Erwin, cheeks flushing. “Mind your damn business.”

Erwin held his hands up in placation. “I just thought I’d let you know. In case you didn’t want anybody getting the wrong impression.”

Levi wanted to punch the sly, shit-eating grin off of Erwin’s face. He turned sharply on his heel instead, throwing the darkest look he could muster for good measure, and stormed past the small crowds of recruits, lazily getting back to their own sparring practice.

**

Levi stepped under the dribbling shower head, cursing as the tepid water slipped through his hair and down the back of his neck. Most days he grumbled at the temperature, but between the scorching summer sun and the relentless heat burning low in his belly, Levi was thankful for the chill.

He knocked his forehead to the cool tile wall and stared down at his stubbornly hard cock.

He had escaped to the privacy of the officers bathroom as soon as he left Erwin, locking himself in the stall and willing his erection to subside, but no matter what unappealing images he focused on, Levi couldn't wish the damn thing away. The skin of his neck tingled where Hange's arm had wrapped around him. He could still feel the heat of her on his thigh, smell the sweat on her skin.

Levi growled in frustration, slamming a palm roughly into the wall. This entire situation was foreign to him. Levi prided himself on very little, but he had thought that he, at least, had some substantial control over his own body. He knew with some base instinct how to move it, how to utilise it and make every move to the best of his advantage in any situation. He had trained it well, built powerful muscles and honed sharp reflexes. Levi had never found himself so out of control of it, before.

He grabbed the soap and scrubbed roughly at his hair. Cleaning was always a cathartic exercise, a release of stress. Levi washed the sweat and dirt from his scalp and ran the soap over his face, his shoulders and arms, down his chest and low on his belly. His fingers trailed over the thin trail of hair beneath his naval. Muscle twitched beneath skin. His cock throbbed for attention.

Fucking Hange. Somehow she was a pest even now, when she was nowhere to be seen, out drinking away Mike's measly dividends in some sleazy back alley bar.

Try as he might, Levi couldn't shake the image of her sparring out of his head. No matter what he did to divert his attention, she crept her way back in, glistening skin and strong muscle, mussed hair and heavy breaths. Levi ground his forehead into the tile and clenched his jaw, hand still low on his belly. He wasn’t some fucking pervert, he didn’t make a habit of jerking off over his comrades and he didn’t particularly want to start now—and about Hange of all people.

In fact, Levi didn’t make a habit of jerking off much at all. Now and then, a quick, perfunctory thing, to relieve a little tension, blow off steam. But there was never a great desire behind it, never this insistent, unwavering need. This feeling was new. It was infuriating.

Recognising that he was fighting a losing battle, Levi sighed and closed his eyes. He let his hand wander lower, gripping his length and stroking over it. His belly tightened and his hips pressed helplessly forward into his fist. A low moan bled out of his throat.

It should have been easy to make this quick. To rush to the finish, clean up and pretend it never even happened, but every flash of shiny bronze skin or shifting muscle made him pause, guilt pooling like acid in his stomach. It was just so hard not to think about her. Impossible Not when he could so clearly picture the way those thighs might feel curled up around his hips, hard, firm, holding him close; not when he could so vividly hear her heavy, panted breaths in his ear, and the choked moans bleeding up from low in her throat.

The shower sputtered overhead. Levi drew his palm over the flushed head of his cock, smearing the thick bead of pre-come over his hand, gliding it down over his shaft. He wondered, idle and shame-faced, how Hange’s hand would feel wrapped around him. She has calluses, like him, but her fingers are longer and rougher than Levi’s, and would she grip him as firmly? Would she tug at him roughly, make him hiss and twitch under her touch, or would she treat him with the same reverence she does her titan samples—slow, methodical, analytical. Trail a line up the underside of him, from root to tip, maybe press her nail into his slit just to see the way he squirms.

Levi thumbed at his slit, too, and aborted a loud, choked groan at the sensation. He could imagine the way Hange would toy with him all too well; the glint in her eye as she catches the fluid leaking from him, spreading it around with the tip of her finger and revelling in the way his cock jumps, oversensitive. Draw her slick finger up to her mouth, maybe, push it past her plump lips and lave her tongue over the digit, tasting him. Levi sucked in a shuddering breath, hips bucking.

Maybe she’d taste more. Lay herself down between his legs, palms pushing his thighs apart to make room for her broad shoulders. She’d tease him, brat that she is, trail her lips across his lower belly, barely a whisper of a touch, not nearly enough—nip her sharp teeth into the pale flesh of his inner thigh and suck at the skin until blood pooled beneath it, red welts that pulse and throb when she runs her tongue over them.

Levi nudged the head of his cock against his tight, closed fist, pushed into the squeezing grip as he conjured lude pictures of Hange with her lips pressed against him, suckling at his head languidly, until Levi raked his fingers into her scruffy hair and applied enough pressure to coax her down. He fucked into his own fist with a breathy moan, squeezing his eyes closed. In his head, she takes him right to the back of her throat, laves her tongue over him and swallows him down, and her mouth is all hot and tight and the way she moans vibrates right through him—the thought alone sent a zing of pleasure racing up his spine.

Levi’s knees trembled beneath him. He braced himself on the shower wall and stroked himself faster, huffing heavy, unsteady breaths through his nose with his lip caught between his teeth, biting hard enough to sting.

Hange would stop, if he got too close. Drag her lips over the head of his cock and slip him out of her mouth. She's all wicked, challenging smiles, in his head, eyes blown wide when Levi pushes her back onto the bed and crawls over her. Her blunt nails would claw at his back as he sucks hot, open kisses on her belly, scrapes his teeth over the peak of bone at her hips. She'd tunnel her fingers into his hair and push his face lower, use the strength of her thighs to trap him between her legs. Needy. Unreserved.

And when he's had his fill, left her spent and trembling, he would nudge her legs apart and settle his hips between them. Slide his palms over the smooth skin, dig the blunt tips of his fingers into the tense, shivering muscle. Its so fucking easy to imagine the way Hange would look, splayed out on his bed. Her long body stretched out across the mattress, fingers clutching at the sheets as he teases the head of his cock against her—so fucking wet for him—and pins her hips down with a palm pressed low on her belly. The muscle would quiver under his touch.

There was no room left in him for guilt, now. Only the bright spark of pleasure like flint in his gut, striking and catching fire as he pictured just how hot and tight she would feel wrapped around him. She'd throw her head back against the pillows, exposing the long line of her throat to Levi's hungry lips and tongue and teeth, and he would fold over her and fuck in deep, until their hips are flush and Hange is panting raggedly into his ear. The way she whines his name is sinful, high in her throat, and breathless. Desperate.

She would grip white-knuckled at the sheets as Levi rolls his hips into hers. Plant clumsy, hungry kisses against his jaw, lips wet and trembling—and she'd lick into his mouth, when he's close enough, draw him into an intoxicating kind of kiss. Levi jerked himself quick and uneven, gut clenching, imagining the way Hange's legs would squeeze hard at his hips to keep him close while he fucks her. Her breath would hitch as he grinds down into her, strong arms wrapping around his neck to keep him close as she chokes out his name, all high and airy in her throat when he tucks his hips close and pushes impossibly deeper.

Levi sucked in quick, heavy breaths. His hips stuttered forward, clumsily meeting his own unsteady strokes as his groin tightened—the pleasure coiled tighter and tighter until the tension broke, and Levi came with a muffled grunt, spilling obscenely against the tile wall.

He stood still for a long while, catching his breath. The subsiding pleasure made room for shame; guilt and embarrassment flooded into the empty space, making his face hot and his stomach knot unpleasantly. He felt dirty. Some creep, unable to control his most basic urges. He scrubbed the wall down thoroughly and washed himself again, but stood in the cubicle for a long while even after the water shut off.

Worse still, he felt unsatisfied. The orgasm had relieved some of the building pressure, but it had awakened some terrible hunger, and an awful realisation.

He wanted Hange. He wanted Hange.

Fuck.

[quantumlocked310]

Summon Up Remembrance

@deans-ch-ch-cherrypie​. Cherrypie. My friend. My OG. My Vikings Mom. My shared braincell about everything Hvitty. You encouraged me to put myself out there and talk to people. You’ve given me some of my best ideas. You’re an amazing human who works so hard both in fandom and irl. I’m so happy I took the plunge and wrote you Bjornekram so we could start up this wonderful friendship. Congratulations on your 500 followers! Every single one is well-deserved.

So! In order to celebrate our love, I’ve tortured myself and Hvitty with this story inspired by The Little Match Girl. I’d say “Enjoy!,” but I have a feeling that’s not the right word...

Summary: What if Ivar hadn’t found Hvitserk in that cold forest in time?

Warnings: not a happy time, depression, graphic descriptions of violence, major character death, loss, despair, drug use, oral sex female receiving

Note: Title from Shakespeare’s Sonnet 30

Don’t forget to tap the moodboard to see it in its highest quality!

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He’d used his last coin to buy the matches. Everything else had already been spent on the sweet release the mushrooms and drink provided him. His greatest triumph bled into his deepest failure when Bjorn sentenced him to live in the frozen forest. He knew it would not be long. His half-brother had given him painful and terrible mercy. Already he could no longer feel his toes, and his hair was stiff with ice.

His first match is useless. Scraped against the frozen rocks he huddles behind for some semblance of shelter. He knows he’s going to die, but he’d like to have a last taste of heat before he goes. Even the memory of the bright burning flames of his execution can no longer keep the shivering at bay. The cold and wet sticks he’d gathered couldn’t catch, even with the pine needles he’d found to shove under the bundle.

He is resigned to no fire and no hope. Only four matches to keep him company. The last vestiges of drink and drugs are leaving his body aching and freezing; his hands have barely enough movement to strike the next match. He watches this one burn. Its tiny flame dancing merrily along the wood. In its flickering he sees a better time; his favorite feast.

He’d been younger then, and happier. Not yet burdened with a legacy and revenge. The feast fires had kept him warm inside the packed great hall, and his belly had been full of food and satisfied with drink. It was the night he learned a woman might prefer his mouth over his other parts, and he’d been fascinated. The thrall he’d danced with had taken him aside and shared in his body, and shown him things other women hadn’t yet taught him. Their copulation was in a side room; their sounds of pleasure hidden by the noise in the hall. He remembers the delicious wet heat of her body against his tongue, and the way she whimpered and begged so sweetly for him.

The match goes out and Hvitserk is thrust out of the memory. He grows melancholy as he remembers the thrall was killed by horse hoof to the head when she was cleaning the stables one day. A horrible accident.

He scrambles for the next match. Wanting to leave this new remembrance aside and see something joyful once more. The next match strike flares bright in front of his eyes and he hears the clang of axes on swords. His best battle. He’d felt invincible that day. Bobbing and weaving in between English soldiers. Feeling the thunk of his axe as he buries it in the flesh of his enemies. The sweet and terrible smell of blood and guts and fresh mud. Hearing screams and battle cries around him as the Vikings cut a swath through the English forces. Getting to fight alongside his brothers, and seeing the prideful look in Ubbe’s face when he swoops in at the last moment to save his older brother from danger. Ubbe.

The match goes out, and the cold rushes into Hvitserk’s head. His despair is palpable. Ubbe could not let him die as he’d wished for on that fiery spit. But Ubbe let him walk into this cold and certain death demanded by Bjorn.

His saddened breath rattles his chest, and he feels the exhaustion in his bones; the wet snow seeping further and further into his clothing to numb his skin. The stinging tears falling from his red-rimmed eyes freeze to his cheeks, and he is barely able to lift a hand to strike the match. The tears fall faster as he stares into the flickering orange and gold to find a moment of peace.

They’re all there. Ivar, Ubbe, Sigurd, and Hvitserk. The four of them that beautiful spring day, together in the forest trading blows of the sword and the axe. Even their verbal sparring brings a smile to his disheveled face. He remembers going toe to toe with Sigurd, and being equally matched with Ivar. The rush of adrenaline in the fight is a distant comfort, and he dwells again upon youth; how young they all were. Naive and furious; untouched by the horrors that awaited them.

The match goes out and shivers wrack Hvitserk’s body. He sobs and shakes as he memorializes the family he will never see again.

Desire floods his system. The desire he’s always had to escape, to be someone he is not, to chase the dreams he had but could never fulfill. He weeps for his brothers, his mother, and his father. The most torturous thoughts follow, and he mourns and cries for himself. For the person he will never be. For the women he loved, and the children he never gave them.

This is his last one. The last chance to see his loved ones again. To see his brothers happy and together and alive again. Perhaps he will catch a glimpse of Thora or Margrette in this last memory. He draws strength from this small hope.

His breaths rattle and he lights the match. In the tiny flame it is his mother. How tall she felt when he was a child. She is loving peering down at his small frame as he plays with a wooden horse from Floki. Her smile is radiant as she talks to him. Asking him about the horse and the world inside his mind. Her tone is warm and loving, and it floods his body with a final burst of heat.

The match goes out and Hvitserk’s hand falls. In front of him his mother hasn’t left. Standing there like she was in his memory, with a gentle, proud smile on her regal face. She raises her hand, palm up, open and beckoning him. He rises and falls deeply into his mother’s embrace, clutching at her silken robes that catch the salty tears still falling down his face.

“Come, my son. You have done well. We must go to meet your father and brother.” Aslaug wraps her arms around her beautiful boy and holds him close. She feels his sorrow and his perfect joy as their souls connect and ascend.

Some hours later the stomping of boots and the rattle of wheels can be heard in the forest. Ivar looks to his side, observing the landscape around him, and his eyes are drawn to a cluster of rocks. They’re not at all interesting he thinks, but a strong winter wind whips past his face, and the rocks flutter in the wind. No, not the rocks. The hood of the person hunched behind them.

Ivar calls for a halt and carefully climbs down from his rig. He doesn’t know why, but he knows he has to see who it is for himself. His heart is pounding, and his instincts are screaming, and when he rounds the cluster he sees why.

The body is Hvitserk.

White hot rage floods his body, and Ivar lets out a primal scream. His sorrow and pain released in one powerful sound. Tears flood his eyes and freeze on his cheeks. He gestures to the closest soldiers to help carry his brother. They can barely lift him; Hvitserk has frozen in place, but Ivar is determined to give his brother the Viking funeral he deserves.

Ivar cries and mourns, and swears that he will seek revenge on his brothers in Kattegat who shoved one of their own into the wild to die. They did not even allow his fearsome brother the warrior’s death he deserved. What Ivar misses in his incandescent rage is the sweet smile on Hvitserk’s frozen face. Ivar should be celebrating, because as he was not in life Hvitserk is euphoric in his death; together with those he loved and lost once again. The image of rapturous bliss frozen forever in time on the face of his mortal body.

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If you want to read other stuff I write here’s my masterlist!

Taglist: @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie @punkrocknpearls @solinarimoon @alexhandersen-marcoilsoe-fandom @southernbe @vikingstrash​

Photos are not mine they are from Pinterest.

[fadedseas]

lessons.

nick amaro x fem!reader

summary: you get held hostage during a confrontation with a serial rapist - feelings ensue

tw: guns, violence, mentions of rape, cursing

(gif not mine but good lord, that expression...)

you knew there was an intrinsic reason you hated school. you knew it was a mistake to ever return to a classroom again. you knew this notion was affirmed as a serial rapist pressed his gun deeper into your skull so hard that you could feel the metal ring of the barrel.

there was something about the stuffiness of a classroom, the monotonous drone of an underpaid and overworked public school teacher (or that of an overpaid and underworked tenured professor) and the unrelenting stiffness of academia that made your skin crawl and your muscles twitch. it was probably why you had tried to get out as soon as possible. college as a scholarship kid with the four years passing quickly in a blur of all-nighters, coffee hangovers and then sweet relief during graduation. you had signed up for the police academy before the ink on your degree was even dry. and now you’re here. 

“now let’s just stay calm,” you closed your eyes at nick’s voice, trying to allow the deep tenor of his voice permeate your bones and calm your trembling. you hadn’t allowed yourself to make eye contact with him ever since the perp had grabbed you right when you had walked in. 

“i know you don’t want to do this.” nick moved slow, his muscles deceptively relaxed under his white button down as he moved slowly towards you and the professor. 

it was supposed to be a cut and dry case. a student from hudson university had walked into a squad room on a wednesday morning reporting a rape, her arms around her middle as if she were holding herself together. you and nick had pounded the pavement, interviewing classmates, boyfriends, administration officials that seemed less than pleased to have the nypd scaring off prospective students and donors. and one name kept appearing time and time again. professor daniel hershaw. english literature. tenured for the past fifteen years. 

“you really think it might be him? he’s the image of a family man. mentor. i mean the guy makes model planes for godssake - he’s a walking cliche.” you mused 

“one thing you learn on this job - most of the time, we’re not pulling rapists off the street. they hunt where they’re trusted.” nick said as he handed you a coffee from the coffee cart with his lips curved into a sad smile. your heart jumped as your fingers brushed. and oh. yes. that was another thing that was happening.

liv had assigned you and nick as partners given that you were the newest recruit and he was one of the senior members of the team. it was late nights, terrible coffee, greasy chinese food and floods of case notes that turned stagnant work chatter into deeper, more revealing conversations. you learned about his tendency to dance to the cuban music station on the radio (”we can work on your moves rookie”), his secret love for musicals, his divorce that had ended a year ago with an aggressive custody battle and long negotiations for weekends and holidays with his daughter, zara. you had learned more about his family, about zara’s obsession with anything disney, about his mother and her fretting, about his father and his tendency to communicate with his fists that made nick’s rage swell whenever your team handled a case involving women with black eyes and voices weak from sobs. 

and he learned of you. of your love for terrible reality tv shows and home cooking blogs that made you way too optimistic of your own cooking skills (”damn rookie, you burned water? i’ll have to teach you how to cook some ropa vieja someday - we’ll work up to it”); of your nightmares about each victim you’ve seen from your years in homicide and how their last expressions have been etched into your memory; of your parents and their incessant pushing for college and their disappointment when you joined the force. 

and you learned about the strong curve of his arms as he held you in his arms the first time you had shot and killed a perp who was raising a gun at you. the smell of his cologne and old spice filling your lungs as you tried to steady your breath. the flutter of his lips against your ear as he whispered that it was going to be ok. you learned about the roughness of his voice when he called you, late at night after drinking away his sorrows of his previous marriage at the bar and you learned about how he nursed his his hangovers the subsequent day when you curled up with him on his couch, not quite touching, after you had come over the night before to make sure he had gotten home safe and didn’t choke on his own vomit. you learned about the unfamiliar pressure of your chest as you realized that somehow, somewhere down the line of cold morning rides around the city, warm coffee, inside jokes, and progressively lingering stares across the squad room - you were in love. 

and now you were learning about his hostage negotiation skills.

it was a mistake to have spoken to the professor’s wife before you arrived at the classroom. she seemed entirely too calm about the matter, methodically pouring you and nick tea as she answered your question in short, snipped sentences. you made sure to note the gun cabinet as you left through the front door. you didn’t note the cell phone in her hand as she closed the door behind you. 

“stay back or i swear i’ll shoot her.” professor hershaw’s hand trembled as he kept pressing the metal into your head. 

“ok! ok! i’m staying back.” nick stopped his progress towards you. you could see the slight shake of his legs from the tension. 

“put your weapon down!” the professor barks behind you. 

 nick lifts his hands and your breath caught in your throat as he slowly kneels places his gun on the floor. he wasn’t wearing a bulletproof vest. you hadn’t expected a confrontation like this. he was completely open and exposed to a man with a gun.

since you had worked closely with the dead prior to this position, you had often thought about how you would die. you knew it was possible you could die in the line of duty. hundreds did every day. but you didn’t think it would be here. in front of nick. in front of the man you’ve been in love with for the past year. you didn’t think it would be before he taught you how to dance or cook or whether he would ever fix the radiator in his car. before you ever felt his lips against your and whether that would feel as slow and passionate as you had often fantasized it would. before you even had the chance to tell him how you felt. so many plot lines unfulfilled. so many questions left unanswered. but at the moment, all you could think about was how you wanted to look into his eyes once more before you died.

“you’re a good man. you got kids - good ones. i’ve met them -” nick’s tone was placating, slow.

“don’t talk about my children!” the professor jerked his gun, knocking your head a bit to the side, “i know they’re good. i raised them. better than the whores that walk through these halls. in these classrooms.”

“yea. yea i understand professor. it’s unfair - all of them just get to walk around like they own the place. like there’s no consequences for them -”

“exactly,” you could feel his spittle on the back of your head, “i showed them the lesson they deserved.” 

nick’s eyes moved from the perp to meet yours. and a shudder of warmth flowed through you as you saw fear, anger, determination - and something else that as more than you could process at the moment. but you did catch his slight nod. “that’s right. you punished them. rightfully so. because - it’s like you wrote about right? ‘Vengeance comes from the individual and punishment from God.’“

"you - you read victor hugo?” the professor stuttered, his arm slacked slightly in shock and there it was. you immediately ripped yourself from his arms as he staggered back in surprise. you dived for the floor as you heard the professor’s shout echo on the walls of the lecture hall and a gunshot. and then silence. 

you scrambled up, drawing your weapon quickly, your heart in your chest, terrified at what you might see. 

“call a bus!” you felt your entire body relax as you saw nick towering over the professor with his gun drawn and a bullet wound in the professor’s shoulder. 

later, much later, after you had been subject to medical exams by ems (albeit quite reluctantly) with nick hovering behind the paramedic’s shoulder like an unfriendly poltergeist that radiated anxiety, after liv had ordered you to take a few days, after you had returned to the squad room to fill out some paperwork in nick’s car as the both of you sat in heavy silence with too many things left unsaid between you two. you finally had a moment alone with your partner. 

most of the team had left with liv retiring to her office to have a quick call with the babysitter and say goodnight to noah. fin had clapped you on the shoulder and amanda had stopped by with coffee and an offer to let her know if you needed anything before she left to take care of the kids. the night shift had transferred in and you were finishing up the last words of the report when you sensed a presence and looked up. nick was standing by your desk, his lips in a firm line and brow furrowed. 

“can we talk?” he gestured towards the bunks. your heart flipped as you nodded, scribbling your signature onto the paperwork and shutting the file.

nick closed the door behind you. and you waited until the silence between you became unbearable.

“thank you for everything today nick. i mean - you saved my life. i could have died today and -”

“i know.” his voice seemed unnaturally loud in the quiet room. nick paced the floor, his hands gripping at his thick, dark hair. “i know you could’ve died. and i can’t stop seeing it. there’s just - i can’t describe how i felt watching him touch you. seeing how afraid you were. and how f**king helpless i was when all i wanted to do was just take your place - and when i finally got him away from you - i just wanted to -” he collapsed on a bunk and covered his eyes with his palms. 

you moved towards him, placing your hands on his shoulders, feeling the crisp fabric of his shirt crinkle under the heat of your hands. 

“you just wanted to what?”

nick lifted his head to meet your gaze, “you know you’re my partner. and there’s nothing i wouldn’t do to protect you. you’ve been there through everything this past year and i kept telling myself that i didn’t deserve everything you’ve been doing for me - didn’t deserve you.”  

you inhaled sharply, “nick - “

“i love you. there, i said it. and that was all i could think about today. losing someone else in my life that i love.” he sighed, rubbing his hand across his face, “i’ve been in love with you since that christmas party when you walked in with discount boy george - “

“kevin,” you automatically corrected the name of your old friend from college that you had brought as a date. 

“and you were just so beautiful. and i know that i don’t deserve you. but i just couldn’t stop wanting you. hoping for you. and it’s so selfish -”

he never got to finish his sentence. because by that point you had fully processed his words. you framed his face in your hands, bent down and pressed your lips against his. 

and suddenly all you could think, feel or taste was nick and his mouth moving against yours - warm, firm, steady - just like him. you were pushed back as nick got up from the bunk, his hands gripping your waist. you separated for a moment, drawing back to look into his eyes. beautiful brown. just like you never thought you would ever see again. 

and then nick pushed his body against yours, pressing you against the wall of the bunk room, his lips sweeping the corners of your mouth before exploring down your neck. 

“f**k - i thought i was going to lose you.” he growled, puncturing each word with a kiss and a nip at your neck. you gasped, your fingers diving deep into his hair. 

“never - you’ll never lose me nick. i never want to be apart from you.” 

nick dragged his face up to your, pulling you into a ferocious kiss, dominating you as his tongue swept through your mouth. his hands, large and seemingly burning, explored your back, and you shivered his his fingers played with the hem of your shirt. 

“everything about you,” his lips were everywhere, your hair, forehead, cheeks, “i cannot lose - do you understand me mi alma.” he closed his eyes, muttering in spanish as he held you close.  

you nodded, feeling intoxicated in his presence, his smell, the feeling of his body against yours. your hands gripped his shirt pulling him to you, anchoring yourself in the storm of his affection, “i got you. i love you too nick. i’m ok. i’m going to be ok.” you repeated the last sentence as nick’s body slowly went lax. 

he pressed his forehead to yours, and your breath caught at the vulnerability in his expression. “i know you’re going to be ok. it’ll just take a while before i get the image of you held at gunpoint out of my head every second of the day.” 

you smiled, pressing your hand against his cheek, “then i’ll be right beside you. reminding you that i’m right here.” his lips twitched as he grasped one of your hands from his chest, sweeping kisses across his knuckles.

“i know quierida.” 

you both stood in silence for a moment, basking in the presence of each other and the feelings you had just released. your heart felt lighter than it had in a very long time, and the butterflies in your stomach settled as nick’s body heat calmed you. 

“i’m tired, and i want to go home. come with me?” your request was bold but you trusted nick more than anyone to keep you safe. and you weren’t looking forward to the nightmares you knew would be resurfacing.

“i wouldn’t be anywhere else.” nick pressed kisses across your hairline. 

you both exited the bunks, and tried to suppress the red that bloomed across your faces. liv was exiting her office with her coat on and her bag slung on her shoulder. she raised an eyebrow as you both approached her.

“well i expect not you see you here for a few days,” she reiterated to you, “good night guys - try not to stay too late.” she turned and then paused, “and i expect the paperwork about your relationship on my desk by the time you get back from leave.” without another word, olivia exited to the elevators.

“oh god.” you placed your head in your hands, unable to stop the burning in your face and neck. nick strolled over to your desk, chuckling. 

“well she’s captain for a reason. you really can’t get anything past liv.” 

you rolled your eyes, “great, more paperwork to do then.” 

nick smiled as he swooped down for another quick kiss when no one was watching, “it’s all for a good cause. c’mon, let’s grab your bag and go. it’s late.” 

you laughed and nodded. grabbing your coat off the back of your chair and putting it on. as you and nick walked out of the station, hand-in-hand, a thought occurred to you - 

“when did you read victor hugo?”

[girldirectionsource]

hey!! could you recommend any long wlw fics?? preferably more than 70k words. thanks:)

Hi! Unfortunately, there aren’t that many longer girl direction fics but I do have two amazing ones to rec you that are both over 100k:

You Make Lovin’ Fun by @homosociallyyours

Harry is a 28 year old travel writer at a gay magazine who gets the assignment to go a lesbian cruise. She figures it's a nice chance to have some fun in the sun, but she's not expecting much else-- even if her partner and best friend are both encouraging her to hook up with someone while she's there.

When she locks eyes with a gorgeous silver fox from across the room, she starts to think she could've been wrong. There are lots of things standing in the way of anything real happening with her and Louis, but that doesn't stop them from falling for one another. True love isn't always easy, but they do make lovin' fun.

Crazy and Infectious by @star55

“Y’know,” Louis starts. “While we’ve got our phones out, you should give me your number. In case they ask who referred them.” “Oh, they don’t do that,” Harry replies as she locks her phone. “They’re not the kind of company who keeps tabs on who refers who.” Louis raises her eyebrows and smiles at this beautiful girl. “Harry,” she says slowly. “I’m hitting on you.”

A Shades of Pink story in which we flash back to find out just how Louis and Harry actually got together.

(If you haven’t read it yet, the entire Shades of Pink (Crazy in Love) series is over 400k at this point and I highly recommend checking it out!)

more under the cut!

And then here are some recs between 50k and 70k:

I love your demons (like devils can) by ariadne_odair

"I am right here," she says loudly, and she can almost hear the crack when Louis' head whips around to stare at her.

"Why?" Louis asks, and Harry feels her insides shrivel up and die.

Harry didn’t plan to join the football team. She didn’t plan to sleep with the captain of the football team. She definitely didn’t plan to sleep with the closeted captain of the football team, who promptly acted as if nothing happened and left Harry a pathetic, pining mess.

The Changer and the Changed by @homosociallyyours

It’s the spring of 1977 and Harry Styles has just moved to New York City after graduating college. She knows she’s a lesbian. She just needs to figure out how to meet other lesbians.

Louis Tomlinson works at a popular women’s bookstore in the Lower East Side, Womon’s Direction, where she spends her days reading feminist literature, writing poetry, exchanging friendly barbs with her boss Niall, and dreaming of finding someone to love.

When Harry and Louis meet, their connection is instantaneous. Slowly but surely, Louis welcomes Harry into her community of women. Stonewall veteran and old school butch Niall; Liam, a land dyke who’s moved to the city for love; and Zayn, a lesbian musician who’s been ostracized by a vocal part of women’s community for being trans, welcome Harry with open arms, ready to help her find her place in New York City’s bustling lesbian scene.

It’s a time of growth for everyone involved.

If I Was Stronger by @haloeverlasting

Harry’s fingers find her lips, in a silent moment of wonder and reverie, and her knees wobble as she’s assaulted with the image of Louis, right here in her bedroom, with her light blue eyes, and her gentle hands, and Harry feels an overwhelming rush and longing to reach out and touch. She imagines Louis stepping towards her slowly, treading lightly with her fingers on her cheek, where Harry’s dimple may appear, and whether Harry would like it if Louis’ thin lips found hers.

With her eyes closed, she imagines Louis standing very close, and she finds the wait to be agonizing, but when she goes to close the distance, there’s no one besides herself in her bedroom.

Harry lets out a breath she hadn’t even realized she’d been holding. She feels tingly, and hot, and absolutely terrified, but the next time she looks in the mirror, she sees someone she knows intimately. She sees that girl with bright green eyes, and unruly hair, and parted lips, and she loses her breath a moment, because while she knows that girl inside and out, she hasn’t been honest with herself until… well, now.

“I might be gay.”

A Girl Direction AU where Louis holds universes inside her, and Harry just wants to hold her.

That Smile and That Midnight Laugh by @uhoh-but-yeah-alright

Harry’s never noticed how lovely Louis really is. Maybe it’s just that she’s usually so guarded – a little tense, a little irritated, a little put out. At least when she’s at school, and also usually when she’s around Nick, which are the only times Harry has really seen her. Until tonight. Tonight Harry’s seen her with her guard completely down. Too busy laughing and enjoying herself to remember to be prickly, maybe. She seems different.

It feels different.

A Ferris Bueller's Day Off AU that picks up right where the movie leaves off, and imagines what might happen if Ferris' girlfriend and sister become friends. And maybe something more, too.

Sea Asunder by @cupcakentea 

It’s only then, as Anne elegantly sits at the other end of the table, that Louis realises there’s a third set of cutlery and plate laid out on the side between them. She feels something twist in her belly, right when the sound of small heels coming closer echoes from the drawing room. She looks at Anne’s side, where the door she came from remains ajar. But she realises, as the steps slow down, that the one on hers is wide open. She feels the hair on her neck standing up slightly with what feels like a shift in the very atmosphere of the room. A gravitational pull that passes right by her side with no words, no sound, just a disturbance of the air. There she is.

A Portrait of a Lady on Fire AU

i must admit i thought i’d like to make you mine by @disgruntledkittenface

Louis fell apart when her ex broke up with her and moved across the country. Just as she’s starting to move on, Zayn comes back to town for their mutual friends’ wedding – with a new girlfriend as her plus one.

Blindsided and scrambling to save face, Louis lets herself get talked into a fake relationship with her new friend Harry. Their arrangement makes Louis feel pathetic and embarrassed, but it’s only going to last a few weeks. She just has to get through the wedding – what could happen?

And here some fics I found while putting this together that I haven’t read yet but which look good!

into the great wide open by @ficshl

It only took a week or so for Harry to truly get into the routine of life on the road. They woke before dawn each morning, ate a small meal, packed up the tent and rounded up the livestock, all before setting out. On a good day, they could make it twenty miles. There hadn’t been many bad ones, but Louis confessed that on a previous trip there had been a solid week where they hadn’t made it more than five miles a day. Soon, Louis promised, animals would start going lame, and wheels would start breaking, and people would start going hungry. The beginning was the easiest, and the end was doable only because the hope of finishing the trek fueled everyone. It was the middle bit, with the tedious marching hundreds of miles from any settlement, that people succumbed to the journey.

Safe and warm in your coat of arms by frenchkiss

If she's being completely honest with herself, Louis didn't want a girlfriend. She had fully intended to head off to university, fuck around a bit, and be the lesbian that her hometown hadn't let her be.

Too bad fate wanted to throw a spanner in the works. A tall, curly haired cherub of a spanner who tends to answer to the name Harry, to be exact.

Me, Her, And The Moon by star55

All Louis wants to do is survive secondary school and her A Levels, be the best sister that she can possibly be to her five sisters, and train as hard as possible to be her family’s future alpha. She doesn’t expect to meet her mate on the first day of school and have her entire world changed.

[one-boring-person]

Like Football.

John Rambo (Rambo III) x reader

Warnings: heavy violence, injury, gun use, death, blood, violence involving animals (horses), bad language, SPOILERS

Context: John and the reader take part in the horse game in the small village, before all hell breaks loose.

A/N: I love this character far too much to not write anything, and this scene in the movie is definitely one of my favourites (before all the bombing ofc) so enjoy😅 there will most definitely be more Rambo stuff in the future!

Masterlist

"I'll play." Mousa looks at John in surprise as the veteran reaches out to take the reins of a nearby horse, pulling the animal gently towards him. Beside him, I have to fight to hide my smirk, knowing John has never been one to decline a challenge like this.

"What're the rules?" He asks our guide, looking back at him as he eyes up the field of play, watching as the other men on horses race back and forth, getting ready for another round.

"You have to get the sheep and take it round. Then drop it in the circle, on the ground." Mousa explains, gesturing to the white ring chalked into the ground a little way away. 

"Why?" I butt in, already looking out for a mount of my own.

"Because there is a circle on the ground." The guide replies, appearing a little confused.

"Hm. Just like football." John responds, before swiftly climbing into the saddle and wheeling around to join in with the men.

Lifting a brow at his eagerness, I quickly locate an available horse, going over to the person holding the reins.

"Can I borrow him?" I ask politely, gesturing to the horse.

"Her. And No, women cannot play." The man frowns, looking me up and down.

"Aw, come on. Won't it be fun to watch me fall?" I roll my eyes, playing right into his old-fashioned views.

He hesitates, but eventually hands me the reins, watching sceptically as the mare follows me. Smiling sweetly at him, I take the horse a little way away, before swinging myself up into the saddle, feeling a rising sense of excitement at the familiar feeling of riding. Taking up the reins, I gently nudge the horse's sides and trot quickly over to the other riders, pulling up in the bustling crowd of rebels, just catching sight of John a little way ahead of me. Grinning to myself, I let the mare shift on the spot, her hooves pawing at the ground in anticipation, my grip on the reins loose so as not to restrict her too much, my eyes fixed on the lone rider at the opposite end of the playing field. I sit forwards slightly, legs ready to urge the horse on as the sheep's body is brandished to us, before being dropped to the floor.

Instantly, the riders around me kick their horses into action, each and every one springing forwards with a whinny, my own mare lurching into a fast canter. Exhilaration floods me as the animal moves with the crowd, my body moving in time with her as she starts pushing up against other horses, my legs knocking against the flanks of others, elbows jabbing at me. Determined, I lean forwards in the saddle, leaning over her neck as we overtake a good few of the other men, the reins cutting into my palms as I pull her to the side to ride in time with the veering group, the sheep now held aloft by some other man. Underneath me, the mare snorts, hooves pounding the sandy ground harshly as she rides up alongside the men who are currently fighting over the prize. 

A familiar grunt of exertion draws my attention momentarily to the side, where I notice John has pulled his horse up beside mine, the veteran's gaze fixed on the dangling body of the black sheep. Smirking, I dig my heels into the flanks of the mare, urging her on with a sharp sound, to which she instantly renews her speed, easily drawing up beside the current winners. The crowd is thicker here, horses crashing into me frequently, arms and legs hitting me almost painfully as the men fight over the sheep, shouting at each other in their own language, leaving me to call out to no one in particular. 

By now, however, the sheep is in reaching distance for me. Taking my feet out of the stirrups, I lean out, batting a few others out of the way as I take hold of the limp body, yanking harshly on it, pulling it from its current owner. Grinning triumphantly, I swing it out of reach, goading the mare on as she tears away from the group, a few of the faster horses running just ahead of me, some of the riders behind falling as their own mounts trip, squealing as they drop to the dust. Instantly, however, I feel riders pressing up alongside me, their hands grabbing at me as they try to wrestle the sheep from my grip, the mare suddenly rearing as a particular man yanks on her bridle.

Yelping, I can only drop the sheep and cling onto the neck of the panicking horse as she kicks out, trying to throw me off. Jeers and shouts of triumph surround me as another guy picks up the sheep, horses steaming past us as they continue the chase. After a moment, the mare drops back down, bucking gently as she calms down, only for me to make use of her excitement by digging my heels into her flank. Swiftly, she leaps forwards, racing to catch up with the other riders, where I can see John and another guy fighting for the sheep, the latter yanking on it roughly.

We are quick to catch up again, the mare darting in alongside the leaders again, jerking aside when one of the riders suddenly falls to the floor, collapsing in the dust. Too late, I realise it's John, the dark-haired veteran rolling into a ball to avoid being hit, only to swiftly scramble back upright again grabbing the fallen sheep and holding it to his chest. Other riders swarm him, grabbing and pulling at him, managing to retrieve the sheep as John gives up and finds his horse again, throwing himself into the saddle once more. Grinning at his competitive streak, I urge the mare up beside him, pushing against his horse as he finally realises I'm playing, too, his dark eyes widening slightly at the sight of me, a rare smile gracing his features momentarily. It's at that point that he sees the sheep on the floor again, having been dropped by someone else.

Leaning out of the saddle, he scoops it up, holding it to his chest protectively, out of the reach of the other men. Chuckling, I reach over and take hold of the prize, pulling it between us as our shoulders press together from the proximity, neither of us willing to give up. Riding side-by-side, the two of us make our way further down the field, other riders catching up but unable to grab the sheep, leaving us mostly to fight it out amongst ourselves. Smirking, I lean across properly, having taken my feet from the stirrups again, hooking my shoulder under his arm and pushing upwards, throwing him off balance as he fights to remain in control of his horse. With our skin pressed flushed together, I can feel a light blush dusting my cheeks, but I choose to focus instead on the knowledge I've almost won the game. 

An explosion somewhere to the north of the valley interrupts us, drawing our attention away from the game. Brilliant orange flames engulf a large area of the land a little way away, smoke roiling up from the fire, concealing the attacker from us momentarily. 

As soon as it clears slightly, the silhouettes of two Russian gunships loom into view, headed straight for the tiny village. Around us, people start to scream, men and women running here and there as they start to escape, riders on horses wheeling around to get back to safety. The sheep is forgotten, John and I simply doing as everyone else is, urging our horses on away from the approaching danger. 

Explosions erupt all around us, gunfire pelting the ground as the pilots let loose, gunning down anything that moves. Cries of pain and panic fill the air, almost lost to the sound of collapsing structures and exploding missiles, the stench of burning flesh, spilt blood and charred wood quickly creating a heady miasma in the dry air. Beneath me, the mare squeals in terror, movements uncoordinated now as she goes to bolt, racing away from the helicopters as they descend on us, John only just managing to keep up on his own horse.

A sudden explosion beside me catches the horse off-guard and she goes down, screaming in pain, throwing me off onto the solid ground. My shoulder collides harshly with the rock, drawing a grunt from me as I am forced to roll away from the blazing flames, watching in dismay as the horse staggers to its feet and limps off, clearly injured beyond repair, leaving me alone on the floor. 

Gritting my teeth, I force myself to my feet, using the smoke as cover as I duck towards a nearby structure, hiding down inside it as I wait for some clarity. My arm smarts from where it's been hit, but I ignore it, keeping my eyes trained on the hovering gunships, hatred and anger flooding me as I watch them shoot down hordes and hordes of young children and women, men and other fighters crumpling with screams of pain as the bullets tear through them. I can no longer see John, my heart skipping a beat at the thought.

Steeling myself, I look around for a solution, catching sight of a turret nearby, where a rebel has already been shot to his death, the artillery left unharmed, surprisingly. Glancing around, I deem it safe enough to move, keeping low as I sprint over to the weapon, hoping that the pilots haven't seen me yet, knowing that I can try and take one down if I can get to the turret. The going is slow, the ground having been torn up by the many bombs and gunfire, meaning I trip and stumble over almost every unseen disfigurement in the ground, my legs pumping hard to keep going. Adrenaline races through my veins, each breath coming hard and fast as I finally reach my destination, swinging myself up into position. 

As I do so, I feel someone else hop up behind me, my instincts telling me to be ready as I spin on my heels, hand going to grab my knife from my belt as I expect to meet an enemy. Instead, my eyes make contact with John's, the veteran grabbing my wrist gently as he reaches past me to take hold of the artillery gun, clearly having had the same idea as me. Stepping back slightly, I let him take the turret, noticing an automatic rifle on the floor from where the rebel dropped it. I take it up and check the magazine, glad to find it still mostly full. Cocking it, I take aim and fire at the rapidly approaching gunship, joining John as he supplies a steady volley of bullets at the looming aircraft.

Thankfully, it isn't long before the helicopter goes up in flames, the ruined skeleton falling in a ball of flames to the ground, leaving nothing but debris behind. Checking my gun, I throw it aside a I realise it has no ammo left, joining John in scoping out the next threat. 

Relief floods me as I notice that it is retreating back into the mountains, leaving piles of ruin behind, bodies littering the landscape as flames slowly go out, allowing us to see the true extent of the attack.

"Jesus Christ." I mutter, looking out over the remains.

"Ain't much of him 'round here." John replies grimly, eyeing me up and down critically, "You hurt?"

"Me? No. You?" 

"Nah." 

We hold eye contact for a few moments longer, before he suddenly reaches out and pulls me into his side, initiating an awkward half-hug. Surprised but pleasantly so, I wrap my arm around his waist, feeling his muscles tense under the thin fabric of his shirt as he squeezes my body gently. I smile up at him, glad when he returns the gesture, enjoying this softer side of him, even though I reckon I'll never see it again.

"Come on, Trautman needs us." I finally mumble, not wanting to let go but understanding the need to do so.

"Yeah, guess so."

[kathonyxbee]

Preventing Another Duel

Happy Belated Kate and Anthony Week! 🐝🌷

This is late, I know, but it took me a while to figure out this fit which I planned for Day 5. Sorry about that. So, this is basically the fic for Day 5 of Kathony Week 🐝🌷

Day 5: "scared of my wife"

Set during TSPWL, knowing about the duel with Simon, Kate hides Anthony's pistols to keep him from engaging in another duel that might get him killed.

Or, Kate is a very protective wife even if it means taking extreme measures and Anthony is a little scared of her.

“Mama?” Edmund asked in a small voice as Kate closed the book she’d just read the boys, and Kate looked up to find both her boys looking up at her with curious expressions on both their faces. Edmund was a mirror image of her husband, the same brown eyes, the same nose, the same shape of his mouth, the same mop of brown hair. Miles was more of a mixture of them both, with Anthony’s bone structure and nose, but her mouth and eyes, darker than Edmund’s, and her hair, a mop of black, unruly curls.

“Yes, darling?”

Her boys exchanged a look, nudging each other until Miles turned to her.

“Was Auntie El kidnapped by pirates?” Miles asked in a small voice. Kate gasped, her eyebrows shooting up in surprise.

“Miles, why would you say such a thing?” she asked, her brows furrowing in confusion.

“Isn’t that why Grandmama Violet went to the bank to make sure her funds were in order?” Edmund piped up, his brown eyes blinking at her with curiosity.

“Edmund! Where did you hear that?” she stared at her eldest in shock, and concern. They’d all been on edge for the past few days, ever since Eloise had disappeared. Anthony was currently out with Colin and Gregory, doing Lord knows what, while most of the women of the family, minus Francesca and Sophie, were off at Number 5. Even Edwina, her sister, had been alerted, Kate sending her a frazzled note as soon as she could, and Mary, too, both of them writing back to express their concern.

Kate had been at Number 5, too, most of the afternoon, doing her best to comfort Violet, who was beside herself, and keep an eye on Hyacinth and the household, but had left just before dinner since she needed to put Charlotte to bed and Edmund and Miles needed to be bathed, too, and put to bed. Daphne, too, had left not long after, her four children in tow.

Edmund looked down, a crease, much like his father’s, forming between his eyebrows and Miles pinched his lips together.

“Well-” her eldest started, but Miles cut him off.

“You see, Mama, Auntie Hyacinth was telling us this story,” he started to explain, looking up to meet her eyes, “about pirates and this cousin of the Bridgertons who was kidnapped by pirates and then married one of them and we just thought that Auntie El-” he rambled, trying to explain.

Kate snorted, cutting him off, and both her sons looked at her in surprise as she succumbed to laughter, unable to stop herself.

“Mama? Are you alright?” Edmund murmured, looking at her in concern. “You are acting so strange…”

Finally, Kate managed to stop laughing, and she let out a heavy sigh before crouching in front of her sons, and reached for their hands, clasping them in hers.

“My darlings,” she said softly, giving them a wobbly smile, “your Aunt Hyacinth lives for adventure, but don’t listen to her and let her fill your head with nonsense. Your Aunt Eloise was not kidnapped by pirates,” she told them as firmly as she could. She didn’t like being too firm with the boys, but she was tired and worried for Eloise, and she wasn’t going to entertain this ridiculous theory.

Both boys, sensing that their mother was in a no-nonsense mood, nodded solemnly, letting out a “yes, Mama,” in unison.

And then, Miles added, “but, mama, do you think Auntie El might have been kidnapped, still?”

“Not by a pirate,” Edmund supplied.

Kate sighed, “I don’t think so,” she told them. “Edmund, Miles, your Auntie El is strong, and smart, and she would never let herself kidnapped-”

“Do you think Papa will have to duel anyone?” Miles interrupted her to chime in.

“Miles!” Kate gasped. “Why would you-”

“Because he and Uncle Simon dueled before Uncle Simon married Auntie Daff,” Edmund chimed in.

Kate sighed, huffing, “Edmund, Miles, your father is not going to duel anyone,” told them, once again trying to sound as authoritative as she could. “Not if I have anything to say about it,” she added, under her breath.

Miles’ eyes filled with tears, “are you certain, Mama?” he asked, his voice small, and Kate heart ached as she cupped his small face.

“Of course, darling,” she said softly, wiping away the few tears that had spilled onto his cheeks, still chubby with baby fat. “Your Papa is not going to do anything of the sort, I promise. Not if it means taking him away from us. If there is a conflict with your Aunt Eloise, your father will resolve it in a most civilized manner indeed. All right, boys?”

“Yes, Mama,” they mumbled in unison.

“Now, off to bed with you two,” she told them, nudging them to their beds. Although Bridgerton House had enough bedrooms for all of them, Edmund and Miles were still sharing a room, thought Kate wasn’t sure if it was for Miles’ or Edmund’s benefit. She didn’t mind. When the boys weren’t up mischief, they were the best of friends and both Kate and Anthony were so happy, since both of them had siblings and loved their siblings very much. So much so that Anthony was ready to duel any man who would ever attempt to bring harm or ruin to any of his sisters. Kate did not want to think of what Anthony might do when Charlotte would grow up and have her season. He’d probably convert to Catholicism so he could lock her in a convent. She shook herself and stood up, bending to kiss each boy, bidding them goodnight.

“Goodnight, my darlings,” she whispered, exiting the room.

“Goodnight, Mama,” they both whispered as she shut the door, turning off the light.

Once the door was firmly shot behind her, Kate listened, making sure her husband hadn’t returned before making her way to Anthony’s study. She passed Mrs. Wilson, the housekeeper she’d inherited from her mother-in-law upon their move to Bridgerton House.

“Is everything all right, my lady?” Mrs. Wilson asked, her face filled with concern. “Any word on Miss Eloise?” And, Kate was reminded that Mrs. Wilson had worked for the Bridgertons for years, that she’d known Eloise since she was born, that she was just as worried as anyone.

Kate shook her head, “no, Mrs. Wilson, sadly I don’t know anything. I was just putting the boys to bed. Charlotte is already sleeping,” she told her with a tense smile. “I, uh, I need something from Lord Bridgerton’s study. You may retire for the night, I should like to wait for my husband,” she added softly.

“Of course, my lady. Goodnight,” Mrs. Wilson murmured before going off, leaving Kate alone once more. Taking advantage of the opportunity, Kate made her way to Anthony’s study, shutting the door behind her before getting to work, looking for her husband’s pistols. She’d be damned if she let another duel happen, no matter what.

🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷

Barely an hour later, after Kate had retrieved and hidden the pistols, sending a letter to her sister-in-law, Sophie, warning her to hide Benedict’s, too, she retired to the drawing room and requested a pot of tea, hoping to calm her nerves. Newton joined her, settling at her feet. She’d just filled her cup with the tea, when the door burst open, causing Newton to lift his head in alarm, and she looked up to find Anthony standing there, a harried-looking Humboldt beside him, Colin and Gregory not far behind.

“Anthony!” she exclaimed, standing up, setting her cup aside. “What-”

“We know where Eloise is!” he announced, striding into the room, passing poor Humboldt, his brothers scrambling to join. Newton became alert, too, rushing over to Anthony and the other two, yapping at their feet. Anthony merely bent down to scratch him behind his ear with a quiet, “good evening, Newton,” which made Kate grin.

“Oh!” she let out a sigh of relief. “Where is she? Is she all right?” she asked as she met Anthony for a hug in the middle of the room, his grip tightening on her, holding her close while Colin and Gregory both lingered behind, Colin no doubt ordering food and more tea. After a few more seconds, he finally released her, but not before pressing a chaste kiss to her lips, and she could feel the tension melt from his body, a tension that hadn’t left him in the past few days.

“She’s all right,” he told her, pulling her to the sofa, Colin and Gregory both plopping down on another one. Newton joined them, the two brothers immediately patting him and rubbing his belly. “Or, at least I hope so,” he added, a little more subdued, and she could hear the worry in his voice, see it in the crease between his eyebrows, a crease that had been permanent for the past few days, and all she’d wanted was to brush it away, but she knew that until he saw Eloise alive and well with his own eyes, it would not disappear.

“Well, what happened?” she asked, glancing at the other two Bridgerton brothers.

“She’s run off!” Gregory replied, his lips twitching with amusement, and Colin snorted. “She’s run off to marry a man,” he added for clarification. Kate’s eyebrows shot up in surprise and she gasped.

“Run off? To get married? Eloise?” she asked, still trying to process the thought.

“Oh, yes,” Colin murmured.

“To a Sir Phillip Crane,” Anthony grunted, unamused. “We found a letter and a pressed flower behind her desk,” he added.

“Actually, Pen found it,” Colin chimed in, smiling proudly, and Kate rolled her eyes. Newlyweds.

“That was a very sensible idea, having Pen look, wasn’t it?” she quipped, a small smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. “I wonder who thought of it…”

Anthony sighed, “yes, you were right to suggest it, dear wife,” he told her, bringing her hand to his lips and pressing a tender kiss to her knuckles. “Quite sensible of you,” he added.

“Indeed. I am the sensible sister, after all,” she murmured acerbically. “And, where is this Sir Phillip Crane located?” she wondered, taking another sip of her tea.

“In Gloucestershire,” Anthony answered her question. “Not very far from Wiltshire, where Benedict and Sophie live,” he added.

“We’ll be heading there,” Colin informed her. “We must deal with this Sir Phillip individual as soon as possible,” he said, cracking his knuckles.

“I assume Benedict will join you?” she asked, though she already knew the answer. Benedict was Eloise’s favorite brother, after all, the two of them sharing a very close bond.

“Indeed,” Anthony nodded.

“I am, too,” Gregory chimed in. “I should like to give that Sir Phillip a piece of my mind,” he added, crossing his arms, trying to appear as scary as his older brothers, but he failed. Still, Kate found it sweet that Gregory was ready to beat up a man he didn’t know for his siter.

“Absolutely not!” Anthony snapped.

“I agree with Anthony, Greg. I don’t think it’s a good idea,” Colin added, trying to sound a little more gentle.

“And, I think it’s a splendid idea for Gregory to go,” Kate chimed in, straightening up a little. “He is your brother, too, and if he wants to go, he should. He is three-and-twenty, after all. He’s an adult,” she said, glancing over at her husband who had an inscrutable expression on his face. She reached for him, her fingers gripping his wrist lightly, bringing his attention to her, and their gazes met. “Anthony,” she said gently, “I know you think of Gregory as a child, but he isn’t. And, if he wants to go, you should take him with you,” she said softly, rubbing her thumb over his knuckles in a comforting manner, and she felt Anthony relax slightly beneath her fingertips.

Anthony sighed heavily, but they both knew she’d won the argument, and she couldn’t help but smirk, a little too pleased with herself.

“Very well. Gregory, you may join us,” he declared, and Gregory beamed, please. Then, Anthony stood up, “now, I shall go make preparations right now.” And, with that he stalked out of the room, no doubt going to his study.

The remaining Bridgerton brothers glanced at each other.

“Think he’ll duel Sir Phillip, too?” Gregory whispered, or tried to, anyway, but Kate heard him.

“I’m sure,” Colin nodded just as Humboldt returned with a tray of food. “Oh, Humboldt, you are a Godsend!” he exclaimed upon seeing the food.

The butler grinned, “not quite, Mr. Bridgerton. I am just doing my job,” he muttered.

“Thank you, Humboldt,” Kate added with a smile as Newton yapped at Colin and Gregory’s feet.

And then, there was the sound of crashing coming from down the hall, grabbing their attention.

“Kate!” Anthony bellowed loudly and Kate stood up, seeing Newton lift his head, too, but he made no move to leave the room. “Kate!” he yelled again, and she sighed.

“Excuse me, I am going to see what your brother is yelling about,” she told the other two before leaving the drawing room and rushing to Anthony’s study.

“Anthony!” she hissed as she entered the study, shutting the door behind her. “Do you want to wake Charlotte or the boys up?”

“Forgive me,” he muttered apologetically. Then, he turned to her, “Kate, darling, have you seen my pistols by any chance? They were in their case and I really do need them,” he said sweetly, but she wasn’t fooled by his tone.

“Nice try, Anthony,” she rolled her eyes. “I hid them,” she told him simply, not seeing any reason to hide the fact.

Anthony grunted, “Kate, you must give them to me,” he told her firmly. “I need them right now,” he added.

“To do what? Duel him? Absolutely not!” she snapped, scowling, crossing her arms.

“Kate…” Anthony edged out, gritting his teeth in annoyance. “I need them, and I don’t want to waste all night looking for them, so would you please just tell me where they are?”

“Now why would I do that?” she tutted. “I’m not going to enable you to get killed,” she added, pursing her lips, trying to catch his gaze.

“Kate…” he muttered, trailing off before he moved closer to her. “She is my sister. I must defend her honor,” he added, a hint of desperation in his tone.

She sighed, her expression softening as she lifted her hand to cup his cheek. “And you are my husband,” she said sofly, her gaze meeting his, her dark brown eyes staring into him, searching for something, something like an answer.

“Kate, when gentlemen are faced with certain situations, they must do what needs to be done. I am very well-educated in the matter, I know what to do,” he said, his own voice husky as he instinctively leaned into her touch.

Kate rolled her eyes, “ah, yes… leave it to the men. Of course. Because you know exactly what to do,” she grumbled. “Don’t be ridiculous, Anthony. Duels aren’t guaranteed. No matter how well you know what needs to be done, you can never predict how that bullet will move,” she said, pursing her lips.

Anthony just shook his head and pulled away, averting his gaze, and Kate’s stomach flipped nervously.

“What happens if you kill him?” she asked in a low voice, her heart hammering in her chest.

Without looking at her, her husband sighed, “I shall have to run away. Benedict will be head of the family in every way that matters and when Edmund is of age he can take over,” he told her.

“You would abandon me?” she asked, her voice uncharacteristically small, and she tried to catch her husband’s gaze, but he seemed intent on avoiding it.

“I would not have a choice. But, hopefully it won’t come to that if Eloise marries him,” he sighed.

Her brows knitted together as she struggled to ask her next question. “And, if you- if Sir Phillip k- kills you?” she whispered, her voice breaking on the last word.

“Edmund would inherit everything,” he told her, his own voice low, defeated.

“You would do that to Edmund? After what your father’s death-”

“Don’t bring father into this!” he growled. “That was an accident-”

“And this would be of your own reckless stupidity!” she snapped, cutting him off. “Yes, that sounds like a much better idea, Anthony. Either you kill him and you’re as good as dead or he kills you and you leave your children without a father and me a widow? Capital idea, my lord!”

“Kate-” he tried cutting in, but she didn’t let him, she wouldn’t let him.

“After everything we’ve been through, after all the pain you’ve endured thinking you would die soon, you would do something so reckless?” she demanded, crossing her arms over her chest as she glared at him. “How could you even… how could you even fathom leaving me?” she asked, shaking her head. “Leaving the boys and Charlotte?”

“Kate…” he repeated, but this time his voice was low, defeated, and she shook his head.

Slowly, she made her way to him and reached to cup his cheek once more, her thumb stroking along his jaw, and Anthony immediately relaxed, leaning into her touch.

“Anthony,” she murmured softly, “look at me. Please look at me, Anthony,” she begged. Finally, he tilted his head and met her gaze, his deep brown eyes shining with emotion, that crease between his eyebrows formed, a mark of the turmoil he felt. “Do you know what the boys asked me when I was tucking them in?”

“What?” he whispered.

“They asked me if their papa would duel like he did with Uncle Simon,” she told him, her voice gentle, not judging. “And, I told them you wouldn’t. I promised them you wouldn’t. I promised them, do you hear me?”

He nodded.

“I made a promise to our sons that you wouldn’t do anything like that. Don’t make me break that promise, Anthony. Don’t duel Sir Phillip. Just go and deal with this like a civilized person, okay? I know you can do it.”

Finally, he nodded, though the crease was still there, that tiny indentation of his skin that told her of her husband’s emotional state.

“Say it,” she whispered, her own voice thick with emotion. Her face was mere inches from his, their noses almost brushing, their breaths mingling a little. “Say it, Anthony,” she repeated, her voice a breathless whisper, cracking.

He sighed, “okay. I promise I will not challenge Sir Phillip Crane to a duel,” he told her, his voice firm, but resigned. “I give you my word, Kate. Do you hear me? I give you my word,” he swore, his voice firmer this time.

“Good,” she nodded. “You better not get yourself killed, or I will kill you myself,” she hissed, and his lips twitched slightly in amusement, but he nodded, still. Kate lifted her finger up and caressed the crease between his eyebrows, trying to smoothen it before tilting her head and brushing her lips against it, kissing it. When she pulled away, she looked into her husband’s eyes again, “I mean it, Anthony. Don’t you dare try to do something like that or I’ll kill you myself,” she added.

“I won’t. I promise,” he muttered before tilting his head and pressing a kiss to the inside of her palm. Then, he wrapped his free hand around her waist and pulled her closer. “Oh, come here, wife,” he whispered, pulling her in for a kiss she eagerly returned.

🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷

“What is the child doing here?” Benedict demanded as soon as Anthony, Colin and Gregory hoped out of the carriage.

“I am not a child!” Gregory snapped, affronted.

Colin shrugged, “he’s not. He’s an adult. What were we supposed to do? Leave him there?”

“Yes!” Both Benedict and him exclaimed, huffing in annoyance. Colin and Gregory both shot him pointed looks.

He sighed, raking a hand through his hair, “unfortunately we could not leave him. Kate wouldn’t let me. She practically forced me to take him,” he informed his younger brother.

Benedict nodded, “I see.”

“Hmph.”

Colin grinned jovially, “isn’t this great? A Bridgerton Brothers adventure?”

Anthony scowled at him, “Colin, do I need to remind you what exactly we’re doing here?”

“No, of course not! We shall all attack Sir Phillip,” he said, rolling his eyes. “Perhaps we should duel him,” he added. Gregory snickered. Anthony scowled.

“Colin is right,” Benedict said.

“About what?”

“Dueling Sir Phillip, of course! I hope you brought your pistols,” his younger brother said, his lip twitching slightly.

Anthony said nothing in response and merely swallowed thickly.

“Well?” Benedict snapped, turning to him. “Where are they?”

Anthony sighed, and did his best not to meet his younger brother’s gaze. Colin and Gregory exchanged amused looks, and Anthony flashed them both a glare.

“Don’t even-” he hissed when the two younger Bridgerton brothers looked to each other again while Benedict just looked confused.

“Anthony-” Gregory started to explain, his lip twitching slightly.

“Our dearest brother-” Colin interjected, eyes shining with mirth.

“Oh, do get on with it,” Anthony muttered, filled with irritation. Colin snorted.

Gregory just beamed, “well, you see, Benedict, our dearest brother, Anthony-”

Realization dawned on Benedict’s face. “You don’t have them,” he said, letting out a heavy, disappointed sigh.

“No, I do not,” he nodded, not particularly pleased with the situation himself, but he was hoping to keep the exact circumstances to himself. “Are the horses ready?”

“Yes, they are,” Benedict said, leading the three of them to where the horses were saddled up and ready, Colin and Gregory hoping onto two of the horses without waiting for them.

“Do you have yours?” he asked as Benedict hopped onto his own horse, and he grasped onto the saddle, lifting himself up and swinging his leg over, mounting himself.

“No,” Benedict shrugged. “I couldn’t find them, but I figured you’d bring them,” he said as the two of them steered their horses ahead. Behind them, Colin and Gregory snickered. “What is up with those two?” he asked, nodding his head over at the two younger brothers.

“I have no idea. Do you know the way to Romney Hall?” he asked his brother, who just grunted in the affirmative. Colin and Gregory continued muttering quietly between themselves, snickering and laughing like two idiots.

“Okay!” Benedict snapped. “Why are the two of you laughing like two idiots?”

Colin grinned devilishly while Gregory merely grinned, and Anthony wanted the earth to swallow him whole.

“Oh, for the love of God-” he groaned as he kicked his horse, urging the animal into a slow trot.

“Kate took them!” Colin exclaimed gleefully.

“And, hid them,” Gregory snickered.

“Oh,” Benedict shrugged. “Why didn’t you find them? I hear the two of you always play with hiding your lucky mallet. Why didn’t you just look for it?” he asked as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Anthony stiffened slightly, much to the amusement of his younger brothers. He cleared his throat, “well, you see, Benedict,” he drawled, “I would have except-”

“-except he’s absolutely terrified of her!” Colin chimed, and Gregory chortled while Benedict snorted, obviously amused himself.

Anthony just groaned as they continued to laugh. His brothers were absolutely ridiculous, currently having a laugh at his expense, at the fact that he was scared of his wife. But, if any of them had seen Kate earlier, they would have been scared, too.

“Yes, I am scared of my wife!” he snapped angrily, yanking on his reigns and pulling his horse to a stop. His brothers did the same. “And, if you fools had a wife like mine you would be, too! Yes, Kate hid those bloody pistols and even if I tried looking for them, I would have never found them in time!” he shouted. “Where are your pistols, Benedict? Huh?”

“Uh…” his brother trailed off.

“I thought so!” he huffed. “There will be no duels. God willing, this Sir Phillip Crane person hasn’t hurt Eloise and she’ll marry him and that will be the end of it,” he said, not leaving any room for argument.

“And, if he hurt her?” Gregory asked, exchanging a nervous look with Colin.

“If he’s hurt her, I won’t need to duel him to kill him,” he growled before kicking his horse hard, urging the animal forward into a gallop, his brothers all struggling to catch up with him.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Hot Blood [1]

Warnings: non-consent sex

This is dark! (mob) skinny Steve and explicit. 18+ only.

Synopsis: Steve Rogers is on the rise in the New York underground as you’re trying to keep your own place there.

Note: This will only be two parts because I couldn’t fit it into a oneshot. Yes, I took liberties in terms of not making Steve brittle as a twig so forgive me for that. Also this is back in the 1940s, so keep that in mind. :) Otherwise, I love writing my skinny boy and hope you like it too.

Thanks to everyone for their patience and feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

You wanna prove you're the better man You wanna reach for the things that nobody can

🌆

You checked your watch as you strode down the sidewalk. You felt the snugness of the bundle just under your jacket as you pulled your hat lower over your eyes. At the right angle, you seemed a man about his business. A closer look and you were nothing but a woman in pinstripe trousers.

Another day, another drop. You were tiring of the tawdry tasks but the reality of your position, of your sex, was inevitable. The men were back from the war and the women were expected to return to their kitchens. Well, most of them.

It was easier in the days before victory. When you were the one sending others on your tasks. But Vic had survived his campaign in Italy and he was back with a vengeance, and few scars. The only thing which kept him from tossing you entirely was that you’d kept his organization afloat in his absence. You’d even thrown the feds off his trail and onto another’s.

Even so, life wasn’t what it was. You had to take orders, had to swallow your pride. Well, it was better than living as some bastard’s wife; better than a secretary in a tight skirt. You checked the time again and looked ahead to the brick building with the rusted horseshoe over its door.

You neared and leaned against the bricks. You turned to face the street and watched pedestrians pass. You knocked with your elbow. Two knocks, a pause, then three more. You waited and listened. The door shifted and you spun quickly as you muttered “iodine” and the code word saw you past the man on the other side.

And yet, another change. The warehouse was empty. You looked to the man who’d answered the door. It wasn’t the usual fellow. You frowned and your hand went to your waist and felt the wooden inlay of your pistol.

“Wouldn’t do that,” The man warned. “Boss is on his way. He doesn’t care for corpses. Too much clean up.”

“Boss?” You kept your hand poised but didn’t draw. “And who exactly is your boss?”

“People fall for that?” He ignored your question as he pointed to your jacket. 

“Fall for what?”

“You don’t exactly fill out a three-piece,” He reached into your pocket and you gripped your gun. He pulled out a silver cigarette case and popped it open. “Well, you know…” He gestured to his shoulder, “In some ways.”

You scoffed and shook your head as he offered you a smoke. He shrugged and put one between his lips.

“You didn’t tell me who your boss was,” You said as he struck a match and lit the cigarette.

“Vic didn’t tell you?” He asked. “Heli don’t run Brooklyn anymore.”

“He mentioned there was trouble but there always is in Brooklyn,” You tilted your head and ran your finger along your pistol handle. 

He chuckled and took a drag.

“Bucky,” He held out his hand. “Boss will be here soon.”

You shook his hand and retreated, pacing two steps back and forth as you waited.

“This isn’t how it goes. I drop the money and go.” You stopped. “Never more than five minutes.”

“You got somewhere to be?” He asked. “You must be popular with the boys. Hell, war was so long, they’d fuck a hole in the wall.”

“I usually tell em to use the wall,” You countered. “You’re boss better show in the next five minutes or--”

The back door of the warehouse opened and shut suddenly. You turned as a shadow fluttered in the small slats of light which peeked in through the high windows.

“Kid took a wrong turn,” The voice sounded as footsteps cut through the silence. “You get the money.”

“Drop’s right here,” Bucky said as he nodded to you.

Your mouth fell open as you saw the man who appeared before you. Short, slender; skinny, actually. Even his tailored suit added little to his figure and his chin seemed even sharper in contrast to the angles of his hat. His blue eyes met yours and he removed the hat.

“Miss,” He seemed as surprised as you felt.

You laughed. You didn’t mean to. You covered your mouth before you could guffaw and looked at Bucky.

“That the new boss man?” You asked.

“Steve Rogers,” The skinny man said tersely. “And yes, I’m the boss man so you talk to me, not him.”

“Course,” You said coolly. “Vic wants a single load through Brooklyn.” You carefully reached into your jacket and dislodged the bundle of money from the waist of your pants. “Tomorrow, clearance till noon.”

He watched you and then his eyes flicked to the money. Usually, they saw the green first.

“Your husband let you run around playing these games?” He asked.

“We know this isn’t a game,” You said. “And, if I did have a husband, he couldn’t keep me from my business.”

He chuckled.

“Sorry, I’m just, a little amused. I expected a man.” He said.

“Me, too,” You tossed the money at his feet. “But I guess they’re all busy doing the real work.”

His smile fell. He toed the money but didn’t take it.

“You gonna wear the pants, you gonna be treated like what you’re pretending to be,” He beckoned Bucky forward. “Cause I don’t see a lady.”

“No, you don’t,” You said defiantly as Bucky came closer. 

Steve nodded and Bucky bent to grab the money. You held Steve’s gaze, the anger obvious in their glint as his narrow jaw ticked.

“Tell Vic he’s got til noon. Sharp.” He said. “Bucky, see her out.”

He put his hat back on and turned away. Bucky waved you away and you followed him back to the door. His hand rested on the metal handle and he paused.

“Put the torch to this place,” He said. “Next drop will be on our ground.”

“Sure,” You said and he pushed down.

“Oh,” Bucky stopped as he opened the door just a sliver. “I’m not much for advice but work on the lip. He won’t put up with that for long.”

“Not my boss,” You uttered. “He got his money.”

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” He shook his head and opened the door. 

You stepped out into the sunlight and strode away. You’d have a word with Vic. You’d think he’d have enough sense to mention a change in personnel but he hadn’t had much sense since he returned.

🌆

You sat along the bar as voices buzzed in the late morning din. The old pub which had glowed during Prohibition had grown darker over the years. With rationing, it had become lifeless, barely revived in the post-war jubilance. It didn’t matter much; it had never been meant for just booze, merely a cover for more illicit trades.

As usual, Vic was in his office. He wasn’t the same talkative man he had been, though his temper had worsened. When he wanted to be heard, he made sure of it. His propensity for violence had turned to an indifference to violence. There was no barrier left between him and blood. His hair trigger made him vulnerable; it made you all vulnerable.

The bar door shook and you looked over. Several bangs before the latch busted and Donny burst in with Richie hanging from his shoulder. He dragged the bleeding man inside and dropped him onto the floor as he fell to his knees. You rose and quickly shut the door. No one used that door during the day.

“Get rags,” Arnold called and rushed behind the bar.

Donny’s arm was bleeding as Richie gripped his side, his hands red and wet. Arnold tossed you a rag and you bent beside Richie. You took his hand and pressed the rag between it and his side. You applied pressure as Donny tied up his arm with his belt.

“What fuck happened?” You ask as you leaned on Richie and tried to stem the flow.

Arnold ran out calling for Pauly. He’d been a medic during the war but tended to drink away whatever use he had left to the organization. He was likely sleeping off last night in one of the stinky rooms above that were rented out by the hour.

“Where’s the cargo?” Vic asked as he appeared in the broad archway which parted the barroom from the kitchen and his office.

“Christ, he’s bleeding out, Vic,” You hissed as Donny handed you another cloth and grabbed another for his arm.

“We got hit.” Donny leaned heavily on a stool. “It’s gone.”

“What the fuck?” Vic swore. “Who--”

“Rogers,” Richie gasped and you scrambled to keep the crimson from leaking past your fingers. “He said…”

“Take was short.” Donny finished. “Five shy.”

“Five shy. No, I gave him the right drop,” You insisted.

Arnold brushed by Vic and Pauly ambled in beside him. The former dropped the small chest of bandages and the like beside Richie as the latter came around to you and yawned as he knelt. He casually waved you away and took the rags from you. He peeked under them and pressed down.

“Got a lighter?” He asked. “Get me some tweezers.”

You held up your bloody hands and Arnold got down to search through the box ox of odds and ends.

“New boss, new prices,” Donny uttered. “S’what they said before they…” He looked at Richie and blanched.

“God fucking dammit, I new that little rat was up to no good,” Vic punched his palm. “Had the gall to come in here and put an offer down on this shit hole like he can buy what I built for a couple bills.”

“What?” You reeled as you tried to wipe clean your hands. “He made you an offer?”

“He’s a goddamn upstart,” He snarled. “I seen his kind back before the war, when the Depression had us scraping trash cans for dinner. He’d sell his own mother. Probably has.”

“How can he-- Heli didn’t have that much going on.” You argued.

“The twerp spent a couple years up in Chicago before he decided to come home and make his stake,” Vic said. “Too skinny to serve so he ran wild over there. Now he’s got a gun and some money and he thinks he can just take the whole city.”

“Hold him down!” Pauly yelled and you looked over as he was digging the tweezers into Richie’s side. The wail which rose was sickening.

“Vic, you didn’t even tell me he’d taken over,” You snarled. “Now I double counted that take but you’re the one who arranged it. He said fifteen not twenty, right?”

“I told him I wouldn’t give him any more than I did Heli.” He sneered.

“And?” You urged.

“He said we’d see. And I never heard nothing else.” He growled.

“You didn’t hear anything or you just made an assumption?”

“I handled worse over in Italy,” He grumbled. “Little twit doesn’t scare me.”

“It’s not just him,” You huffed. 

It was so much easier when he was gone. You and Arnold had been a great team. He was too old to serve and he was wise; pragmatic. Don’t play big, play smart.

“Another word,” Vic warned. “I’m tired of the fucking mouth on you. Men go away for a couple years and all you bitches learned to bark.”

“If we hadn’t, you’d have nothing to come back to,” You retorted. “And I learned more than how to bark.”

“You think you know it all. You run around in your suits and play gangster, little girl.” He snarled. “I saw men holding their insides; I ran into a haze of bullets and you did what? Gave away your stockings and baked cakes without sugar.”

“You got a man holding his insides right here,” You snapped. “I should’ve let Crane have this place. I drove that snake out on my own. Me. So don’t you call me little girl.”

A knock interrupted him as his face turned red. The front door had fallen open as a figure leaned in the doorway. So slim it could only be one person. You reached for your gun along with Vic and Donny. The other men continued their struggle on the floor.

“What the fuck are you doing here, Rogers?” Vic pulled the hammer back on his gun.

“Wow,” Steve stopped a few feet inside and several men, including Bucky, entered behind him, guns in hand. “I’m not here for a fight, if I can help it. I’m here for the rest of my take.”

“You already shot my men. I don’t owe you shit.” Vic hissed.

Steve chuckled and put his hands on his hips. He looked to the floor, the blood, the whimpers, then to you. He took his hat off and nodded in your direction.

“But I see they’re still alive.” Steve said. “And I got your cargo. More than willing to hand it over so long as I get my dues.”

“Maybe it wasn’t that skinny fucking ass that kept out of the war; maybe it was that peanut brain,” Vic said.

“I’m all for negotiating,” Steve said coolly. “But I’m gonna need you to calm down, Victor.”

“Calm down. I want my goods.” He insisted. “And my money back.”

“I don’t often give warnings,” Steve’s voice was even and quiet. Scarily calm. “But I will allow you one. I will finish what my men started and then I will burn this place with your bodies inside of it. Then I will hunt down every man who ever tied himself to your limping horse and put them next to you in the ashes.”

“Bull,” Vic scoffed.

“Jeffrey, by the bridge,” Steve said. “Friendly guy. Knows a lot about the city. Gave me an interesting little map. Looks like safe houses… in your neighbourhood. I don’t need to barter with you, Victor, but I am, because I can be nice. I prefer it over having to get mean.”

“Jeffrey,” Vic shook his head. “That shit.”

“Oh yes, if it wasn’t for his ties out west, I’d already have done him in myself but… he has his uses.”

Silence but for Richie groans and the squelch of flesh and blood. You glanced between the two men. Vic looked tired. You realised he was halfway drunk.

“How long? For the five I owe you?” He slowly lowered his gun.

“How long?” Steve smirked. “I’m not leaving without it.”

“Don’t keep my safe here. That’d be too obvious.” Vic said.

“No? Or maybe… you don’t got it?” Steve challenged. “Besides, I can’t trust you to send anyone for it because I can’t have them returning with more than the bills, can I?”

Victor was quiet and you glanced back at him. He looked lost. It was a look which had become common for him. As if he was far away.

“But…” Steve said. “There is value beyond paper.”

“Take a cut,” You intoned as Vic remained speechless. “That would more than even the debt.”

“And have to sell it myself? No.” He said. “But I do see something that I want.”

Steve’s heels tapped on the old floorboards and he stopped before you. You stared at him then looked around. You lifted a brow as you looked back to him. He touched your gun and you lowered it. You wanted to raise it again but Richie’s cries tugged at your ears. He took the pistol.

“I’ll take her,” He touched the lapel of your jacket.

“What? No, that’s not--”

“Fine,” Vic agreed a little too quickly. “All yours. But I’ll let you know, she’s a mouthy one.”

“Oh, I know,” Steve winked at you. “But you won’t get anywhere if you’re not bold.”

“You can’t--”

“I can,” Steve leaned in as he lowered his voice. “Because if you leave this bar without me, you won’t get far. I put the word out and you’re dead before nightfall…” He straightened your jacket. “But I prefer you living.”

He drew back and walked back to his men.

“Truck’s out front. All is accounted for. Ledger’s are balanced.” He said. “For now.”

You were jolted forward as Bucky grabbed your arm. You hadn’t seen him approach and he easily dragged you along as Steve left with his men in tow. You were numb but angry. You struggled until Bucky had your arm twisted behind your back.

“I told you,” He said. “He doesn’t like the back talk.”

🌆

You were silent as you peered through the windshield then glanced at the man in the driver’s seat. Bucky had wrestled you into the car himself but it had taken the flash of a muzzle to get you to stay.

Steve sat beside you in the back of the long car. He still had your pistol in hand and you watched as he emptied the bullets and dropped them in his pocket. He turned the gun over in his hand and ran his fingertip along the wood inlay carved with intricate grooves.

“This is a nice piece,” He said. 

He checked the chamber one last time and handed it back to you. You holstered the pistol and leaned into the door as you looked out onto the streets. The buildings were strangely familiar.

“Where are we going?” You asked.

“You talking to me?” Steve countered. You turned to him and arched a brow. “Because when you are talking to me, you need to look at me, doll.”

“My name isn’t doll,” You crossed your arms. “This isn’t Brooklyn.”

“We’ll get to that,” He said. “You should be more than familiar with these slums.”

You squinted and shook your head.

“How did you--”

“I got eyes across the city and a woman like you sticks out,” He said. “Now, I’d like to forget our first meeting and start off on a better note.”

“Yeah? Do you usually buy people like race horses.” You scoffed.

“You’re a fine mare,” He grinned. “But that mouth does you a disservice.”

“So, what exactly do you want? You want me to say you’re a big man? Tell you you’re the boss?” You taunted. “I wonder how that ego fits in that body.”

“One thing at a time, doll,” He said.

“It’s not ‘doll’,” You growled. 

He chuckled and propped his elbow up on the door.

“My eyes have ears. They’ve told me a lot about you.” He said. “Must be hard with all the men back in town. I dare say, you might have been rooting for the other side.”

“Oh?” Your nostrils flared at the implication. “You running with those double-dealing bastards down in Chicago and you’re accusing me of sedition.”

“Chicago was a stepping stone,” He waved you off. “And a valuable ally. This world’s a whole lot bigger than five boroughs.”

The car stopped and you looked past Steve. Your building stood just outside his window and you sighed.

“No doubt bigger than you,” You rolled your eyes. “I’m not dumb enough to think you’re just giving me a ride home…”

“We got ten minutes,” He checked his watch as he opened his door. “Grab what you need. I got a schedule to keep.”

He got out and you pushed open your own door. You rounded the front of the car and peered down the sidewalk. You could run. The thought was tempting, but if Steve could figure out where you lived in less than a day, he could likely suss you out just as easily.

You followed him up the cracked walk of the building and he opened the grated door for you. You shot him a look before you stepped through. You fished around for your keys and unlocked the second metal door. He trailed you up the narrow staircase and you came to your door among the row of cramped apartments.

You entered with him behind you. His footsteps were light and barely disturbed the creaky floorboards. He closed the door swiftly as you glanced around your tiny home. There wasn’t much to it but it was yours. 

He brushed past you and went to the small kitchen which was barely more than a sink and stove. He pulled open the drawers one at a time and shuffled through them.

“What are you doing?” You asked.

He held up a box of bullets and shook them.

“Grab some clothes,” He said as he continued his search. “And anything else you need.”

You let out a breath and rounded the threadbare sofa. You went to the small closet on the other side of the apartment and slid open the accordion door. Inside hung jackets in varying tones of monochrome and pants to match. Dress shirts and vests filled out the rest of the assortment. You sensed movement behind you as you reached for a hanger.

“That’s all you got?” He asked as he came up beside you and tutted. 

You looked over at him as he slid the hangers from side to side and examined your clothes.

“No, no, this won’t do,” He said. 

“What are you--”

“This,” He tugged on your sleeve. “Is doing you no favours. Not to worry, I’ll send for some nice skirts, a couple dresses--”

“No,” You said pointedly. “No, I won’t--”

“You’re not getting this, are you?” He sneered. “I don’t need some pussycat in a suit, I got more men than I can count.” You stared at him as foreboding roiled in your stomach. “What I need is a gal on my arm,” He reached out and touched your cheeks. “With a pretty smile,” His fingers crept down your neck and rested on your shoulders, “In a pretty little number.”

You grabbed his wrists and tried to shove him away. Despite his slim figure, he was stronger than you expected. He twisted his arms around and grabbed your wrists. He drew you close.

“If you were a man, you wouldn’t have left that warehouse,” He growled. “So consider yourself lucky…” His eyes drifted down. “The walk gives you away. Your hips…” He tilted his head from side to side. “The ass…”

“Get off of me,” You hissed and pulled away. He released you and you nearly stumbled.

“Don’t bother with the clothes,” He sighed. “But grab whatever else you need; hairbrush, soap… I guess you wouldn’t have lipstick, would you?”

“You really that hard-up for a girl?” You laughed dryly.

He smiled and licked his lips. “Women aren’t as complicated as they pretend to be. Not if you got your pockets full. So no, not hard-up for a girl… just you, doll.”

“Not doll,” You huffed and spun away from him. His low laughter made your lip curl.

“Five minutes,” He warned.

[some-cookie-crumbz]

BNHA, MomoJirou?

Prompts 25. "I know this looks bad, but I swear, it's not."

So many ways this could go~! Hopefully the route I took was a fun one!

Minor Trigger Warning: Mentions of Blood

Momo considered herself to be a rather fortunate woman. She had a financially successful family, a great relationship with her father and was working on things with her mother, a close-knit group of friends she loved dearly, and had started a paid internship just a few weeks back for a designing agency run by The Kayama Nemuri. She knew that she was an incredibly lucky person, that there were those who would kill for the opportunities she had been given, and made sure to wear her gratitude on her sleeve to everyone she knew. She put all her effort and energy into being a good daughter, a good friend, and a good employee, doing whatever she could through action to help emphasize the depth and sincerity of her gratitude. After all, actions were a great indicator of the merit of one's words!

But sadly… Her love life hadn’t seen nearly as many returns as the rest of her life had.

She’d had three relationships in the past and they’d all been… lackluster, to put it mildly. Her first relationship had been a situation where she agreed to date the guy more out of obligation than anything. He had been incredibly nice to her and her then-friends had insisted that meant she at least owed him a chance to prove himself as a boyfriend. The relationship had only lasted three months of her first year of high school and ended so horribly that her father had transferred her to a new school at the conclusion of her first semester.

The school she transferred to was a girls-only boarding school and where she grew into her sexual identity as a pansexual woman. She had a longer relationship with one of her classmates that started in the winter of her second year and ended in the spring of their third year, with her ex immediately jumping to date another of their peers within a week of the break up. It had been painful to watch and, for about a year after, she had avoided relationships for a while.

Her relationship after that had been even worse. She didn’t like to dwell on that ex too much simply because… Well, how incredibly awful it had been. The relationship had felt much more like the two of them getting together because they were afraid of being single in their group of friends. The two of them had nearly no common interests and her ex had always seemed to find her passion for fashion design to be a waste of time, frequently inquiring why she didn’t study something more “practical”. Momo herself, however, thought that her degree plan had been more than practical, considering her minor had been in business.

That relationship lasted ten months and ended when she learned of an affair.

She’d taken a two year break from dating after that, focusing instead on her friend and family and school. All of her friends had rallied around her after that break up, helping to lift her back up, and she had been incredibly grateful for it. They reminded her to never settle for less than she was worth, to wait until someone who deserved her commitment came around.

And then, one day, she met Jirou Kyouka.

Their first meeting had been an impromptu sort of thing. Momo’s dear friend Mina had to take her new puppy, Floofles, to the vet for vaccines and spaying. It was an overnight situation with a designated pick-up time, but Mina had to be at work during the time. She has begged Momo if, since she was free that day, she could pick Floofles up and monitor her until she herself was home. And not one to let a friend in need down, Momo had agreed.

In the lobby of the little vet clinic had sat a young woman in dark colors, with short cut indigo hair, and a snarling mass of hay colored fur in her lap. Momo had been a few minutes early and was urged to take a seat while she waited, causing her to settle into the vacancy next to the stranger and her displeased pet. Upon closer examination she realized that it was a cat, with a front paw that looked to be at an odd angle, which seemed to explain the attitude. “Oh, the poor little dear,” she murmured quietly, not thinking as the words left her mouth.

Dark eyes flickered up to her, the gleam of disinterest fading to a light of interest. Her lips twitched up in a small smile. “Thank you, but he did this to himself,” she hummed, reaching out to set one hand on the cat’s head. He responded by growling audibly and jerking his head out from under her touch. “Leave the patio door open unsupervised for one minute, and he leaps out to chase a bird. Eats shit and ends up hurting his paw.”

The cat let out a displeased hiss at his dirty laundry being aired, but it only resulted in both women laughing. The next few minutes waiting for Floofles had passed in the blink of an eye as she chatted up the cat owner, learning that the cat was named Dynamight and was just a grumpy old man trapped in the body of a young cat. Once Floofles was brought out to her, Momo asked for the other’s number, explaining she wanted to see how Dynamight was doing once his paw got looked at. And while there was genuine care about the cat’s well being involved, there had also been a selfish motivation behind it, too. Her companion seemed to know as much but didn’t draw attention to it as they exchanged numbers.

That was eleven months ago, with she and Jirou’s nine month anniversary as an official couple just on the horizon. And Momo couldn’t help but smile whenever she thought about it. Jirou was unlike her past partners in so many ways. She encouraged and supported Momo’s designing works, they shared a secret love of true crime love documentaries, and she was incredibly laid back. With her, Momo could feel her walls fall down and she felt genuinely secure about it. There was something naturally calming about Jirou’s presence and approach to life - of going with the flow and taking things as they came - that was refreshing and exhilarating. So much of Momo’s own life had been slotted around by activity start and end times, of living up to expectations both real and imagined, that the idea of simply letting things be and dealing with them as they came up was incredibly freeing.

The thought occurred to her as she stepped out of the elevator at Jirou’s apartment complex and started to make her way to her door. Normally, she made sure to reach out before dropping by. Part of it was because she didn’t like just showing up unannounced, but another reason was because of her girlfriend’s erratic work schedule. The other woman did freelance work of some kind - the details were vague and confidential - so her hours tended to shift depending on the needs of her client. Sometimes, she’d be free for a good three or four days, while other times she’d be engrossed in her projects for hours at a time. Things had been pretty quiet from what little she remembered last time they talked about work, though, so she felt things would be fine this one time.

She opened the door to the front door, unsurprised to find it unlocked. Jirou tended to leave the door unlocked in case her neighbor, a bedraggled single father, ever needed to ask for an impromptu baby-sitter. His daughter liked cats and Dynamight, as Momo herself had seen, was surprisingly agreeable with the young girl when she came by. She half expected to see young Eri settled on the couch, a Disney movie playing on the television, while Jirou prepared dinner or worked on something for a client, when she stepped in.

Only to stop just a few steps through the threshold.

A map of the city was spread across the coffee table, two large pillar candles set up at the far corners of the table, while Jirou was kneeling in front of it. She was cutting open what seemed to be a small blood donation bag with some scissors, a small wooden box to her left with what seemed to be crystals inside. After a moment, Jirou reached towards the box and pulled one out, a thin strand of yarn wrapped around the crystal. She released a slow breath. “Okay, Kyouka… This shouldn’t be too hard. You haven’t exactly used this combination before but it should work out fine,” she mumbled to herself, moving the crystal to dangle over the open lip of the bag.

Momo couldn’t help it; she gasped, loud and horrified. She was completely stunned. What was all of this? What purpose did it serve? It all seemed incredibly occult. Jirou had never seemed like the type to have such interests. Hearing her gasp, Jirou jerked to stare at her with a horrified stare of her own. She opened her mouth twice, clearly scrambling to find words to string together, before she clamped it shut with a soft click of her jaw.

They stared at one another for a long moment, eyes wide and their heart beats seeming to echo in the tiny space.

"I know this looks bad, but I swear, it's not!" Jirou yelped, finally cutting through the silence, dropping the blood bag in her hands and letting it hit the ground with a sickening splat sound. Momo felt her whole body shudder with the sound and her stomach flipped uneasily. She shifted her weight back on the heels of her feet while keeping her eyes fixated on Jirou.

“Tch! She’s gonna try and make a break for it if you don’t seal the door off, ya idiot!” For a moment, Momo was befuddled by the new voice she heard. She swore she could hear quiet, cat-like growls between their words, but… That wouldn’t make sense, right? Who does cat impressionations while speaking? Slowly she turned her head in the directions of the voice, her eyes landing on the familiar fluffy form of Dynamight sitting on the kitchen counter. His pupils shrunk to slimmer slits before he curled his lips back, the voice from before sneering, “Oh, looks like she’s starting to put shit together! Get your head back in the fucking game!”

Dynamight… Her cat… Was talking? But then… Talking cats were common of…

Momo whipped around and moved to rush for the apartment door, heart beating erratically in her chest. If this was all really happening, she needed to get out! Before a hex of some kind could be placed on her, or even worse! “Wait, Yaomomo! Please hear me out!” Jirou called out after her.

Just as her hands made to grab for the handle, it shriveled and withered into the door itself like a rotten fruit being reclaimed by its tree. A startled shriek left her as she scrambled backwards, watching with wide eyes as the rest of the door melted into the frame, the seam separating the two disappearing completely. She felt herself drop to her knees and wrap her arms tight around herself. “Oh God,” she breathed shakily, closing her eyes tightly as she heard soft footfalls approaching her. “I promise I won’t tell anyone about this! J-Just please! D-Don’t hu-hurt me! L-Let me go!”

There was a quiet swishing of wind and fabric before she felt herself being lifted slightly. Then, there was a soft and warm hand gently cupping her cheek. “I would never hurt you, Momo. Please… Even if you aren’t sure how to feel about the rest of this, please know that much is the truth,” The other woman’s voice hitched with pain as she spoke, clearly wounded by the suggestion. She peeked her eyes open to see she was floating just a few feet above the ground so that she was able to meet the other’s dark eyes. Those same eyes were pleading and vulnerable.

Momo swallowed thickly before timidly nodding her head. “I’m sorry,” she breathed softly.

“No, I understand. This… Isn’t what you were anticipating to walk into,” Jirou said with a small sigh before glancing over at the sacrificial site set up on her coffee table. “Just let me clean that up real fast, put on some tea and then I’ll explain.” Momo nodded with a bit more certainty before she was carefully floated over and set delicately on the couch.

She sat and watched in quiet bemusement as the other skittered to and fro, using what Momo could only assume was magic to help her. The longer she observed, the more relaxed she gradually became. While she worked at getting the blood cleaned up off the wood paneling, Dynamight actually rummaged through the kitchen cabinets to fish out the kettle and start filling it up. It was a little impressive to watch how he did it with his paws and teeth, though she could still hear the quiet grumbled swears he released as he did. Once all the summoning stuff and blood were cleaned up, Jirou prepared them each a cup of tea and settled into the couch seat a space away from Momo, giving her a good amount of breathing room.

She handed the cup over carefully with one hand. “I went with that citrus one you brought a while back. I remembered that one having a nice little zing to it,” she explained.

“Thank you,” Momo took a quick sip of her own cup, disregarding how it scalded her tongue just a smidge. “So… You’re a witch, I take it.” she said evenly.

Jirou nodded. “Yes, I am,”

“And Dynamight-!”

“Bakugo,”

“Huh?”

“His actual name is Bakugo Katsuki. Dynamight is just his… um.. Common cat name. Easier than explaining the logistics of a familiar,” she explained with a small nervous laugh.

“So he is your familiar,” she mused, taking another sip. The other nodded as she took a sip from her own cup as well, setting it on the coaster on the coffee table when she was done. 

Jirou’s hands clutched at her knees, eyes skirting down to stare at them instead. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. I’ve wanted to but… I was worried. There’s a lot of paperwork and hoops to jump through to get that kind of clearance. And even then… There’s no guarantee that you’d want to keep that knowledge. And if that happened, your memories would have to be wiped and I couldn’t see you anymore.”

Momo blinked in surprise. “Wait, what?”

“It’s a safety protocol that the higher ups implement to keep the general public safe, as well as those of us in the bureau,” she sighed, lifting her head to peek up at her worriedly. It was clear she was uneasy but was also being transparent. “Though, I suppose I should actually… Well, explain what’s going on here, huh?”

She nodded. “So… Is this related to your work?”

“Yes, actually. See, I’m aligned with what’s called the I.B.O.M.O., which is abbreviated further to I-Boom, and is short for International Bureau of Magical Events. As a representative, I have the ability to travel between this realm - the mortal plane - and the realm of magical creatures - the magical plane. As such, it is my responsibility to keep instances of magical creatures and mortal interactions limited. Part of that is tracking down rogue magicals that come into the mortal plane without the proper permissions and, if they encounter a mortal, wiping memories and issuing out punishments,” she explained, picking her cup back up and taking a sip.

“So what you were doing… Was that related to something like that?” Momo asked with a tilt of her head.

Jirou nodded. “Yes. I was trying to scry. My current assignment is to track down the heir of a noble warlock family who has apparently fled to this plane. He is apparently somewhere in this city but.. Well, since he hails from a high ranking family, his magical skills have been well-honed so trying to find him has been a struggle. I’d been hoping that by combining my scrying technique and a powerful conjuring technique using the bird blood I could… Well… Try to get some idea as to where he might be,” she sighed, letting her shoulders slump. “This is the longest I’ve ever taken on an assignment and it’s.. Well, it’s difficult.”

Momo stared at her before glancing back down at her cup. Her thumb traced along the rim of the cup thoughtfully, an idea turning about in her head. “Could… Could I help you find him?”

“Huh?”

“The fuck can a human like you do to help?” Dynamight - erh, Bakugo? - chimed in, hopping down from the breakfast nook and trotting over. He scrambled up and sat on the table, glaring her down with his ears back and fluffy tail lashing. “If a witch with as many accomplishments as Earlobes is having a hard time, what fucking chance does a mere human like you have?”

“Well, if you have an idea of around when he appeared, I can ask around,” Momo said, tone a little petulant. The sheer lunacy that she was arguing with a cat wasn’t lost on her completely - and she made note to ask Jirou later how, exactly, it was she could hear his voice - but she still felt the need to, as immature as it was. “I have a lot of connections around the city. I might be able to get you a list of suspects, since there is the chance he could do… Um… What is it called? Glamour?”

Jirou giggled a bit. “You’re right. Glamour is the tool magical creatures use to disguise their true forms,” She lightly tapped her chin in thought. “Hmm. That’s not a bad idea, actually. He could be using glamour to disguise his appearance since it’s so unique. Make himself harder to find.” Momo smiled at Jirou’s words, her heart fluttering a bit at the prospect of being about to help her girlfriend. “But… If you’re going to get involved, I’ll need to file the proper paperwork and make a protection charm for you. I want you to be safe. I don’t think the nobleman would harm you but… I don’t know the specifics of why he left the magical plan unannounced. I’d rather air on the side of caution.”

Momo nodded as she took another sip of her tea. A part of her told her she shouldn’t get this invested. It was Jirou’s work and she herself wasn’t a witch. She shouldn’t be getting involved too heavily. But… If she could help her girlfriend, wasn’t it worth it? If it gave her a chance to show how much she appreciated how good Jirou was to her, it had to be worth it.

[be11atrixthestrange]

The Loft (Chapter 2)

After a bad break-up, Hermione Granger moves into a messy and dysfunctional loft with four single men. What starts as a temporary home until she gets back on her feet becomes so much more, as she learns there's a lot of life - and love - that happens at rock-bottom.

Inspired by the TV Series ‘New Girl’

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Also on A03 | FFN

More Chapters

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Chapter 2

[Ron]

Shoveling cereal into his mouth, Ron stares across the room to where Hermione's sprawled out on the couch amidst a crocheted blanket and a mountain of tissues. Apart from her personal bubble of chaos, the loft itself is immaculate. Over the past week, Hermione dedicated all of her free time to either crying over romantic comedies, or stress cleaning, and as a result, the loft looks like an Ikea showroom, and Ron's Netflix recommendations are all fucked up.

"Didn't you watch that one yesterday?" he asks with a mouth full of food.

Hermione props herself up onto her elbows and raises an eyebrow at him. "Yes, I did. Why does it matter?"

"Dunno," he shrugs, before slurping the remaining milk from the cereal bowl. "Seems kinda pointless."

Ron sets the empty bowl into the sink and is about to leave the kitchen, but stops when Hermione clears her throat.

"What?"

"You're just going to leave your bowl there?"

"Yep. That's how things work here. When you need a dish, you take a dirty one from the sink and wash it."

"I've noticed," she says, "and I think it's disgusting."

"Well, you're new here, so you're the one that has to adapt. It's simple, really."

Ignoring her eye roll, he breezes past the couch and into his bedroom. She can deal with a few dirty dishes.

Unfortunately, the interaction reminds him that he has a pile of dirty laundry to clean. Groaning, he trudges over to the closet and braces himself for the mess when he opens the door.

To his shock, there is no mess. In fact, everything is clean, folded, and neatly stacked on his shelves. What should be a pleasant surprise instead makes his blood boil — only one person in this loft would even think about doing his laundry, and it's the same person who has absolutely no right to touch his underwear. His face heats up as he realizes what she's probably seen — Ron's underwear collection isn't exactly manly, and there are certain things Hermione doesn't need to know about him yet. Or ever, for that matter.

Ron storms back into the living room, clutching a wad of clean boxers. "Hermione!"

"What?"

"What the fuck?" He waves his underwear at her. What's the point of hiding them anymore when she's already rummaged through them all?

"You're welcome!" she hisses. "Your laundry was getting full. And stinky."

"I didn't say thank you," he says. "You can't just go through my clothes! Do your own laundry."

She mumbles something into her throw blanket just as Ron slams his bedroom door behind him.

Once in his room, Ron scrambles for his phone to send a text to the loft's group chat — the one that doesn't include Hermione yet.

Loft meeting in ten. My room. Don't tell H.

x

There's a knock at Ron's door ten minutes later, and Ron opens it to find Neville waiting patiently, bouncing on his heel. Hermione's still curled up on the sofa in a pile of blankets, and bears him no notice.

"Are you sure you don't want Hermione to come?" whispers Neville as he passes through the door.

"Positive," says Ron once the door shuts behind him.

Seamus pops in a few moments later. "Is this meeting about me? Did I do something?"

"Nope," says Ron.

Another knock at the door reveals Harry, closely followed by his sister.

"Hey!" says Harry.

"Hi… erm...Ginny?"

"Hey, brother," she greets him smiling, plopping down on his bed next to Neville.

"What are you doing here?"

"Just hanging out," she shrugs.

"Did Hermoine invite you? You weren't watching movies with her."

"No. Harry invited me."

Ron shoots a confused glance at Harry, who's pointedly looking away. "Harry has your number?"

Harry shrugs and glances down while Ginny brushes the subject aside.

"What's the point of this meeting?" asks Ginny.

Ron scowls at the group. Harry and Ginny hang out? Since when? "You don't have to be here since you don't even li—"

"What exactly are we discussing at this 'loft meeting'?" asks Seamus, cutting him off.

A few Dorito chips escape Seamus's mouth at his question. Ron resists pointing it out to him for fear of undermining his own complaint. "Okay, listen. Have you noticed how clean this place is?"

"Yeah, it's awesome," says Neville.

"Seriously," says Harry, nodding in agreement. "The fridge doesn't smell bad anymore."

"I agree. What's the problem with that?" asks Seamus, squinting toward his closed door, from which they can hear the muffled dialogue of Hermione's movie.

Groaning, Ron opens his closet door and gestures to the neatly folded rainbow of underwear. "That's the problem."

Seamus laughs. "Hermione did your laundry?"

"Yes," growls Ron. "Can you believe it?"

"What I can't believe is that you're upset about it. I wish she'd do mine!"

"Of course I'm upset. She went through my clothes!"

"Don't be!" laughs Seamus. "This is the closest you've gotten to a girl touching your boxers in what, months?"

"Shut up," groans Ron. "She didn't do any of yours?"

Ron glances back at his roommates; they are all shaking their heads no. "We don't let our laundry sit for days on end. Not like you," mutters Harry.

"You think she's just picking on me because I'm the loft slob?"

"Well…yeah," says Seamus, while Harry shrugs.

"Ron, it's not that big of a deal. She's upset, and cleaning is a good distraction for her," interjects Neville.

"Plus, she still doesn't have all her stuff back," says Ginny. "She doesn't have her own things to clean."

"Her stuff is at her ex's?" asks Ron. It would make sense — she has been wearing the same pair of sweatpants around the house since moving in.

Ginny nods.

"If she needs clothes, I could let her peruse my lost and found drawer," says Seamus. "I have a drawer for leftover clothes from women I— ."

"Yeah, we know. You talk about it all the time," interrupts Ron. "Also, jar."

Seamus chuckles.

"Maybe if she gets her stuff back, she won't touch mine."

"She already tried," says Ginny. "Why do you think she's been a mess for the last twenty-four hours?" She gestures toward the living room, drawing everyone's attention to the sound of drama brewing onscreen, as a heated argument between scorned lovers fills the silence.

"She went there?"

Ginny nods.

"And it didn't work?"

"All I know is she left empty-handed and crying. Cormac has a way of doing that to her."

"Can you… encourage her to go back?" asks Ron, ignoring the lump in his throat that forms at the thought of Hermione leaving that douchebag's apartment in tears. He shakes his head to dissolve the image. He can't let his pity for her get in the way of maintaining the natural order of the loft.

"She'll need more than encouragement," says Ginny.

"Then let's go with her," says Harry, eying Ginny, who smiles at his offer. "We can help!"

"No," says Ron. "I don't want to get involved."

At that moment, there's a loud crash in the living room. A few seconds of silence follow, indicating the interruption of Hermione's movie, and then she shrieks.

"Fuck," groans Ron.

They rush to the door and pour into the living room. Hermione's on her feet, clutching her blankets around her, staring at the TV. On the floor. Shattered.

"What the hell, Hermione!" shouts Ron. The tone of his own voice makes his own hair stand on end, and he'd hate to be on the receiving end. "What the fuck did you do?"

"I...I threw the remote at the TV, and it knocked it off the stand. I'm so sorry!"

"Why?"

"Because Bradley Cooper was about to cheat on his wife with Scarlett Johannsen, and it made me angry. I just reacted."

"It's a MOVIE, Hermione! It's not real!" screams Ron.

"It's real for me," she says back, her eyes watering with tears.

"You owe us another TV," says Ron. He glances at his roommates, hoping for backup, but they all just stand there motionless, gawking at the scene before them.

"I can replace it!" she says. "I swear, I have another TV. I'll go get it!"

"At your ex's?"

"Yes," she says, her voice breaking like she's about to cry again.

Ron addresses his roommates. "We're going now."

Hermione looks unsure. "I… I can't."

Ginny approaches her. "You can. You just need some courage."

"When it comes to Cormac, I don't have that."

Ginny pulls out a flask from her pocket. "Now you do. Drink this."

"What is it," asks Hermione, sniffing it and wincing. "I'm not a big drinker…"

"Liquid courage. Drink it, and let's go."

x

They take two cars to Cormac's apartment, assuring that they'll have enough room to haul back Hermione's belongings and that Ron doesn't have to drive with her. He doesn't think he'd be able to resist yelling at her again.

Ron, Neville and Seamus pull up behind Harry's pickup truck and watch as Hermione exits, takes a deep breath, and scuttles to the front door of a modest duplex. A few empty beer bottles are scattered around the two lawn chairs in the front yard, and there's a small garden that looks like it stopped being maintained about a week ago. Hermione knocks and waits. Ron catches his foot tapping impatiently, and his frustration grows at Cormac's slow response to her knock.

When Cormac finally opens the door, Ron lets out a big exhale. His ears burn with the realization that he was holding his breath. Seamus sends him a knowing smile.

The boys watch as Hermione starts to argue with the tall, sandy-haired man at the door. He'd be quite intimidating if he wasn't wearing a bright green hat featuring the logo from the Broadway musical Wicked. His impeccable taste in musicals only makes Ron hate him more.

"That's her ex?" asks Seamus. "The dude has muscles."

Ron ignores the wave of insecurity Seamus' comment ignites.

"His yard plants look awful," adds Neville. "He should take better care of his ferns."

Leave it to Neville to notice someone's plant maintenance, but Ron latches on to his criticism anyway. "Yeah, he really should water those."

They watch their argument until Cormac opens his arms in invitation.

"Don't do it, Hermione," says Neville.

Yeah. Don't do it, Hermione.

Hermione collapses into Cormac's open arms, and he engulfs her in a hug, running a comforting hand down her back. Ron feels sick at the sight and looks away — it must just be disappointment at the thought of Hermione not getting her television...nothing more.

"What the hell?" says Seamus. "He's like her kryptonite."

Cormac and Hermione sway on the spot and then freeze. Hermione appears to stiffen in his arms before pushing him away and pointing at the dying ferns. "You were supposed to water these!" she yells, loud enough that the boys can hear her.

"Well, I'm not really a plant guy!" says Cormac. "And neither is Romilda!"

At the sound of Cormac's new girlfriend's name, Hermione reaches for the potted fern on the porch and lifts it overhead.

"What are you— argh!" shrieks Cormac as Hermione dumps the pot on top of him, showering him with soil before slamming the pot onto the concrete where it shatters. "What the fuck, Hermione!"

"Oh shit!" says Seamus. "Don't mess with Granger."

"That was scary," says Ron before he can stop himself. "Brilliant, but scary."

The door to Harry's pickup opens, and Ginny exits, slamming it behind her and sauntering across the lawn. "I'm going to get your stuff, Hermione," she calls, before swiping past a stunned Cormac into the house.

Harry follows and motions toward Ron to help.

"Let's go," says Ron, opening his car door.

Ron makes sure to knock into Cormac's sturdy shoulder on his way through the door, and waits until he's out of sight to rub it. He really does have muscles, he thinks to himself. His insecurity bubbles back up at the thought.

Ron finds Hermione stumbling down the stairs carrying a pile of clothing. The alcohol Ginny gave her must be taking effect because she loses her balance and nearly trips, just barely catching herself on the bannister. Her clothes tumble from her arms and onto the stairs. On instinct, Ron drops to the floor to help her.

"Ron, no!"

It's too late. Ron is already on his hands and knees gathering her belongings into his arms. He blushes when he realizes he's holding a pile of her bras and underwear.`

"Erm, sorry," he says, handing the pile back to her. Her cheeks are rosy, spurring Ron's guilt for making her feel awkward. Not that he has any reason to feel guilty for simply touching her underwear — Hermione touched his, after all.

Ron clears his throat. "I'll just… help my sister with your other stuff," he says, passing her on his way up the stairs.

"Sounds good," she says awkwardly, and the two part ways.

x

Half an hour later, both cars are filled to the brim with all of Hermione's belongings, except for one: her television.

Cormac is guarding the monitor with his life, clutching it with his ham-like hands while Seamus tries to tug it free. The boys managed to move it out to the lawn, but now Cormac is putting up a fight.

"You can't take this!" he yells.

"Give it up, Cormac!" says Hermione, her arms folded.

"Yeah, dude, it's not even yours!" says Seamus.

Ron approaches the two to help Seamus try to pull it from Cormac's grip.

"Who the fuck are you, anyway," asks Cormac.

Ron opens his mouth, but Hermione beats him to it.

"These are my roommates, and I love them!" Her words slur together.

"You… what?" asks Cormac. His surprise causes his grip to loosen just enough for Ron and Seamus to slide it from him. "Are you drunk?"

"I love them so much!" she yells, which adequately answers Cormac's question.

"Maybe cut back on the 'love' talk, Hermione," says Ron, his stomach churning with discomfort.

Hermione ignores him and addresses Cormac. "I love them, and I hate you!"

Discomfort aside, Ron can't help but chuckle at her passion.

"She's a lightweight. Noted," adds Ginny, mostly to a grinning Harry.

"Now I'm taking my TV!"

"No!" says Cormac. "You never even use it!"

"I paid for it!"

"We can work out an arrangement," he pleads.

"Bro, she's taking the TV," says Ron, as he and Seamus haul it into his car.

"One more thing," says Hermione. "That's my hat!" She points at Cormac's Wicked cap.

"No, this is Romilda's," he says. "She loves musicals."

"No, it isn't! I love musicals!"

Ron watches with wide eyes as Hermione opens the door to his car and sticks her hand into a box. She pulls out half a dozen hats, all featuring a different Broadway musical.

Cormac crosses his arms, standing his ground. "Will you just get out of here now?"

He looks ridiculous trying to intimidate in his Wicked hat, and two can play that game. Ron reaches into the box for a second hat and plops it on his head. He's excited to see that he selected Les Miserables memorabilia. "Give her the hat back, and she'll leave," says Ron, crossing his arms to mimic Cormac.

Neville reaches for a Cats hat and sticks it on his head. "Yeah. Give it back."

Harry fishes out more hats — Rent for himself, Annie for Ginny, and Fiddler On The Roof for Seamus — and the three pull them over their heads, cross their arms, and stare Cormac down.

"No," says Cormac.

Ron exchanges a glance with his roommates, who nod in understanding. "One, two, three!"

Seamus, Ron, and Harry rush to tackle Cormac to the ground. He's caught off guard, and stumbles back before collapsing, and the boys are able to pin him down as he struggles. Neville swipes the hat from his head.

"Get in the car, quick!" says Ron, holding Cormac down for everyone to get a head start. Feeling a sense of pride at tackling the guy, Ron roughly pushes himself off and sprints to his car door, slamming it shut and turning over his engine before Cormac's even able to scramble to his feet.

"Wooo!" says Ron. "That was awesome!"

He expects a response from Neville or Seamus but is greeted with silence instead. Ron glances to the passenger seat to find that he's sharing the car with only one person: Hermione.

"Oh, Hermione," he stumbles, immediately feeling awkward at her presence. "Where's everyone else?"

"Harry's car had more room," she says.

"Gotcha."

They continue in awkward silence for a few moments before Hermione speaks up again. "Thank you for helping. You didn't have to do that."

"Yeah, well… now that you have your things back, you don't have to touch mine anymore," says Ron, "especially not my underwear."

Hermione laughs. "Well, something good came from me touching your underwear."

"What's that?"

"Now I know you're also a Broadway fan."

Wincing, Ron recalls his collection of Broadway musical-themed boxers at the bottom of his drawer. He wasn't sure if she was planning on bringing it up, but it might just be the only common ground between them.

As it turns out, he's also wearing his Hamilton briefs, but Hermione doesn't need to know that. She'd probably think they clash with his Wicked cap.

"Don't tell the guys," he says cautiously, knowing he can no longer deny his guilty pleasure." Erm...maybe we could watch a musical sometime?"

"I'd love that!" she smiles.

Ron smiles back. Maybe she isn't so bad.

"Does this mean we're friends?" she asks.

Ron laughs. "No. We're still just roommates." It's going to take a lot more than a shared interest in musicals for them to be friends.

Hermione nods. "I'll keep trying for friends, but I can live with roommates for now."

"Let me clarify. Roommates who don't touch each others' underwear," he says. "Deal?"

"Roommates who don't touch each other's underwear. Deal," she confirms with a small smile before turning her focus back to the road.

The phrase doesn't exactly roll off the tongue, and he can't prevent the memory of Hermione's bra in his hands surfacing. He stares intently at the street, and hopes she doesn't notice the blush creeping back up his neck — he wouldn't want to give her the wrong idea.

From the corner of his eye, he can see her face flushing too. Ron's heart flutters before logic takes over. Maybe she's thinking the exact same thing as him — hoping he doesn't notice her blush, so as to prevent him from assuming she's attracted to him, or something.

If so, it's a good thing they're on the same page. Roommates who don't touch each other's underwear.

[dragonrajafanfiction]

Yamata-No-Orochi (End) Wild Things of the Light King’s Blood

Why is this series called Yamata-No-Orochi? Because the Yamata-No-Orochi is a serpent that holds the body of the White King. Why this is significant will be clear in the end. Please stay tuned. @rurifangirl by request

The old train continued its leisurely pace towards the city lights of Tokyo in the pouring rain. In the dark and the torrential downpour, one could easily imagine it was a ghost car. In a way, it was a ghost car, because the only passengers on board were two women who shouldn’t exist in the world.

One, a raven haired beauty from Russia who should have died 20 years ago in a bombing and the other, a red haired beauty from Japan who should have been a deadpool by now and until a few days ago was forbidden to see the sun.

The fiery haired girl cried quietly into the back of the head of her giant teddy bear while you, the black haired Russian, rubbed her back and whispered softly for her to let it all out. For now, you two were all you had for company. 

“Hey,” you say, “I know it seems like the end, but that man loves you.”

She looks up at you with wide red pupils and then scribbles something on the pad. “But my family doesn’t like him. I’ll never see him again.”

You gently tilt her head up, placing your fingertips under her little chin. “Remember what we said? Good friends are a little crazy. Don’t let things like family make you stop believing in your good friends, Erii.”

Even though you were younger than Erii by 3 years, she already looked up to you as an older woman and nodded obediently.

“I want to be more than your good friend though.” You roll up your shirt under your bra and show her the mottling of golden scales that had started to appear since last night. “We share the blood of the White King and a common sickness. I want to be your sister.”

Her eyes expanded. She scribbled down. “I’ve always wanted a sister!”

“Did you wish for one over the sea? Because this dream has come true. Hm…” You hum to yourself. “Let’s make it official in a vow of sisterhood.”

She sat up straight, her expression serious.

You place your hand over your heart. “I, MC, hereby vow to be the Sister of Erii Uesugi. We are bound by blood and by love. We will never betray each other. We will always defend each other. And when one calls for help, we will dash to their rescue and if anyone comes between us, may they die!”

Erii scribbled down in her notebook those same words and then she signed her name, and you signed yours. 

You continued to make up this silly ritual. “Now, put your hand against my hand, sister.”

Your palms met. 

“Twine your fingers.”

You clasp your hands together. Once she bought into it. You reach across with your other hand and goose her ribs!

Erii squealed and then clapped her hand over her mouth in terror! But you didn’t break your smile. You only giggled. “Sisters do things like this.” You say.

Her face was red with fear but also a bit of indignation, but underneath it all was joyous warmth. “I will find a way to trick you too!”

You sit back. “Sister, I want to ask you something. How is it that you can live so long? Your physical condition is not good. I felt it when I touched you. You have so many more scales than me.”

She scribbled down for a long time before turning the page to you. “I live because of the serum injections. The injections contain fetal blood of deadpool. Because the blood is embryonic, it has a purifying and not corrupting effect.”

“Hm…” That’s why deadpool spawning tanks were under Genji Heavy Industries. They were being bred and the blood of the fetuses were being injected into Erii. “Thank you.”

“If you come with me, I will convince my brother to treat you.” She writes.

You place your hand over hers. “Don’t worry for me. I have time. I already have a man who has guaranteed my safety.”

Erii’s mouth made a little ‘o’.

“I need to return to him. So I will get off the train early. Please rest and get better so I can take you dog sledding.”

The train made its meandering track towards Tokyo. You were one stop before Matsuyama station, however, the train started to slow. It was far too late to be picking up passengers.

Erii had fallen asleep in your arms and you tilted her head away from you and reached for your deadpool claw dagger. A man in a long cloak stepped onto the train. When his foot landed at the door, the entire car tilted as though he weighed thousands of pounds! The rainwater was rising off him in a steaming cloud and when he breathed, he hissed like a steam engine.

You give Erii one last glance and decide it was not time to be subtle or afraid. You would simply disappear with this monster. You rush forward, as fast as a pouncing lioness! The deadpool under the cloak surged with blue light, lifting its cloak and revealing its dinosaur clawed feet, and its blue-black scaled body. It arced its back and opened its mouth to roar, but you throw the dagger into its throat to silence it and then take a flying leap and kick it out of the train car. 

You both land hard on the platform and you snatch your dagger out from the back of its throat and land in a crouch to face it.

The beast chokes black blood a moment, lying on its back under the platform lights and then flips completely onto all fours in a single motion! 

You leap backwards and it lands where you were, cracking the concrete beneath.

The train rumbles off to continue its journey to Tokyo the Matsuyama Station, while you lure the beast away from the car. It was an open air station with several spaces for busses. But the busses were no longer running. There wasn’t much cover and the streets were empty of people.

From your lesson in Genji, you understood that the nervous center is the weak point. But this beast came armed with vertebral spines to protect that sensitive area. 

A strange whistling noise comes from above and you leap to one side. A dark shape pierces the ground where you stood and then lifts, carrying bits  of concrete with it. The shape moved like a loose cable, waving in the air to toss aside the rubble. Then it descends! You throw yourself back, narrowly escaping being impaled! It whips and the tip slashes side to side, nearly taking your head off and tearing into your T-shirt.

The deadpool was crouching low, a distance away, but a long tail, twice as long as the length of its body, was waving. A single muscle twitch sends the barbed sword-like tail tip into the ground with stunning accuracy! 

You nod once and start backing up. The beast spider-walks toward you and the tail lashes out! You leap up and the sword tail slices clear through a street lamp behind you. The lamp crashes down towards the monster and shatters. Even though the lamp missed, it was enough distraction to let you get inside its tail range. You run directly towards it. Its mouth opens to reveal six inch long sharp teeth and it lifts a hand full of daggers.

Your movements are delicate and precise, threading the needle between the deadly bite and the deadly piercing hooks to plunge your dagger into the side of its neck and draw down, slicing through its throat, but you hit only muscle. The neck itself was armored! Now that you were inside, however, you would not back away. You leap to the other side, committing little non-lethal cuts to its back that wouldn’t hurt at all, trying to find an opening through the bony plates. The beast chases you in a tight circle, spinning in the street. You can see the serrations on its teeth. The thin lines of saliva in its mouth. You breathe in its foul breath.

You have taken hold of one of its dorsal spines nearest the back of its head. So the faster it turns, the faster you turn, like a dog chasing its tail. You pierce it again and again until the spine starts to lift off its back.

Then you mount it, its blood soaking between your legs and you stab downward, looking for the spine. Frustrated and in agony, the beast rears up, lifting you nearly 10 feet in the air in an instant, screaming, tail waving. You scramble to hold on and not get thrown by the momentum. Your eyes widen as you hear that deadly whistle and you let go and crash to the ground hard.

You sit up and the beast is standing upright, mouth open in shock, the barbed tip of its own tail protruding through the back of its own head! You were like an annoying fly that landed on its head and it killed itself in its attempt to swat you. It falls forward so hard that cracks appear in the ground where it lands.

You sit wondering. You were someone who was adept at using the God’s Eyes fighting technique, but this time you surprised yourself.

Screeching tires heralded a roaring black sedan as it careered around the corner. The window was down and a long rifle emerged from it! You turned and scrambled to your feet. The bullet shattered against the wall of a building, blowing dust and stinging bits of masonry into your face. Your eyes scan for cover but there is none sufficient to shield you. That bullet was big enough to completely shatter your skull!

Your heart leaps at the sight of a tall figure in the dark who was suddenly illuminated by headlights. He was dressed in period clothing, a long red Kimono with flowing ornamental embroidery of Lycoris Radiata.  He pulled a red sheath from his sleeve as you ran toward him, gasping in desperation. As soon as he pulled the sword from its sheath, a great wind gust blew by you.

The black sedan collides with that wind and bursts apart, shattering as if it hit a concrete barrier head on. 

Ruri Kazama holds the bright silver blade aloft and you duck behind him, and then he brings it down hard. Another blade like wind slices the car clean in half. 

“How did you know I was here?” You gasp.

“There was a report of a deadpool. I may not be a member of Hydra or of Cassell, but all Hybrid species have an obligation to clear these beasts. I’ll let my brother’s men take care of the rest of this mess. Come, we need to hide.” When he gathers you against the silk of his cloak you can smell the scent of tobacco.

Hand in hand, you run through the heavy rain to a waiting car. As soon as you’re inside, it peels off into the night, driving full speed and crashing through the deep street flooding. “Ruri Kazama. I gave you all my star-hearts.”

“I know. I’ve been looking for you, but you disappeared.”

You look up into his dark eyes. They were serious as they scanned you for injuries. You quickly gasp and cover your torn shirt with your arms. “I want to join you to help you defeat Herzog. Caesar and Chu Zihang cannot bear my presence any longer. They fear I might lose control. Caesar says I’m better with my own kind.”

Ruri turns away from you. “Then you care nothing for me?”

You gasp hurriedly. “That’s not it at all. It turns out you were right. I am a perishing flower. I just didn’t know anything. But… I’m not giving up. I don’t think my death is inevitable. And I won’t throw my life away for anyone. I don’t want you to either.”

He stares down at you and you realize that he is older than you but not by much. He is older in spirit. Looking up at him was like looking at an ancient dragon. His long black hair frames his gentle boyish face and again your eyes blur the line between man and woman.

“If you will have me, I’ll be yours.” You say. “Only, you must fight to live and not to die. You must not die for me. That is not noble. It's terrible! I don’t care what anyone else says. Understand?” You look into those eyes and you’re again reminded of an impossibly deep pool where  you couldn’t ever see the bottom. His eyes were like the lake of Baikal that reached down, deep and cold into the center of the Earth’s crust.

He was silent. You feel like you’re stepping out of bounds, but you have to have this promise. This was nothing like the touching moment between you and Chance. You feel like your spilling your guts in a hurry, rushing through the vows on your wedding day. “Don’t throw your life away. Not for me. Not for anyone. Are you listening? If death comes, it comes but don’t you give yourself to it. Don’t! Find another way out. Or fight.”

His silence sent cracks up and down your fragile heart and then you remembered that you couldn’t accept this either at first. It took three times before you stopped seeking death.

Much to your shock, you return to the Takamagahara Night Club. You wonder if he’s getting rid of you. You both get out of the car and he holds out an umbrella over your head and cradles your body under his arm. Together, you walk through the doors. “You live here right? The other aces have not returned yet. Bathe and dress and meet me behind the bar.”

One of the waiters offers you a large jacket over your shivering shoulders.

His eyes are still serious and deep, but they had softened looking at you. “I accept your proposal.”

[gamergirl929]

I'm Fragile, Please Don't Break Me (USWNT x Reader)

Anonymous Request: A USWNT oneshot when the baby r comes from a bad background and was verbally abused and she messes up one day in a game or practice and the team is kinda mad at her so she just like shuts down emotionally

Mentions of past Child Abuse 

“Seriously?! Come on Y/N!”

“Yeah! You had that, how’d you mess up!?”  

“You’re better than that!”  

A cacophony of raised voice causes you to freeze, your heart seizing in your chest.  

You close your eyes, taking a deep breath as you run your hands down your face.  

You walk over to the bench, taking a seat.  

Focus on your five senses.  

You could feel the cool bench’s metal beneath your fingers.  

Taste the salty sweat that hard run down your face and onto your lips.  

You could smell the freshly cut grass, ducking your head to smell the stench of over exertion on your shirt.  

You can hear the sound of a car in the distance revving its engine, and as your eyes flutter open, even through the unshed tears you can see your laced cleats, your laces a bright neon green.  

Thankfully, for you, practice ends moments later and you’re off the bench and heading straight for the bus, scrambling to shove your headphones into your ears.  

Luckily for you, everyone bypasses your seat silently, but you can see some of them worriedly glancing your way as they pass.  

The bus ride fortunately for you, is a short one and when the bus stops, you’re the first off, heading straight to the elevator that carries you upstairs and into the room you share with Mallory Pugh.  

                                                           ***

“We were too hard on her.” Kelley frowns, noting the look of sadness in your eyes as you passed her on the bus.  

“We yelled more than we should have...” Julie says sadly and Megan sighs.  

“We just want her to be the best.”  

Alex shakes her head.  

“We were still way too hard on her...”  

Emily shrugs.  

“Let’s make it up to her.”  

                                                           ***

The shower you were hoping would help didn’t help at all, so here you were, curled up under your blankets in the hopes of shutting the world out, but it could in no way shut the ever present voice in your head, the voice of your father and mother.  

You messed up because you mess everything up.  

You’re a screw up, you’ll never amount to anything.  

You swallow hard, covering your ears.  

“Shut up, just please shut up.” You whisper, but it’s to no avail, how can you silence the voices inside your head?

You hear the door to your room open and you freeze, clenching your teeth, hoping against hope that if it was Mallory, she’d just get what she was coming to get and leave.  

Of course, you didn’t have such luck.  

“Y/N... Come downstairs, you need to eat something I know you’re hungry...” You feel the bed dip and you stiffen.  

“I’m not hungry.” You rasp, voice raw from sobbing.

Your stomach decides it’s time to protest your choice, growling loudly and your shake your head.  

“I’m not going to dinner, just leave me alone.” You bury your face in your pillow, eyes stinging as more tears stain the pillow beneath you.  

“Please Y/N...” Mal touches you and you pull back, sitting up abruptly, your red rimmed eyes locking with Mallory’s brown orbs.  

“Just go, please...” You hunch over, letting out a broken sob. “Please go.”  

Mallory shakes her head, ready to plea for you to reconsider, but her mouth snaps shut, knowing that she can’t get through to you.  

But maybe she knows some women who can.  

                                                           ***

The door again opens and you cringe.  

You had hoped that Mallory had gotten the message, but at the sound of multiple footsteps, you knew she had instead, armed herself with back up.  

You feel the bed dip, and dip, and dip again, curling in on yourself away from your worried teammates.  

“Y/N, we’re sorry for what happened today...” Kelley says sadly and you feel your throat tighten.  

“We just want what’s best for you...” Megan places a hand on your back and you shy away from her touch.  

The woman frowns sadly, glancing away from the lump in the bed, that is until you start to shake.  

Alex pulls the bedding back to reveal your shaking form, your eyes blood red as you rock back and forth, your arms wrapped around your knees, bringing them to your chest.  

“Shhhh...” She coos, opening her arms. You immediately throw yourself into them, burying your face in the forward’s chest, sobbing your heart out.  

Your teammates watch with tears in their eyes, all shuffling closer so they’re surrounding you, their arms all wrapping around one another, with you and Alex in the middle.  

“We’ve got you.” Christen whispers as she kisses your temple and you let out a sob.  

“It’s just... They used to yell at me, and when you yelled at me I could...” You pause, swallowing hard and inhaling deeply in an attempt to catch your breath, but it’s then you realize you can’t, you can’t catch your breath.  

“You’re having a panic attack sweetie, look at me.” Ali turns you towards her pulling you against her chest.  

“Match my breathing, okay?” She whispers calmly and you close your eyes focusing on the rise and fall of her chest.  

By the time you catch your breath, you’re covered in a thin sheen of sweat, your teammate’s watching you with worried, tear-filled eyes.  

“I’m sorry...” You whisper into Ali’s chest and she shakes her head.  

“You don’t have to be sweetie.” She leans down, kissing the back of your head.  

The room is silent for a moment before Mallory places a gentle hand on your shoulder.  

“Y/N...?” She whispers and you swallow hard, picking your head up to look into her brown orbs.  

“Who used to yell at you?” She asks, cupping one of your cheeks, wiping a lone tear sliding down your cheek.  

“My...” You pause, closing your eyes tight as you lean into the woman’s touch. “My... My parents.”  

Your teammates frown sadly, some, like Kelley scowling angrily at the thought of anyone treating you poorly.  

“They, they took everything out on me... Everything that went wrong...”

Mallory wraps her arms around you and you bury your nose in her neck.  

“Everything was always my fault. They told me I was nothing, would always be nothing...” You cry and Mallory slams her eyes shut, tears slipping down her own cheeks.  

“Well, they’re fucking wrong.” You hear a snarl and pick your head up, turning to see Kelley’s lip curled in a snarl, Ashlyn looking equally as pissed as well as a few other of your teammates.  

“I wish they were here I’d beat the shit out of them.” Emily growls and your eyes widen.  

Alex cups your cheeks and you swallow hard.  

“We love you Y/N, and we never meant to upset you.” She whispers, leaning forward to kiss your forehead.  

“We love you so much, we never meant to hurt you... We just, we push you because we want you to be your best.” Julie says as she runs her fingers through your hair and your bottom lip trembles.  

“We can’t promise we won’t yell...” Tobin says as she leans down, kissing the top of your head. “But we won’t yell at you, unless you’re like Sonnett and never pay attention.”  

“What’s that supposed to mean!?” The blonde exclaims and the women start bickering.  

You chuckle, watching as the two women playfully wrestle one another.  

The ache in your heart ebbs away as you glance around the room.  

Every one of them are there, every one of your teammates, they’re there for you. 

They’re there because they love you and they care, and you know, they could never be anything like your parents were, they’d already showed you more love than your parents ever had.  

“I love you guys.” You whisper softly and everyone turns to you, Sonnett and Tobin ceasing their playful battle.  

“We love you too.” Christen wraps her arms around you from behind, your teammates again surrounding you, their arms wrapped around one another.  

“And we’re sorry.” Megan kisses your forehead and you smile.  

“I know you are... I know and I forgive you.”  

Your teammates all grin, it’s then you realize that Sonnett had again started wrestling with Tobin the two women drawing the attention of the women around you.  

They weren’t perfect, but they were your teammates, your family and you wouldn’t trade them for anything in the world.  

[freddiesaysalright]

Part of Your World - Chapter 4

Ben!Prince Eric x Mermaid!Reader

Summary: Prince Ben is trying to escape an arranged marriage. A young mermaid wants to escape the sea. Their paths cross and they may just be what the other is looking for.

Word Count: 3.5k

Tag List: @psychosupernatural​, @someone-get-a-medic​, @bensrhapsody​, @deakyclicks​, @crazylittlethingcalledobsession​, @minigranger​, @crazyweirdocalledfriday​, @the-moving-finger-writes​, @assembledherethevolunteers​, @rose-writes-prose​, @queenlover05​, @26-7-49​, @drowsebaby​, @im-an-adult-ish​, @queen-paladin​, @rogerina-owns-me, @mirkwoodshewolf​, @seven-seas-of-ham-on-rhye​, @radiob-l-a-hblah​, @xviiarez​, @butlegendsneverdie​, @sunflower-ben​, @godblessthisgardenpigeon​ If you’d like to be added, let me know!

A/N: Some pirate-y adventures in this update!

Warning(s): Mild descriptions of violence

Moodboard

Chapter 1  Chapter 2  Chapter 3

Chapter 4 here we go!!!

Henrietta was unlike anything you would have expected. The sun was down, but the people were out about. Milling through the town with laughter and alcohol on their breath. Ben lowered his mouth to your ear.

“Stay close to me,” he whispered, and you felt his warm hand on the small of your back.

You nodded in reply. You stepped forward, following Ari and Kay to the destination that Behati had given you. She didn’t tell you who you were going to see, only that they might be able to help you remember where Sycoria was. Of course, Ben still had no idea what was going on. All he knew was that this place made him nervous. But he trusted Behati.

You nearly walked into a man stumbling across the road, but Ben yanked you back toward him. You would have shouted in surprise if you had your voice. Your heart rate quickened as you thanked him.

“Be careful,” he said gently. “Here, take my hand.”

You smiled and did so gladly. You continued to follow Ari and Kay from the harbor into the main part of town. Only, you were walking slowly to try and take in everything around you. Human homes, human shops, human clothes, and human voices were all around you. All you wanted to do was explore. But Ben had a firm grip on your hand and made you press on with the girls. 

Ari and Kay turned into an alley off the main road. The darkness between the buildings unnerved you, but a soft yellow square on the pathway ahead indicated a door. A back door to wherever it was you were going. Ari and Kay stopped in front of it, and the former rapped three times on the wood. The door did not fit properly into the entryway, which you might have found amusing if you weren’t growing more anxious by the second.

“Who goes there?” asked a raspy voice on the other side.

“Friends of Captain Behati,” Ari answered. “We come seeking wisdom.”

“Any friends of Behati’s are always welcome,” the voice replied. 

The door squeaked open. Behind it stood an older woman, her face worn and her hair graying at the roots. She had beads all through the locks, making the fade from silver to black even more colorful. Large hoop earrings dangled at the sides of her face, and she wore three necklaces of various lengths around her neck. She had one or two rings on each finger.

“Friends of Behati’s eh?” she said. “Welcome.”

Her voice was not the raspy one you’d heard at first. You looked to the left and saw a muscular man standing in the corner. You guessed he served as a guard.

“Ah, Ari,” the woman said warmly. “It’s wonderful to see you again. And I see you have found the love I spoke of last time we met.”

She looked at Kay, who blushed deeply. Ari grinned.

“I have, Calla, thank you,” she said. “I’m afraid Kay and I aren’t staying. It’s Y/N who needs a reading.”

“What sort of reading?” Calla asked.

You shrugged. Behati said you would know.

She raised an eyebrow. “Perhaps I will. Come, have a seat.”

“Ben, meet me and Kay at the tavern when you’re done,” Ari said. “It’s back down the alley the way we came and across the square.”

“Got it,” Ben said.

Ari and Kay left. Calla had you seated at a table that was covered with tapestries. On top of it, in the very center, sat a crystal ball. You were perplexed. 

“I hate to be rude, but who are you?” Ben asked.

“This is Calla, the great Seer,” said the muscley man in the corner. “Be respectful.”

“Relax, Ronan, he’s being nice,” Calla said, and then she turned to Ben. “But yes, young price, I’m a Seer.”

He blinked. “How’d you know I’m the prince?”

She looked at him with an amused smile. “How do you think I knew?”

“Seer, right,” he said. “But I thought you could just see the future.”

“Seers can tell you all sorts of things,” she replied. “Things that were, things that are, and things that are coming to you. It’s all in your lines.”

“Lines?” he questioned. 

“Every person has lines - or threads - which connect them to the people and the places they have known and will know in the future,” she explained. “We Seers can examine these lines, and bring clarity to those that need guidance.”

“Well, you learn something new every day,” he said.

She chuckled. “Certainly.”

She took a seat across from you. “Now. I wonder why Behati has sent you to me.”

You shrugged again. 

“Place your hand on the ball, child,” Calla instructed, and you did so. “Now close your eyes, and focus inward.”

You obeyed. You thought about what Behati probably wanted - Sycoria’s whereabouts. Perhaps Calla could unravel the pathway back to her lair simply through your body having been there. It was a mystery to you, but that sort of magic was not unheard of, even in the ocean.

“I see a strong bond between you and the prince,” Calla said. “It must be new.”

You nodded. Somehow, you felt her smile. 

“It is a bond based on life, and freedom, and giving,” she said. “A bond to be treasured. Although, it is blurring the rest of your lines. Ben, step out please.”

“Hold on, what about -” you heard him begin, but he was cut off by Ronan.

“She said step out,” he said. 

“I’m not leaving without Y/N,” Ben insisted.

“Stand outside the door if it makes you more comfortable,” Calla told him. “But I need more focus on Y/N.”

He huffed and you heard Ronan escort him to the door. It opened with the same rusty squeak, and snapped sharply closed.

“Now, Behati is interested only in hunting Sycoria, so you must have some connection to the sea witch, little mermaid,” Calla said.

You almost opened your eyes in shock, but refrained. She really was gifted. Your hand grew warm against the crystal as you focused more on Sycoria and the last time you saw her. You thought about the whirlpool of water that dragged you away and to the surface.

“I see!” Calla gasped. “You may open your eyes now, but keep your hand on the ball.”

You did so. Calla had one hand on the ball, and the other was holding a pen. On a piece of parchment, she was drawing. At first, it only appeared to be random lines and squiggles. It made little sense to you. But then as things took shape, you realized it was a map. She was going to take Behati right to Sycoria, thanks to your body’s memory of it. It was odd how your connection to Sycoria and to Behati was guiding the way with you hardly even knowing it.

She finished the map, laid down the pen, and opened her eyes to see the work.

“This should bring you right on top of Sycoria’s lair,” she said. “But be warned, Sycoria may not be home when you arrive. She is plotting something - regarding you and the prince - but I can’t make out what.”

Is there a way to see it through me? You wondered as you tucked the map into your inside vest pocket.

“Perhaps, but we would have to start the reading again with a new focus,” she said. “One toward the future.”

Let’s do it, you signed. I don’t want Behati to miss her chance because of me.

“Alright, then,” she said. “Let’s start again. Close your eyes and -”

You were interrupted when Ben burst through the door.

“We’ve got to go now!” he insisted. 

You gasped and looked up at him questioningly, but he didn’t give you time to ask what was going on. He just took your hand, tugged you to your feet, and raced out the door, ignoring the cry of protest from Calla. 

You heard screams coming from the town. Gunfire as well. It made you come to an abrupt halt. Ben turned to face you and took in your frightened expression.

“It’s gonna be alright,” he said assuredly. “I’m here with you. We just need to find Ari and Kay and get back to the ship.”

You nodded. When he drew his sword with his free hand, you gulped. You emerged with him into the main town square and saw absolute chaos.

Fires burned on the street and in buildings. Glass crashed around you as windows broke. People were screaming, running, and ducking into corners to hide. A clear enemy had appeared - pirates. Not the friendly kind. They chased women, struck down the men, and frightened the children. Now you understood what Behati meant about humans disappointing you. This was not at all what you thought it was like.

One came hollering toward you and Ben, sword raised over his head. Ben blocked him swiftly and kicked him in the stomach. The pirate fell to the ground. He tried to sweep Ben’s legs, but the latter was prepared and jumped back. The pirate scrambled to his feet.

“Now, pretty boy, you don’t want to start something you can’t finish,” the pirate sneered. “Leave that gorgeous creature behind you with me, and we won’t have any trouble.”

You gasped and shrunk back. 

“You want her, you’ll have to go through me,” Ben returned.

He twirled his sword in his hand before steadying it in front of him. But your stomach turned since he was no longer holding on to your hand. The pirate laughed wickedly and engaged Ben again.

They went back and forth, slashing and parrying. You had never seen such a fight. Ben was amazing to watch - graceful, careful, trained. His eyes flicked between the pirate’s feet and his arm, and from there the prince guessed what each stroke might be. The pirate was sloppier, his stance wasn’t as strong, but you guessed that was because he was drunk. You saw the flask on his hip and he reeked of rum.

Finally, Ben dodged a jab from the pirate and punched him in the jaw. He fell to the ground and lay still. Then Ben took your hand again.

“Come on!” he urged.

It was difficult to run through all the people who were also trying to escape. You and Ben both ended up getting shoved around, but still managed to hold on to each other. Walking was hard enough, but running, while being jostled by a crowd, was too much for your newfound legs to handle. You tripped on someone’s foot, and tumbled to the ground. Your hand left Ben’s and you heard him give a surprised shout.

You hit the ground hard. So hard you saw stars. As you tried pushing yourself onto your knees, there was a tug on your hair. Someone had you by your braids, and yanked you to your feet. Once again, you could smell rum and sweat.

“Aren’t you a pretty thing,” someone growled.

Your vision cleared and you saw a fearsome looking pirate. He was the sort that merpeople always warned about. Thick dark beard, gold teeth, and an eye patch. Greed glinted behind his one good eye.

You tried to jerk away from him, but his grip was too tight. Your scalp already ached. He laughed in your face when you winced. Then he grabbed you around the waist and slung you over his shoulder. You wanted to scream, but with no voice, it was impossible. You banged your fists on his wide back as hard as you could. The man only laughed again and began to walk away with you.

Ben was fighting his way back through the crowd, but it was like swimming against a strong current. He finally burst through, but saw that you were gone. He looked wildly around. Then he spotted you. Being carried away by the tallest man he had ever seen. You were struggling on his shoulder.

“Y/N!”

Your head snapped up and you saw Ben running back toward you. Your heart swelled with relief. Ben skirted around a family hurrying away from their ransacked home and then darted past the man carrying you. The prince pointed his sword directly at the kidnapper’s chest.

“Put. Her. Down,” Ben demanded. “Now.”

“Back off, boy, the girl’s mine,” the man returned. 

He slapped Ben’s sword from his hand. Ben let out a soft gasp at the man’s speed, but it was cut short when the man grabbed the prince around the throat. You beat on the man’s back harder than before, desperate to make him let Ben go. You heard him choking, fighting for breath, though you couldn’t see his face.

Ben’s vision was going blurry as he wheezed in the pirate’s grasp. The man spoke, but he couldn’t hear the words. All Ben knew was that he needed air in the next five seconds or…

Suddenly, the choking stopped. His throat was released, and he hit the ground. He sucked in a long, desperate breath, grateful beyond belief to have air. His vision returned and he looked up to see Ari and Kay in front of him. The man looked less confident now facing them.

“Release the girl, Draco,” Kay demanded.

Draco smirked, slipping back into his cocky demeanor from before.

“Well, if it isn’t Behati’s little girls,” he mocked. “Come for a tea party and dress up?”

“You know the rules,” Ari said firmly. “You can’t have the girl if she’s one of ours.”

“Damn the rules,” he returned. “We’re pirates, we do as we please.”

Ben got to his feet, retrieving his sword. He stood between Kay and Ari, brandishing his weapon with theirs.

“Oh, are you allowing boys now?” Draco continued. “Or was he just so weak you decided he’s practically a woman?”

He reached for Ben again, but this time, the prince was ready. He ducked under Draco’s arm, stepped diagonally, and slashed the pirate on the side. Draco cried out and dropped you. You hit the dirt, which knocked the wind out of you, but you preferred that to being a prisoner. You caught your breath and watched the fight that broke out. 

Draco was strong and fast, but he was still outmatched by Ben, Ari, and Kay. They worked so well together it almost seemed rehearsed. The flow between the three of them was as smooth as a dance. With just six strokes, Draco was down, and Ben was at your side.

“Are you alright?” he asked, offering his hand.

You nodded and took it. Your head still throbbed from the hair pulling and all the times you’d fallen, but you were okay. He helped you up and gave your hand a reassuring squeeze.

“How are we getting out of here?” he asked, looking at Ari and Kay.

“We fight our way out,” Kay said fiercely, flashing her dagger. 

“The ship isn’t far now,” Ari said. “There’s a shortcut to the harbor around the corner.”

“There’s so many pirates,” Ben said. “Who are they?”

“Captain Samwell Yardley,” Kay said. “He’s the cruelest pirate on the sea.”

“Why doesn’t Behati do something?” Ben wondered.

“There’s not much she can do,” Ari said. “Yardley has three ships, and a skilled crew on each. She doesn’t feel like she can challenge him.”

“Does he not take slaves?” Ben pressed. “They were trying to take Y/N.”

“They don’t take slaves or prisoners,” Ari said darkly. “They were likely taking her to the nearest bed to have their way with her and then cut her throat.”

You gulped. Ben scowled. 

“That’s horrible,” he said. “I can’t believe the Royal Navy hasn’t caught him.”

“They’ve certainly tried,” Kay said. “But he’s fast and smart.”

You tapped Ben on the shoulder and he looked at you.

This is really horrible, you signed. But if we’re going to survive this raid, we need to get going. And fast!

“I agree,” he said. He looked at the other two. “She said we need to go.”

“And we do,” Ari said. “Come on, follow me. And keep your weapons up. Swing at any pirate you see. Y/N, do NOT let go of Ben.”

You nodded. All of you took off, jogging close to the buildings so you wouldn’t be taken by surprise. Ari slipped into the next alley, and you followed. Thankfully, there were no pirates in there, only Henrietta citizens taking shelter. You saw something in Ben’s face shift. It was a combination of pity and anger. It was touching to see he was so sympathetic, but you worried it was getting to him too much.

You came out of the alley within sight of the harbor. The four of you dashed ahead, sprinting for the ship. You were more tired than after you’d rescued Ben, but you had to keep pushing. You all skidded to a stop when another pirate emerged from the shadows, blocking the path to the harbor.

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t Behati’s dolls,” he said. 

“We’re leaving,” Ari said. “Get out of our way, and we won’t hurt you.”

“I’m not scared of a little group of girls,” he returned.

He began to raise his sword, but Kay was faster. She whipped out her pistol and shot the man on his left side. He doubled over and none of you waited to see what happened next. You hurtled forward, making a final break for your shelter. The ship grew as you got closer, and thankfully, you were not met with another challenge.

You reached the dock and your lungs were burning with how hard you were breathing. Your hand was still in Ben’s as the four of you raced up to board the ship again. Behati was already out on deck, pacing while the other members of the crew sat anxiously around her. They all whipped around when they heard you all thundering up the plank. 

“You’re alive!” she cried with relief. “Thank goodness! I had no idea Yardley would be showing up tonight. If I did, I’d never have sent you in there.”

Ben dropped your hand. You sent him a concerned look, but before he could see it, Behati’s arms were around you. 

“Did you find out how to reach Sycoria?” she whispered in your ear.

You nodded. She kissed your cheek and then went to Ben. She reached out for him, but he shrugged her off. His whole demeanor had changed.

“Don’t touch me,” he said irritably. 

Behati’s brow furrowed. ���What’s the matter? Are you hurt?”

“No, I’m not hurt,” he snapped. “But that doesn’t help the people of Henrietta, does it?”

Ari sheathed her sword. “Ben, there were only four of us. Even if we had the whole crew, we’d still be outnumbered by Yardley’s men.”

“But it shouldn’t be up to you!” he cried, throwing his sword down. It clattered against the deck, making your jump. “I’m the prince! It’s my family’s job to protect the people, and we don’t even know half the reality of what the people go through!”

He took a moment and inhaled deeply. 

“Where was the Royal Navy tonight, huh?” he shouted. “The Guard? Anyone who has a sworn duty to the people? God, we don’t even know about slavers in our own bay! The king’s too busy picking up princesses to notice the atrocities that affect our people!” 

He kicked his sword now and it skidded away.  

“Ben,” Behati said calmly. “It’s been this way for decades. The people don’t expect -”

“They should expect it!” he yelled. “They should expect the people who govern them to protect them! Instead we’re locked away in our palace arranging weddings and hosting balls, without any regard for what’s happening right under our noses! It’s despicable!”

He stalked off. The crew parted to make a path for him as he went below deck to his hammock. You listened to him stomp the whole way there.

“Princes, always so touchy,” Behati said.

He’s not wrong, you signed. He feels responsible for the ignorance of his father.

“Why don’t you try talking to him, Y/N?” she suggested. “Tell me about your reading later. He needs you more.”

You looked through the door where he had disappeared. 

No, signed. I’ll let him have space for now. 

“Probably wise,” she said. “Well, then. Come with me to my room and tell me what you learned from Calla.”

You followed her to her quarters to relay everything the psychic told you. You left out the part about Sycoria having some plan regarding you and Ben. It would only make things confusing. When you showed her the map, her eyes flashed with glee.

“This changes everything,” she said. “I’ll tell the girls to set a course right now. Thank you, Y/N.”

She put a hand on your shoulder and left to give the crew the instructions. You remained behind and tried to think of anything you could say to Ben. Humans had definitely disappointed you tonight, but Ben was disappointed in himself. And you had no idea how to comfort him.

[missallsundaes]

And allow me to ask about your selfships in flowers now, iris and zinnia

Both of these have a little bit diff answers to the rest.

Iris - Does your self insert for your f/os source material have a detailed and complex story and character arc, or are they just kind of vibing?

EVENTUALLY I will need to do a self ship post I can link too, because I have a different self insert for each of my top threes. The SIMPLE answer is they all have detailed backstories. The detailed answer I'll put under a cut at the bottom of this post.

Zinnia - how often do you think about your f/o? Do they live in your head rent free, or do you not think about them for months on end before suddenly hyperfixating on them nonstop for a week?

; w ; I feel like you've seen my blog, I never stop thinking about my boys. Sanji and Corazon occupy the most of my brain, but if I see Buggy I get emotional over him too.

OKAY SO HERE I GO about my self inserts. All three are me in personality, interests, and talents. All three have pink hair and green eyes, and glasses.

My s/i Ace x Sanji is an art historian from the South Blue.

They were traveling on a ship that was transporting priceless paintings from one island to another for an exhibition, when the ship was attacked by pirates after the artwork to sell for the Beri it would get them. They were one of only a couple of survivors of this attack, getting away on a scrap of wood that was floating that they managed to scramble on top of. They were rescued by the Straw Hats. This fits in canon timeline between Little Garden and Drum. They fall for Sanji very quickly, despite his bad habits, infatuated with his flirty nature and constant compliments. Despite Nami's warnings that he was like that with "all women," after they come out as nonbinary to Sanji during a heart to heart, he still treats them with the love and affection that made them fall for him. They bond while cooking together, taste testing each other's food and experimenting with new recipes at dinner for the crew. Make quick best friends with Usopp over mutual loves for drawing, plants, bugs, and being snipers. (They are trained in archery.) Jinbei reminds them of their late father, and they quickly get very attracted to the Fishman, looking up to him and asking him for guidance often. Other best friend is Robin, they bond over art history and how it related to archeology, she helps teach them to read poneglyphs so they can help her. [[Sometimes trio ship with Usopp bc I also love Usopp and Sanuso is my otp]]

My s/i Ace x Corazon is a Selkie from the North Blue. This OC is Canon Divergent

Info on Selkies (mostly based on Real World Mythos, but some tweaking done for OP Universe)

Legends Say that a man who finds a selkie for a wife are blessed with a beautiful obedient wife. At least that’s the human version of the tale. In the selkie world, it is a warning, a cautionary tale: never be caught by a human man, lest you have your coat stolen and never return to the sea. Selkies are generally only found in the farthest north points of the North Blue, where seals are abundant. True to legends, Selkies can shift between human and seal form with the use of their coats or seal skins. Selkies are thought to be rarer than mermaids, but due to the nature of their transformation, true numbers are unknown outside the community. When a selkie has her skin stolen she has a compulsion to marry the person who stole it, usually with discomfort to the selkie. If her coat is willingly given to a man, it must be willingly given back. Selkies sometimes bare children to the man they marry, but when they find the hiding place of their coat they will abandon these children to return to the sea. Some legends say that these children are sometimes visited or saved by large seals later in their lives. When selkies first transform, their coat is the clothes they are wearing, so they are naked until clothed in the human fashion.

My self insert specifically!

In seal form, they are a harp seal, dusty grey with dark spots. In human form they have long dusty pink hair and deep dark green eyes, large like a seals. Their coat takes the form of a fluffy winter coat, with the same colors as their seal skin. When they are wearing their coat, it works similar to a zoan fruit, they can transform by choice, and can do a hybrid form (similar to a mermaid) as well. Not trained in any particular fighting style, they're not much use in a battle, but they know basic first aid and are a good support to a team. They witnessed the murder of Corazon by Doffy (and prior, saw Law being placed in the treasure chest). //Canon Divergent// When Doffy leaves the island, leaving Corazon dying in the snow, They nurse him back to health slowly, giving him their coat to keep warm so that he doesn't freeze to death, and builds a small fire to keep him alive. When he comes to, they help him move inside the partially destroyed building. He gives her coat back willingly after explaining to him what it means to her, and that and his deep caring nature made her fall for him. When he's well enough to travel she travels with him so that he can reunite with Law, and they 'adopt' him.

My self ship for Ace x Buggy is a performance Clown part of the Buggy Pirates.

Ace has been a part of the crew for as long as any of the other original members and harbored feelings for their captain for a very long time before eventually breaking down and confessing after feeling like they were going to lose him to impel down. Buggy is initially very awkward and flustered and nervous about the confession but admits that he had feelings too. He's a bit of a tsundere so sometimes it takes a lot to get hid real feelings out in the open. Buggy has huge jealousy issues and will be very very possessive. Has a huge soft spot for Ace. They fight with a comically large hammer, and with a similar style to capoeira where they are dancing as they fight. They are obnoxious after they're officially together, but it's cute.