#if u would like to help by naming some ocs of mine (hell. yours too if u want) I’ll try my hand at making some lil guys

[peapod20001]

I think. It would be fun to make oc ship children

[peachywander]

All asks

Holy shit, this will be so much fun B-) *cracks knuckles*

Ask me: FANDOM EDITION

A - Your current OTP

Uhhh pff,,, skeleton dance I think?? I mean sure, skelley dance is always my current OTP, ngl. They're basically made for eachother, hell, even craig himself wore tshirts and stuff with wander hugging hater ifthisisn'tcannonthenidkwhatitis

B - A pairing you initially didn’t consider but someone changed your mind

To be honest,, wander x beza. I used to dislike every wander x girl ship bcs I see him as gae and nothing else. But I have a friend who does lots of art with them so I think it grew on me more and more with time?? Now I think they would look cute together, even if i'm still not super big on it.

C - A pairing you have never liked and probably never will

Wnder x domi. No comment, I despise it with all my heart 😂😂 Like I said earlier, I don't like most of wander x girl ships, and domi really hates wander. Sooo this ship simply doesn't make sense to me,, lmfao.

D - A pairing you wish you liked but just can’t

I think Twi x Flash from mlp. Yeah, I thought twi was cute when crushing on him in the 1st EG movie but they don't seem to have that chemistry I was hoping for. Plus I haven't seen any recent episodes of mlp in a long time, though I heard ppl say that he was mean to her once, if I remember well? Anyways, doesn't work so much for me.

E - Have you added anything stupid/cracky/hilarious to your fandom, if so, what

Besides memes/ shitposts, not really. Check @gunxball if you want to see posts of mine back when I was into gumball 2 yrs ago (golly i miss those times)

F - What’s the longest you’ve ever been in a fandom

Probably su (2016-2019) or kid vs kat (2011-2014)

G - Do you remember your first OTP, if so who was in it

Why yes, of course I do. cosmo x wanda from fop. They were so adorbs together esp in the first 2 seasons. Don't like how they got so flanderized with time, their dynamic was absolutely destroyed, and my day was ruined when I found out.

H - Do you prefer characters from real action series or anime series

I don't watch either lolol

But I think anime.

I - Has tumblr caused you to stop liking any fandoms, if so, which and why

Dislike the fandom, not the show itself? Probably hzbin hotel. The show has a pretty neat concept and animation and it had such a big impact on my artstyle when I first watched it. But the fandom? Absolute hell. (pun intended)

From shipping wars, to pestering vivz, anything is possible. Glad I haven't actually interacted with that part of the fandom.

J - Name a fandom you didn’t care/think about until you saw it all over tumblr

Not a show but among us. Back in september/october last year, my tl was FILLED with among us, up and down. Made me a lil tired of it but once I tried playing that game, I couldn't stop. Also the owlhouse, fell in love with the artstyle and story.

K - How do you feel about the other people in your current fandom

I don't have a current fandom. Not feeling in the mood + school + inactivity bcs of school. So I'll say abt my latest fandom, which was animaney. Well, people were really nice, and they seemed to enjoy the reboot. Nothing more to say tbh,,

L - Your favorite fanartist/author gives you one request, what do you ask for

Ummm I don't really like giving rqs to my fave artists, i don't wanna bother them haha

M - Your favorite fanart or fanartist

I don't know aaaa, prolly toonipi but she also draws ocs, not just fanart.

N - Your favorite fanfiction or fanauthor

Anything cute or sappy with skelleydance (NO nsfw)

O - Choose a song at random, which OTP does it remind you of

Lasers and feelings. Skellydance again. It matches sO well-

P - Invent a random AU for any fandom (we always need more ideas)

I used to have a skatepark AU ft. su chars but never put anything over here. I still have the sketches from 9th grade lmao.

Q - A ship you’ve abandoned and why

To be completely honest, Amydot. Up until s3 they really gave me possible ship vibes. They interacted a lot, and peri discovered her metal powers thanks to amy. But after s3 they hardly ever interacted anymore (besides that one ep from s5 with the kindergarden). I was so dissapointed, but hey lapdot isn't so bad anyway, right?

R - A pairing you ship that you don’t think anyone else ships

Back in 2014 I would have said chred from angry birds, definitely. Not many really shipped them, and when I saw some fanart of them on dA everyone would say "ew, gae". Well, 2014 everyone. I was always like "so?? i like that ship, what's the problem??"

S - Show us an example of your personal headcanon

Uhmm, i headcanon darwin from tawog that he likes to yodel lol

T - If you mostly have homoships, do you have any heteroships

I think my ships are 50-50, but here are some examples:

Larsdie

Stevnnie

Blckeye

Fluttrcord

Beeckard

Starc0

Tanyamao

Foxodile

Pennball

Carwin

U - If you mostly have heteroships, do you have any homoships

Same as T. Another examples:

Skelleydance

Wnderingeye

Sylava

Lumty

Rupphre

Pearlmthyst

Badgrmao

Bubbline

Flutterdsh

Patbob

V - Are you one of those fans who can’t watch anything without shipping

Lol no. Tbh, i'm not super big on shipping either. I only slighty like/dislike any ship i listed earlier (with the exception of skelleydance, i'm too in love with that ship)

W - 5 favorite characters from 5 different fandoms

wakko warner (animaney)

wander (woy)

fluttershy (mlp)

amethyst (su)

bubbles (ppg)

X - 3 OTPs from 3 different fandoms

skelleydance (woy)

lumty (toh)

stevnnie (su)

Y - A fandom you’re in but have no ships from

kid cosmic (or maybe I do ship papa g w/ chuck), animaney, okko, gravity flls

Z - Just ramble about something fan-related, go go go

That one fan made episode from su called the smothering, it was so freaking amazing. It helped a lot in relieveing the pain of that big hiatus from 2017 (which was the biggest one, i literally turned into a skeleton waiting for new eps). Loved peri's needy personality, as well as lappy's playful one. It was so well written, like it could be perfectly fit as a role reversal episode in the main show.

[lilwritingraven]

Searching for Hope

Part Four

Masterlink

John Seed x Female Deputy/OC

Summary: After her encounter with John, Audry seeks refuge amongst some fellow friends.

Trigger Warnings: Verbal Abuse

Notes: I want to thank @proudspires for beta reading this and making sure it doesn’t sound crazy! And thank you to everyone who has been reading this series and leaving comments. It really makes my day!

************************************************************************

She was back in the water, each wave lapping across her thighs. Still dressed in her old black tank and green cargo pants, a favorite of hers these days. Her shoes were gone, toes curling in the sand.

What held her attention, however, was the figure shadowed by the blinding headlights of the van. She could tell who it was, even before he spoke.

“Worthless.” Worthless. Worth less. W o r t h l e s s. The words echoed as a whisper, floating in the air around her. “Stupid.” Stupid. Stu pid. S t u p i d. She cried out, each word a punch to her gut.

“Please, stop,” she wailed, taking a step back into the water, hand flying to her chest.

“Look at yourself. Getting knocked up by some cultist? I knew you were a low life nothing.” Nothing, noth ing, n o t h i n g.

“No-“ She was gasping, unable to catch her breath.

“You’ll never be a good mother.” Audry clenched her eyes shut, hands covering her ears.

“Shut up!” Tears fell, dripping into waves. “You don’t know anything!”

She was alone when she opened her eyes, cloaked in darkness. The van had disappeared along with him. Her father.

She sensed John before he spoke, his hand brushing lightly over her shoulder. “Audry.” His voice was light, humming her name in the way she liked. She leaned against his chest, head resting against his cheek. His hand curled around, resting lightly against the base of her throat. Slowly, agonizingly, getting tighter. “You’ll never be free.”

Alarm rang through her, any thoughts of escape flying out the window as his other arm came around her waist. He pushed the hem of her shirt up, fingers splaying against the skin of her stomach. “John, please…” She was always begging him these days, it seemed.

“You’re mine now.” His lips came to rest on her temple, speaking the words to her mind. “This child, our child, will need somebody to protect it.” Her heart sank, his laugh vicious. “World knows you can’t do it.”

She struggled again, but John held tight. “Leave me alone!” Desperate. She was desperate to get away. She couldn’t handle being held down, brought back too many memories of-

She was yanked awake, opening her eyes to bright lights and a face- someone standing over her, holding her down. “Audry, you need to sit still!” She knew him, had last seen him when…

Falling.

Falling.

“Amazing Grace-“

“Sheriff?” The shock of it was enough to send her falling back against the bed, chest heaving. Stood above her, hands on her shoulders, was Whitehorse. He was looking down at something. Someone, she realized. Someone who was pulling a string through her side.

“There we go.” His voice was rough, as familiar as her own. It brought tears to her eyes.

Audry reached up, fingers wrapping around his. “I thought- I was so worried you had-“ He looked back to her, features softening.

“Listen child, there will be time for catch up later. Right now, there’s more pressing issues. How far along are you?” It made no sense; how did he know? Audry gaped at him, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water.

“But, when, how did you?”

“Pastor Jeffries informed us. Good thing too, the adrenaline alone would have killed that poor thing in there.” The look he gave was so tender Audry found herself squirming away, remnants of her dream still floating in her peripherals.

“I was 7 weeks when John-“ the words choked her, for reasons other than what Whitehorse had guessed.

He squeezed her shoulder, trying to be comforting. “He doesn’t know where you are. He won’t be a problem anymore.” Not true.

“Where am I?”

“The Henbane. We’ve taken up refuge at the prison, but don’t worry yourself with that.” He grunted as he stood, nodding at the woman stitching her side. “For now, you rest. You’ve got some healing to do.”

She could have told him that the last thing she wanted was to go back to her dreams, but it somehow didn’t seem important. Before he could leave, she grasped at his sleeve. “Please, can you call Adelaide?”

He paused, grimacing just a moment before allowing a small nod. “I’ll do what I can.”

_______________

Adelaide Drubman was more of a mother to Audry growing up than her own had been. So, when she came storming through the prison into the makeshift hospital, Audry could have cried with relief. She ignored the pain the pull of her stitches caused to give the older woman the hug she herself wanted.

And Adelaide never disappointed.

“Audry, I swear you’re trying to give me a heart attack. What’s this I hear about you getting captured and nearly killed by John Seed?” Her hands were all over Audry, pulling her shirt up, inspecting every square inch she could get her hands on.

“Addie, please,” Audry didn’t think her face could burn any brighter, looking at the other infirmary patients. Grabbing Addie’s hands, she brought her attention back. “Please. I need to talk to you. Somewhere,” her eyes glanced around the room again. “More private.”

Addie was not sensitive about privacy. “Audry, you don’t need to be modest with them. I’m sure they’ve all seen their fair share of boobs, penis’ and vaginas. Now come on, let me see the damage.”

Audry had been wrong; her face did get hotter. “Addie! That’s not what I meant, please.” She pulled them both towards the back room, where the makeshift doctor was residing.

“Alright darlin’, anything you need. You, out.” Addie pointed at the doctor/veterinarian. He scrambled away, smart enough not to make an argument. She sat Audry down and waited patiently, giving her full attention.

Audry swallowed, looking around the room to try and find her nerve. “I need- What I mean is- It’s like…” She let out a grunt, frustrated with herself. “I’m… I’m pregnant-“

“You’re what-“

“And John is the father.” Audry finished, cutting Addie off. The other woman leapt from her chair, sending it tumbling behind her. Audry looked down at her hands, despair pulsing through her veins. “I thought I could just continue fighting, just be, I don’t know, careful? But…” She released her breath, the strands of her hair flying into the air.

Addie was rooted to the spot, gaping at Audry. “Now, darlin’ I know you know how to use protection. Hell, I was the one who gave you your first condom!”

“Addie-“ Audry’s face grew horrified, but the older girl continued on.

“So, please, explain to me how this happened.” She folded her arms over her chest, looking down her nose at Audry; a look Audry had gotten many times growing up. She may not have been her mother by blood, but that never stopped Adelaide Drubman.

Audry bit her lip, playing with her fingernails. “I, um, might have been just a little, teensy, tiny bit… drunk…” She flinched at her own words, feeling the stupidity welling to the surface. “It didn’t pass my mind.”

“Audry,” And Addie laughed. “Was he really that good in the sack? That you couldn’t even stop to put on a condom?”

Audry did not want to be having this conversation. “Adelaide, please. There are more pressing matters than- than how good he was in bed.” Yes, her face was on fire. No, she would never live this conversation down. “How am I supposed to help, to save Burke, and Joey, and… and-“ She hadn’t thought about him since this all started, and shame ripped her open. “Oh my gosh, Staci!”

Addie grabbed her shoulders, pulling her up and into a hug as the sobs racked her body. “Shh, honey. It’s not your fault. I can help you. I’ll call my nephew, and have my bastard ex-husband send Hurk Jr. out here to help. You’re not alone in this.” Addie pushed the hair behind her ear, wiping a stray tear from her honeyed eyes.

“I- I don’t know if it will help. What if John finds out? Joseph seems to have a pretty good idea. They’re probably looking for me right now!” Panic rose like bile in her throat, threatening to overwhelm her. She gripped onto the older woman’s shirt like a lifeline. “I can’t be trapped with them. I can’t be owned by them.”

“That will never happen.” It was rare to hear Addie snarl, which is probably what made it that much more frightening. “Nothing will happen to you. I won’t let you leave my side.”

Audry looked up at the woman, eyes searching hers, nerves calming slightly. Slowly, her fingers began to relax. “Okay. Okay, I trust you.”

At that, Adelaide grinned. “What’s not to trust, darlin’?”

[sierraraeck]

Break (Pt.1)

BAU x OC Aundreya

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Summary: As the situation for Spencer in prison continues to get worse, Aundreya has to come up with something to save him and fast. Story fourteen.

Category: Angst.

Warnings: Cussing. Mentions of drugs and homicide. Sexualized comments.

Word Count: 4.0k

A/N: Just a reminder that I don’t actually know how prisons work.

All bad things happen at 3am.

I am convinced.

If you can get to 4am, you are in the clear, but until then, 3am is coming to bite you in the ass.

The last time I got a call at 3am, it was to inform me that Derek’s cousin was missing and we had to save her.

This time, it was to let me know that Spencer was in critical condition in the prison infirmary.

I was the first one at the office other than Hotch who made the calls. The rest of the team wasn’t too far behind me, all walking in with the utmost sense of urgency.

Except for Derek.

Who was pissed.

“I thought you said that those things were going to help him!” he spat in my direction. Derek, Aaron, and I had kept our promise on not telling the rest of the team how bad of a condition Spencer was in, and I didn’t let either of them in on my plan with the chains and fake backstory until Derek figured it out and told Aaron.

The rest of the team stopped in their tracks to try and understand what he was talking about. “Yes, they were supposed to and they have for weeks,” I replied, attempting to stay calm.

“That’s not good enough. Instead of protecting him, you put a target on his back,” he accused.

“Woah, calm down-” Prentiss tried.

“I am not going to calm down! Reid got stabbed, Emily. He almost died! And it’s because of her,” he said, turning his fiery gaze on me again.

“That is not fair,” I dropped my voice almost to a whisper and my nostrils were flaring.

“Oh really? Because I think that those guys wouldn’t have made an elaborate plan to kill him if he’d just kept his head down. Those bracelets of yours drew attention to him and they probably hurt him only to get back at you for whatever the hell you did to them,” he said. His voice was cold and dry, and I couldn’t help but wonder if he was right. If Spencer would have been better off without me altogether. The answer had to be yes.

I was thankful for Emily’s persistence to understand because she saved me from having to respond. “What are you talking about?”

“Chambers here went to visit Reid. She gave him those bracelets and rings of hers that identify her as The Figure, or the gang-slash-ring leader or whatever. She told him to wear them and to ‘drop the innocent act’ and to tell other inmates that he was associated with her. Look where that got him.”

“It’s not her fault, Morgan. That could have happened to him either way, and it could have happened sooner had he not had those with him,” Prentiss tried. She was one of the best people who could get through to Morgan, but this time, it didn’t seem to be working.

“Or it could have not happened at all. I guess we’ll never know considering she continues to make decisions about his safety without input from the rest of us,” he hissed.

“You’re right, we won’t know,” Hotch said, emerging from his office. “All we have now is that it happened and we have to move on and try to do what’s best for him. Which includes working together to solve this case and get his name cleared. Understand?”

Derek sent one more dagger through me with his eyes before looking up at Hotch, “Yes.”

“Chambers?”

“Yes.”

“Great. Rossi is on his way to visit Reid and update us along the way. The rest of us need to look harder at this case,” Hotch said.

We all headed up to meet him in the briefing room and Prentiss quickly caught up to me. “Hey, it’s not your fault. Don’t let him make you feel bad about it. You were just trying to help.”

“Thanks Emily, but he’s right. I wasn’t being helpful,” I let out a small sigh and shook my head, “and it never seems like I am.”

With that, we entered the room and got to work.

# # # # # # # # # # # # #

“So all we have is Reid talking to Corbyn Young, a kid who was a part of Aundreya’s ring who ended up dead only hours after Reid talked to him because he thought Corbyn was stalking him, and a sketchy message from someone who she’s pissed off?” JJ confirmed, gesturing my way.

Morgan scoffed under his breath, “Yeah, that really narrows it down.” I didn’t even bother to glare at him.

“Chambers, can you think of anyone in particular that would do something this intricate?” Hotch asked.

“Yes. Like half of the people from my past,” I said, confirming what Morgan stated. Hotch sighed.

“We’ve been going over all of this and looking into more angles for weeks and we are no closer to getting him out that we were when we started,” JJ huffed.

“This sonuvabitch is thorough,” Morgan said.

I sat there going over every single person I thought was capable of doing this, hoping I could think of anyone other than who I’d already suspected.

My train of thought was interrupted by a phone ringing.

“Yes?” Hotch answered. There was a mumbling on the other line before Hotch paused and said, “He’s going to be fine. He just woke up.” A collective sight spread throughout the room. “Yeah… Are you sure?... Anything else we need to know?... What do you think?... Sure… Yes, that is true… I’ll let her know. Thanks Dave.” With that, he hung up and turned to look at me. “He wants to see you.”

“What?” Derek, JJ and I all blurted at the same time.

Hotch and Prentiss exchanged an unreadable look.

“Head down there. We will continue without you,” is all he told me. I nodded, and quickly scanned the reactions around me. Confusion, disgust, betrayal, concern. A mixture of some or all of those.

But there wasn’t much time to think through it. I just left the remaining five of them to their work and headed for the prison.

# # # # # # # # # # # # #

“Hey Doctor Genius,” I said as I slipped into the infirmary. Rossi was sitting in a chair next to him.

“Hey,” he said, sitting further up.

“I thought we agreed that this wouldn’t happen again,” I playfully scolded. He quirked one side of his mouth up.

“I guess you’re just gonna have to keep showing up to help me,” he said. It was meant to be a joke, and I knew that the time he got shot wasn’t what he was trying to get at, but it was all I could think about when he said ‘help me.’ I vividly remembered what happened the last time I offered to help him.

But I played along. “Maybe I should start charging.”

“Hey, that’s my line,” Rossi accused. I let a small laugh escape my lips as Rossi got up to leave. “I’ll be back.”

Once he left, I occupied the seat he’d just vacated. “Darrell?”

“Yeah.”

“And his two friends?”

“Yeah.”

“Where?”

Instead of answering, he exposed his stomach to me. There were two wounds with stitches through them. One was just to the left of his belly button and the other was just above it, forming a line about two inches long. If I had to guess, the scar ended right where his ribs started.

“They compliment your other one,” I commented.

“Thanks,” he said, covering himself back up.

We sat in silence for a while before the question I’d had for almost two months starting nagging at the back of my mind. I wanted to wait for the right time to ask, but I really didn’t think that would ever come. So I just went for it.

“How was your date with Maeve?”

He was thrown for a loop. His eyes got wide and he furrowed his brow. Clearly this was not the question he was expecting. “It was fine.”

“Fine? That’s all?” I gave him an encouraging smile.

“I showed up, she almost got all the way to the restaurant when I thought I saw her stalker.”

“Her stalker?” I was astonished. He’d never mentioned this before.

“Oh. Yeah. That’s why we didn’t plan to meet sooner and why I have to call her on payphones. It’s because she has a stalker,” he tried to sound matter-of-fact, but I detected the disappointment behind the statements.

“Oh Spence,” I said. His nickname just slipped out and he noticed, but I kept going. “I’m so sorry. What made her wanna meet, then?”

“She thought they were gone. She thought she was in the clear, but when I showed up, there was a man who just kept looking over at me and I got worried and called it off.”

“I’m so sorry,” I repeated.

“Me too,” he said, dropping his gaze.

“Is there anything I can do?” I offered. It was a long shot, but I figured I might as well put it out there.

“What do you mean?”

“I just mean that you haven’t been able to contact her for weeks, and she’s got to be worried. If I can call or check up on her…” I trailed off, not really knowing what I’d do. I was hoping he had an idea.

“Um, I don’t know. I don’t want her to know about … this,” he said.

“I understand that. I can leave that part out and just assure her you’re okay and that you didn’t just fall off of the face of the Earth,” I suggested.

“Yeah. I guess. I just don’t know how she’d feel about me giving her number to someone else, you know?”

It was a valid point and I could tell he was conflicted. “It’s up to you. I will do whatever you want.”

He sat there pondering before answering, “No. As much as I don’t want her to worry, I won’t risk her safety.”

“Okay. That’s a good choice,” I said, granted, I would have agreed with his decision either way.

“Do you guys have anything?” he asked.

I tried to ignore how desperate his eyes were when I replied, “We’re working on it.”

“Okay.”

“But I have a plan,” I said. His eyes snapped right back to mine. “Please, just hold on for a little bit longer.”

“What are you thinking?”

“I’m going to get you out of here,” I whispered.

Realization struck his eyes. “Don’t. It’s not worth it.”

“Of course it is. I will be in and out,” I promised.

“You could get caught,” he pleaded.

“I won’t. They didn’t catch me the first time, they won’t catch us the second time.”

“Us?” his level of concern was on the rise.

“I’ve got a round trip ticket and you’ve got a one-way out.”

“It’s a bad idea.”

“It’s the best one we have.”

“There’s got to be a better way,” he breathed.

“I’m not sure there is. And I’d rather have us both be on the run than leave you in here and have you end up dead, knowing I could have done something more.” He had nothing to say to that, so I finished with, “One of those situations you can get out of, the other one you can’t. Buying you, and the team, more time to clear your name is the best case scenario.”

I saw his eyes flick towards the door and I turned around to see Rossi approaching.

I rushed, “Don’t worry about it. Just keep yourself in here and in solitary as long as you can. I’m coming to get you.”

# # # # # # # # # # # # #

I signed myself up to go back to my least favorite place on Earth.

Prison.

The problem was, that if I was going to break him out, I very well couldn’t do it as a visitor. I would have to become a bit more involved. As much as I didn’t want to, being an inmate again was going to be the easiest way in and out.

That being siad, I had to do something that would warrant me going to prison, without being something super extreme like murder. White collar crimes would take too long to set up, so I was thinking theft? Vandalism? Destruction of private property? Trespassing? Drug dealing?

While those were all viable options, I had one that seemed even better. Or maybe worse. But definitely quicker, more effective, and immediately on hand.

Assaulting an FBI agent.

Granted, I was an FBI agent, so it might seem more like a workplace quarrel, but I went into it with a Plan A, a Plan B, and of course a Plan C.

I arrived back at the office, but waited in the parking lot for my text to be delivered.

It only took a couple of minutes before Derek Morgan was exiting the building, approaching me at a rapid pace.

“I got your text, what’s up?”

“Hit me.” It was a simple command but one that obviously didn’t make sense to him.

“What?” Derek’s eyes got wide.

“Hit me!” I said louder, as if my volume change would help him understand. When he continued to look at me dumbfoundedly, I blew an irritated breath out of my nose, then hit him right in his perfectly chiseled jaw. It kinda hurt. “I said hit me!”

As he recovered, he turned around and tossed a fist at my head, which I easily ducked under. I was honestly surprised he was willing to come at me after only one punch, but I guess his anger and disgust for getting his younger brother hurt overpowered his usually clean conscience. That, or my commanding and urgent tone really convinced him to do what I asked. Potentially both.

“Oh come on, Derek,” I taunted, “That can’t possibly be your best.”

He wiggled his jaw, but took a step back. “I don’t know what the hell is going on, but I am not going to do this.” I guess he’s stronger than I thought.

He turned to walk away, but I came up behind him and swept his legs out from under him. He landed on his ass and had the wind knocked out of him.

“The first rule of fighting is to never turn your back to your opponent,” I said with a condescending tone. I gave him room to stand up, which he quickly utilized, turning to face me.

“Why are you doing this?” he asked me. It’s as if the asphalt stripped him of his anger in addition to his breath.

“Because I figured I’d have the most fun kicking your ass,” I replied. I went in for my second strike and he moved out of the way, catching my fist in his. I pivoted away and elbowed him in the ribs with my free arm.

I don’t want to hurt you too badly, I thought, but I need to fuel you enough so you’ll fight back.

He grunted but tossed me away from him, putting his foot out in the process causing me to trip. The sting of the pavement left nice tears in my pants right over my already bleeding knees.

“No need to hold back, Derek,” I grumbled, “I thought I already warned all of you to never go easy on me.” He could have hit me with no problem, but he opted to trip me instead. I couldn’t have any of that if my plan was going to be successful.

“Why are you doing this?” he repeated.

I pushed off from my hands so I was standing, brushing the little rocks out of my palms and raised my eyebrows, “I deserve it, don’t I?”

I didn’t give him time to answer because I went in for a kick. I made contact with his shoulder which made him stumble backwards.

“Huh?” was all he could manage.

I went in for another kick, aimed at his right shoulder this time, and only barely made contact before he grabbed my ankle with his strong hands. He held me firmly where I was, and I almost wanted to smile at the opportunity. It was a move I had mastered, but hadn’t performed in a long time. I pushed off of my other leg, springing into the air and completing a 360 turn. Usually, I’d kick the other person in the face as I went, but I didn’t want to do too much damage to Derek. That wasn’t my main goal. Instead, I kicked over his head, but the movement was strong enough to break his grip on my other ankle. I landed one foot after the other, returning to a typical fighting stance and read the look of astonishment in his eyes.

I persisted, “I mean, I’ve hurt people. Killed people. I’m no better than the murderers we hunt. I’ve been manipulating all of you, getting you to trust me for my own benefit, and look how that’s ended up. Some kind of profilers you guys are, letting a grade A criminal join your unit, then letting her rip you apart right under your noses. I’ve caused nothing but trouble for all of you since the day I joined. I almost got your best friend killed. Can you imagine that? Being shoved against the wall, the blade dripping with his blood. Slowly bleeding out on the floor of his dark cell, wondering if he was gonna die alone in a place he didn’t belong, having that be his lasting legacy. I mean, I was the only reason they targeted him. You said it yourself. I’m the reason he’s in prison in the first place,” I said deliberately, making sure to emphasize each word, letting the weight behind them sink in. I could feel him winding up and it brought a curl to my lips. If there was one thing I knew how to do, it was act deranged and sound enticed by the idea of Spencer’s blood on the floor, hoping it would be enough.

And it was.

I saw his foot shift forward an inch or two before his fist followed. This time, I let him hit me.

My head snapped to the far right. It was a dizzying feeling, and it almost forced me off my feet.

I cackled as I turned to look at him, bringing the back of my hand to my mouth to wipe the sticky blood from my lips. The sight and smell, the whole atmosphere of fighting, brought back memories of my worst days, but honestly some of my proudest moments. I hated myself for it, but I meant it when I said, “I forgot how exhilarating this is.”

The look on his face was one I’d only ever seen him wear when staring down an unsub. I reveled in the fact that not only was my plan working, it was working perfectly. I decided I’d rip that disgusted look of his face, going in for a punch I knew he’d dodge, instead making contact with my knee at the base of his throat. I heard him cough and bring a hand to his neck, but by now, I had his adrenaline pumping. He brought his other fist up and made full contact with the center of my stomach before following it up with a strike to my face.

We were both clutching at our most recent sore spots, my eye socket throbbing, preparing for the next blow when the doors behind me blew open.

“What the hell is going on out here?” Hotch hollered.

I turned to look at him, and realized that the entire team had followed. I glanced above their heads and noticed the camera there. Garcia must’ve been watching. I accounted that they’d get us on camera, noting that I initiated it and he resisted, but I didn’t anticipate having a live audience.

Before either of us could answer, Derek came up behind me and wrapped his arms around me, attempting to restrain me.

“First rule of fighting: never turn your back on your opponent.”

“Second rule: make sure you have the proper grip.” I clasped my hands together and brought both of my elbows down into his ribcage, then shot my hands up into his face. It pushed his weight slight backwards, and while he still had a pretty good hold on me, it faltered only for a second. But that was all the time I needed.

I pushed my arms against his while forcing my spine into his chest. It created even more wiggle room, enough that I could turn and face him. He grabbed my wrists, and I wrapped my hands around his in return. I tossed my whole body weight towards the ground while driving my heel into his shin, forcing his weight toward me. Before he could land on top of me though, I put my other foot up, centered on his torso, and flipped him clean over me. It was the second time I knocked the wind out of him, and I kipped-up to standing.

I could have easily kicked the shit out of him at this point, but the look of horror on sweet Penelope’s face stopped me from completely losing myself. Had I not looked away, I wouldn’t have been able to follow through on my plan. My plan to save Spencer. That’s what I was repeating over and over in my head, convincing myself this was the right thing to be doing.

I planted a single foot on top of his chest, and looked down at him.

“Why are you doing this?” he pleaded, but this time it was different. He was no longer asking me why, he knew why, he was now asking me why I thought this was the best solution.

“I have to.” It was the best, and really the only, explanation I had.

I heard Hotch approach us and I turned to him, drawing my gun.

He halted in his tracks, and Rossi and the ladies behind him gasped.

“Aundreya, what are you doing?”

“Cuff me.” It was a similar command to the one I gave to Derek only minutes earlier.

“You want me to cuff you?” Aaron confirmed.

I fired into the air, then tossed my gun toward him, watching it slide on the ground with a screech before being stopped by his rubber soles.

“It’s protocol. I’ve assaulted an FBI agent and I pulled my gun on you, even firing off a shot. Cuff me.”

He slowly continued his path to me, all the while pulling his cuffs from his pocket.

Derek stood up and helped restrain me as Hotch linked the cuffs behind me. He ushered me by the frozen agents, and it was like I could see the gears spinning in their heads.

Once he got me through the entry doors, he whispered, “There was a better way. We were going to solve it.”

I knew I could count on him to put it together that quickly. He always did do the best job reading me. “You still have to. This is only a temporary solution.”

“Why?”

I was getting really tired of that question. If I never heard it again it would be too soon.

Other security guards were rushing down to detain me and move me to a temporary jail before transferring me to a prison. I quickly said under my breath, “If I don’t, he’s going to be dead before the end of the week. Then we will never save him. Do me one favor, and get me transferred to the same prison.”

He nodded as he handed me off to a bunch of guards in white uniforms. I gave him one single nod before turning away, awaiting my new cell; my new home.

Part 2

Series Taglist (open)

@justanothetfangirl

@kris-stuff

@blameitonthenight21

[capriswritingnartshenanigans]

Snapshot #2: The Storm (Negan/Carrie -F!OC)

Negan/F!OC, Carrie. SFW. 3,502 words. Warnings: Typical Negan language.

Links:

AO3

Snapshot #1: First Time

Carrie is leaving to help the Kingdom move to Hilltop as the harsh winter has finally done their home in. On return, she hears about what happened between Judith and Negan, and quickly goes to see if they are okay. Includes spoilers for Episode 16 of Season 9, "The Storm".

I pace uneasily as I prepare for the trip to the Kingdom to help them move to the Hilltop safely. With their pipelines only worsening with the impending winter and then finally busting, it was decided they needed to take shelter in another community for the time being. And, I wanted to help. However, that also means I have to leave Negan, and leave him in the hands of the others, namely Gabriel. 

I shiver as I exit out into the chilling air, snow crunching under my feet, my steps quick as I hurry to the said man’s prison. It’ll be weird not coming to sit with him every day, like I had for the last, what, four and half, maybe even five years now? I mean, I go on runs sometimes or I go help when and where I can with the other communities, but it’s been a long time since then. I’d taken over constant guard duty, which involved caring for Negan daily and keeping him company. Even if that’s currently possibly in jeopardy with the last time me leaving him in Gabriel’s hands resulted in Gabriel accidentally giving him an escape. My lips thin at the memory of the talking-to Michonne had given me once I got back. I’d never seen her so angry. 

I shake that thought off as I find the prison’s main door open due to Gabriel already being inside. I try to ignore the eager but also nervous fluttering in my stomach and chest at the thought of seeing Negan. Then the thought of having to say good-bye, even if it’s only for a little while hits, twisting those flutters into something else. As I go down the flight of stairs and approach where Gabriel stands, I hear Negan immediately start up, and it takes all my will not to grin at both that and the droll expression Gabriel is shooting him. “Oh, ho, ho! Gabe, looky here, my boss lady’s done fuckin’ showed up for duty! She’s standin’ attention as we fuckin’ speak, just like I would be if the shitty ass cold wasn’t freezing my nuts off.” 

And, no matter how hard I fight it, I still look over at him, finding a wide grin on his lips and a blanket wrapped around his shoulders. My stomach goes wild when my gaze meets his and I find the usual warmth there waiting for me. “Yes, hi, Negan. I see you’re up early. Whatever could have caused that, I wonder?”

“The goddamn cold, fuck. It’s colder than a frosty ass head-nun’s vagina up in here.” It takes all my will to not snort and burst into laughter and I very quickly retract my gaze to Gabriel, who looks completely unamused while my shoulders shake violently at my repressed laughter. 

“U-Uh-huh, I s-see,” I stutter out, trying so hard to keep it together. “Well, uh, Gabriel, you mind giving out fellow inmate here another few covers? To, y’know, keep off the head-nun’s frosting of his cell.” The priest rolls his eyes and deeply exhales from his nose.

“I guess so. The group isn’t leaving yet, stay with him while I go get them, Carrie,” he requests as he quickly leaves, shaking his bald head. I purse my lips, look at the ground for a moment, then turn to Negan again. He’s steadily making his way to the bars, a long smile that shows off his dimples on his face. I approach them too, degloving my hands and wrapping them around the bars. I wince at the bite the cold has given the metal. As he closes in, he gently lays his hands over mine, and brings our heads next to one another, our noses practically touching. 

“Hi,” I reply softly, staring into his hazel eyes. 

“Hi. So, you have to leave today huh?” He tries to sound nonchalant, but I can hear the disappointment and unhappiness he tried to hide. He doesn’t want me to go.

“Yeah. There’s a big storm that’s moving in, and we can’t afford to let the Kingdom get caught in it as is. Hopefully, I’ll be back in a few days, four or five at most.” He seems to deflate further, his smile wavering. 

“Be careful, yeah? Don’t make me have to engineer another fucking escape to come lookin’ for your ass or else you’ll be coming home with some marks on it,” he says warningly, playfully. I grin at such a suggestion. 

“Why, Negan, it almost sounds like you’re saying you’ll spank me.” His smile becomes stronger, turning into a smirk. His voice drops an octave, which sends electricity skittering all through my body. 

“Oh, Miss Grimes, it almost sounds like you might be into such a thing,” he teases back, his eyes twinkling. I can feel a slight blush working up in my face. 

“Mmm, I guess you’ll just have to find out, huh big guy?” I look away for a moment, before taking a more serious tone. “Negan.” His playfulness drops with mine. 

“Yeah?” 

“Please, try to behave. Don’t give anyone a reason to do something stupid with so many of us not here,” I plead quietly, my voice earnest. When he starts to lean away, chewing the inside of his lip, I add, “Not all of them are as nice as me and Gabriel and none of them surely will enjoy your sense of humor for long.” He snorts offendedly. 

“What, you sayin’ I have a shit sense of humor now? Gonna say good-bye, be a good little fucker, and then say that?” 

“I adore you and your sense of humor,” I answer, knowing my look has to be teasing the hell out of him, “but you also have a tendency to antagonize anyone not me or Judith when you’re left alone with them. So, I’m asking you to just play nice until I get back. Please.” His eyes hood slightly and his thumbs begin running circles over mine as a soft chuckle rumbles out of his chest.

“You adore me?” He lightly tongues the inside of his lip. “Well, I gotta say, that’s real fucking cute and sweet of you.” I roll my eyes.

“If you haven’t figured that out by now, mister, then I do think we need to find a CAT scan for you,” I answer a little under my breath, but I know he hears me. One of his hands lift off of mine to stroke my cheek, then tuck a strand that fell from my ponytail behind my ear. 

“Yeah, I don’t know many people who’d sit ‘n argue for, shit, two or three hours just to get a man another table, chair, and candles.” As returning crunching steps filter down to us both, Negan retracts his hands with hesitation, letting me step back from the bars. 

“No, I did that because it’s a basic human right. Same for the showers.” Just then, Gabriel comes down with two more comforters. “Gabriel, if the storm gets bad-” 

“Don’t leave him down here?”

“Yes. Please do what you have to to see he isn’t left here. It’s not right. And if I find out otherwise… Rick’s rage will be nothing compared to what mine will be like,” I promise the priest. 

“I know. I agree,” he answers as he hands the comforters through the bars to Negan. “The group is ready now. You should go join them.” I look to Negan, whose expression causes my heart to squeeze painfully. 

“Please remember what I said,” I murmur, wanting to touch him. God, what I wouldn’t give to hug him right now. Before I leave. You never know if you get to come back. 

“I will,” he answers in a raspy, low tone, his voice sounding thick. 

“Promise?” He nods. I feel my lips press into a line as my heart fights to stay, while my brain knows I need to go. The climb up the stairs feels like the longest staircase I’ve ever had to climb.

~~Four days later, returning to Alexandria~~

“God, when we get home, I’m sitting in front of a heater or a fireplace until I feel cooked,” I grumble from atop my horse, shivering. The storm may be over, but the cold has done nothing more than settle in further. Shadow nickers in agreement, though I’m not sure how she plans to find something like that to be in front of, too. I lightly pat her neck.

“Aghhh, if I have to hear you complain about the cold anymore until we’re home, I will personally see to it you sit outside on the cold ass concrete,” Michonne answers, rolling her eyes playfully. I throw her a filthy look. 

“Them’s fightin’ words, Michonne,” I warn sternly. She chuckles, shaking her head, sending her dreads shifting around her head. 

“We’ll tie her to one o’ the church pillars,” Daryl chimes in, carefully keeping his face from my view. “Won’t have to listen to her ass sit and whine about the concrete.” I shoot him a withering glare and flip him off, which he returns with a low laugh. 

“Like to see you try, Daryl. You forget I’m good with a tranq gun.” Everyone laughs at that, though some roll their eyes or shake their heads. He snorts and it sounds like he mutters, "Bet," under his breath.  

As the gates come into view, I can see two guards in attendance, Kyle and Laura. Then, I can somewhat hear them shouting, something like, “They’re here! Open the gates!” Which is exactly what they do as we approach, heaving snow out of our path as the carriage comes closer to the entrance. Rosita is waiting there, as is a few other residents whose names don’t form in my mind. As those of us on single horses climb off, a few of said unnamed residents come up and take them while Daryl, Rosita, and I round the carriage to get the excess weapons and supplies out to put away. 

I grunt as I heave up a stack of spears and poles and some more wire. “Heavy ass shit.” 

“Best be glad we don’t have you on building rotation or we’d never hear you shut your complainin',” Daryl says with a grunt of his own as he grabs a couple of big boxes. 

“Shut up, Dixon, before your bike has an accident,” I grumble as we head to the store houses, Rosita follows with some stacks of fabric and excess grain from Hilltop. 

“You touch her, you won’t have hands left to keep your prisoner in line.” 

“Oh, who’s gonna take em? You? I can run faster and you have more weak areas pal,” I point out with a dip of my head towards his lower half. He lets out a disgusted noise. 

“Oh, you gonna fight dirty then? Cheap shot.”

“Says the man who prefers headlocks.” We split up as I head to the armory and he heads to the food cabinet. “Don’t trip over anything, Daryl! Hate to think of what that pickle vinegar will do to your vest.” 

“Yeah, hope you do trip over somethin’ and save me a headache later.” We both laugh as we head into different buildings, cut off from each other. Scott’s currently in the armory, checking supplies from the looks of him with a clipboard in hand. 

"More spears?" 

"And gardening stuffs for when planting times come around again," I reply, shifting my arms so he can grab the spears. After he does, I head to the second room back from the armory where all the gardening supplies are placed. While setting everything down, Scott strikes up a conversation.

“You guys just got back, like, now right?”

“Yep.” 

“So you don’t know what happened?”

“No?” I reply, a little harsher than I mean to due to throwing poles up on a high shelf. “Nah, haven’t heard a thing, man. I came here straight away.”

“Well, we were moving to Aaron’s house because the other fireplace just about blew up (since only like two places has fireplaces and shit was freezing), and Dog had been loose earlier, so when he started barking Judith tore after him!” 

“She what?!” I nearly yell, causing several rows of chicken wire to fall down as the row I was adding crashes into them.

“Yeah! And Negan went running like a bat out of hell after her! She’s alright and he is mostly, but he did fuck his knee up- hey! Hey, where are you going?!” I barely pay Scott’s yells any mind as I haul ass out of the building and on to the medical ward. He had best be here or there will be hell to pay, I promise silently as I nearly bust the door down. I turn to see Michonne exiting out of one of the single rooms on the left. She gives me a concerned look. 

“Is something wrong?”

“I just- I heard what happened- where’s Negan?” I speak so fast my lungs hurt in an effort to give my words air they need. She nods to the room behind her as she nears me. 

“He’s in there; he’s alright, but he has to rest his knee for a few days-”

“And Judith?”

“Fine,” Siddiq answers before she can as he rounds from the main room. “She’ll be just fine. A little cold burn, but that’s it.” I nod, relieved, but… I still want to see Negan. 

“I’m going to speak to Negan, make sure everything went well with Gabriel.” Michonne gives me a knowing look, one I pointedly ignore as I enter his room and close the door behind me. I hear his intake of breath, and I turn to him. He’s on a bed with his usual long-sleeved button-up, trousers, and a white t-shirt, with one knee bent and propped up with a pillow. He gives you one of his little grins, the ones with just a touch of wickedness. I can see spots of cold burn on his face, especially his cheeks. 

Before I know what I’m doing, I’m right at his side, cupping his face with one hand while the other strokes his buzzcut hair and the back of his neck. “Well, shit-”

“Thank you.” He stops when I speak, his grin fading a little. “Thank you for saving her. Are you okay? What happened?” He leans into my touch, his eyes closing for a moment as I stroke his brow. 

“I’ll be fine, darlin’. She went after the dog, right into the goddamn storm. I went after her.”

“Only you?” He nods. I feel my lower lip tremble, so I try to stiffen it. And, with one last stroke down his neck, I climb right into his lap, my thighs straddling his on either side, my pelvis hovering over his. A cocky look starts to work its way onto his face and I can see he’s preparing to say something that definitely expresses his interest in such a position, but before he can, I wrap my arms around his shoulders, only pausing to shrug off my militial jacket into his lap. I pull myself tightly to him. 

It seems the action surprised him, as he goes silent for a moment other than a soft stutter in his breath, before one of his hands makes its way under my hair to my undercut while the other splays over my lower back, pressing me into his chest. His face buries into the side of my neck, and I cup the back of his head as he does so. I’ve hugged him a very scant few times over the years as we became closer, mostly when one of us really needed it, or when the lack of touch outside of our hands became too much. Always trying to be careful, so I wouldn’t be forced off of watching him. 

I rub in between his shoulders, working at the tension there, while at the same time lightly pressing my lips right above his ear. We stay like that for a few minutes, before he slowly pulls back, looking in my eyes. His are more green today, beautiful tealish green, with brown only being visible around the edges of his irises. I let my hand drift from his head to stroke his jaw as his moves from my hair to stroke my face. His eyes drop to my lips, then slowly wander back up. He’s asking for permission. I tilt my head, letting my lips open slightly, and I do the same motion with my eyes. He slowly leans in, till his lips are a hair from mine, keeping eye contact even with our eyes hooded.

And when I let mine slide close, his lips press against mine, sweetly, gently. His are a little chapped, and I imagine mine are too, from the damned cold. His hands cup my face, their warmth soaking into my still chilled skin and the calluses scraping in a way that sends a shiver through me. After a few moments, he pulls back, but only slightly, his lips still brushing mine. “Fuck, I was wondering what that’d be like.”

“So was I.” I sound as breathless as I feel, and without thinking about it, I press my lips back to his, pulling his face gently to mine. We share multiples of these softer kisses, always drawing back together near immediately after parting, before they start to deepen and last longer. His lips taste like the fruity pain reliever Siddiq has in his medicine cabinet, and God, they feel amazing against mine.

But, eventually, we do fully part, our breaths a little shaken and mixing between us. There’s a vulnerability in his eyes, one I remember vividly during our talks of everything happening, losing his control on everything, his wife. I give him a small smile, before hugging him again, pressing my cheek gently to his as to not irritate it. “Why, Ms. Grimes, I do think you are sweet on lil’ ol’ me.”

“Mmmmm, why, Negan, you reckon?” I reply with a sarcastic falsetto to his teasing, enjoying being able to feel his low laughter rumble into my chest. “And ‘lil’ nothing, you are about half a foot taller than me, mister.” I pull back, pursing my lips to the side as he gives me a big grin, but not his usual one; this one is more goofy, more playful. It makes my heart feel funny. 

“Shit, I guess I am a blind motherfucker after all, you been hittin’ on me this entire time?” he teases, his tongue tip messing with his lower lip. I try hard not to focus on it and instead roll my eyes as I climb off of him. He goes to protest, his hands lingering on my arms, then slide down to my hands when I’m on my feet. “Wait, where you goin’? You just got here.” 

“I am not going anywhere, but you need rest and no pressure on that knee, as it wouldn’t be propped up if it wasn’t needing rest.” I grab a chair and haul it to right beside his bedside, then take one of his hands. “I am your guard, after all. Gotta keep you safe.” I wink at him, unconsciously drawing my lip between my teeth.

“Uh huh. And that’s why you needed to climb into my lap, make my dick hard enough to hammer in a fuckin’ nail, and then have the balls to be all soft ‘n sweet.” He shakes his head in fake exasperation, trying to not show how his lips are fighting to smile. “Goddamn, I ain’t got a guard, I got a master fuckin’ torturer with my name at the top of her ‘make it as painful as you fuckin’ can, maybe even nostril slitting if necessary’ list. My luck is both higher than a stoner with a weed forest and shittier than a stall with fifteen horses.” 

All I can do is laugh so hard I wheeze at his commentary. I had not been expecting his little speech, and God, I laugh so hard my lungs and chest ache. From what I can see through the tears in my eyes and my squinting, he’s more than happy at my reaction as over the buzz in my ears I can hear a laugh from him too. “Negan- I- what-” 

“Yeah, got your master-fucking-plan down, didn’t I? Figured you all out.” 

“Oh yeah, buddy, you got it,” I let out a few remaining guffaws, raising my hands in the air. “Got me all figured out, I admit to my crimes.”

“You are a lucky ass that I got room in my cell for someone else,” he says with a sigh and a shake of his head.

“Oh? Where am I sleeping in there? Your cot isn’t big enough for two.” He gives me a wicked grin.

“I make a mean fuckin’ mattress in every  sense, if you catch my meanin’, darlin’.” 

“Negan!”  

[kulaykape]

Chap. 1 of CONTRACT KILLER: Oc x Natasha Romanoff

I’m pretty sure this is gonna be the first fanfic I’ve ever posted, and I’m honestly wondering why it had to be one about everyone’s favorite insanely hot ginger (not complaining tho). 

This story isn’t meant to take itself too seriously. This first chap. is a bit of a slow start, but their relationship will get off the ground quickly from here, so don’t worry. Thank u, and enjoy! :P

Word Count: 2274

Summary: Jean Holiday is a paid mercenary known as Indigo. Or, in some other cases, ‘SHIELD’s Biggest Pain in the Ass’. And by extension of that, she’s Agent Natasha Romanoff’s biggest pain in the ass. 

Although she knows Romanoff is the last enemy she should be fraternizing with, Jean can’t help but to want to get to know her when she catches her at a bar. Romanoff, ignorant to the fact that this charming stranger is actually one of her most begrudged targets, slowly starts to let her into her life.

---Holiday Season---

Takes place a year before the events of 'The Avengers' in 2008.

---

"Agent Romanoff," Coulson greeted the assassin as the doors slid open, and in walked SHIELD's best. He'd called her early this morning, so there'd be less people to get in her way once she was released and sent off. After all, she'd need as much time for preparation as she could get for this next mission. 

"Coulson," Natasha replied with a nod, "So. Who is it today?" The assassin crossed her arms over her chest and flitted between Coulson and the hologram board. With an echoey click, an all too familiar masked face popped up on the screen. 

The Black Widow found herself staring down a black mask and golden-rimmed glasses that hid eyes that twinkled with amusement. It was a bit of a messy photo, since they'd only been able to capture it through Natasha's body cam on her last go-around with the target. 

Natasha let out a groan, and rolled her eyes. The source behind most of her headaches, and all three of her only failed missions' name was splayed offensively across the top of the board. 

Indigo. A mercenary for hire. There hadn't been a hit of her's anyone had managed to intervene. Due to such, she was officially one of SHIELD's most consistent and colossal pains in the ass. 

"How long have we been after her?" She asked. 

"Going on three years," Coulson replied, pursing his lips, "But our boys think they got an inkling on her. Her next target should be," the screen switched to a picture of a man, "James Wagner. The senator of Florida. You're familiar?" 

Natasha nodded. "Weren't there rape charges pressed against him just last year?" She recalled. 

"Correct. But they were dropped," Coulson replied, watching as the gears in Natasha's head turned. "Interesting, isn't it? None of Indigo's targets have hands bare of any blood. Allegedly, at least." Coulson took a file from the glass table and held it out to the assassin. 

"Allegedly," Natasha repeated as she started to skim through the folder. "Well, would you look at that," she drawled, "We know absolutely nothing more about her than we did three years ago." 

"Well, we did finally figure out she was female last year," Coulson said with a sardonic smile. 

Natasha snorted. "You finally figured out she was a female, Coulson," she said as she closed the folder. 

"Whatever," he quickly dismissed, "Anyways. Feel free to use whatever means that are necessary. Dead or alive, it doesn't matter." Coulson leaned forward and opened his mouth like he wanted to go on, but stopped himself short. 

Natasha raised a brow slowly. "And…?"

"I'd prefer her alive," Coulson said. 

"Of course you would."

"Look, it's your call. But you don't know. We might have another Black Widow on our hands," he said, smiling and giving her the 'huh, huh?' hand gesture like a car salesman. 

"In that case, guess I have to kill her," Natasha replied with a crooked smile, tucking the file away. No discount versions of herself would be crawling around SHIELD HQ. Not on her watch. "See you when I get back, Coulson."

"Be careful out there, Romanoff. And good luck."

---

The crowd was big enough that I was well-hidden, but not so large that I couldn't make my escape. Wagner was wrapping up his speech now, smiling and waving at his "fans" as he started down the steps. He'd just made another one of his empty promises to the state of Florida, calling for support and unity. Whether or not he intended to keep it this time around, nobody would ever know. 

Ten bodyguards surrounded him. My client had told me to use any means necessary to reach Wagner, but the bodyguards weren't the ones raping underage girls (hopefully). I'd already made a plan beforehand, and quickly went over it as Wagner and his guards neared the side of the parted crowd I was standing on. 

I suddenly became very aware of the knife in my jacket and the volatile smoke bombs tucked in my sleeve. They weighed heavily on my being, as if the objects of my assassination themselves were telling me to back off. Something was wrong. Someone who wasn't supposed to be here was here. 

It almost felt like I was the prey. 

But Wagner's eyes meeting mine snatched me from my doubts. I'd already pulled my mask and hood up, and assumed the identity of a killer. And he wasn't so stupid as to not recognize that. 

Wagner's eyes widened, and he opened his mouth to scream Bloody Mary at his bodyguards. I darted out from within the folds of the crowd, and threw the smoke bombs down. 

Enough smoke to obscure the entire block went up, and I flipped the fog vision of my glasses on. 

Screaming came from all directions, and the crowd turned near animalistic as it started to stampede away, all of them trying to escape the danger that the persona of Indigo could bring. 

The bodyguards yelled for Wagner and flailed around uselessly. I prowled up to one of them, and pulled him into a chokehold from behind. His body started to shake and jump, like his soul was trying to make its escape without the rest of him as he suffocated in silence. 

"Sorry, friend. Guess you're taking a pay cut," I whispered to him as I lowered his now-unconscious body to the ground. 

I made quick, methodical work of the rest of them in a similar fashion. The panic amongst them as their numbers dwindled steadily rose, and their yells for anyone who could hear them became more desperate as comrades were formulaically silenced. 

Now standing in the middle of the sea of burly bodies in fetal positions was Wagner himself. I didn't bother to quiet my footsteps now, and watched with a smile as he jumped away from the sound. 

"Thought you'd be running by now," I said, unsheathing my knife and letting that unmistakable sound of its reveal ring in the air. 

"Leave me alone!" Wagner screeched, "Leave me alone, you hear me?! You ruined my goddamn speech! You goddamn- ugh…!"

My curved blade had shot out from the smoke and found Wagner's chest. I put a hand on Wagner's shoulder like you would an old friend, and pulled him closer to me, and further up on the blade.

"Ugh…!" 

I clicked my tongue and shook my head. "Shouldn't have touched the girl, James," I whispered. I let the hilt of the blade go as Wagner's eyes went wide at the realization of why his fate had been sealed, and his body went limp with that final revelation. His body hit the ground with a 'thud', as heavy and unfeeling as he'd been in life. 

The assassination was complete. But the mission wouldn't be over until I'd completely evaded the law. 

I checked my watch. The smoke wouldn't completely lift for another minute or two. But there were advanced units around with fog vision goggles. I could make my way to the safe house without being followed, so long as I acted qui-

"There you are," a woman's gritty voice said behind me. Like a church hymn, I knew it immediately. 

Romanoff. 

I grinned underneath my mask. Of all the dogs SHIELD sent my way, she was always the best. No doubt, she'd force me to make a few changes to my escape plan. But if it meant a good spar, I was down. 

"It's been a minute, Romanoff," I said. Instead of a verbal reply, I got two gunshots sent my way. She could see me. 

I slipped my head to the side and watched the bullets whizz by, then turned to face Agent Romanoff. The smoke seemed to part for her as she launched herself at me, all red fury and SHIELD discipline. 

“I’m ready to finally settle the score if you are,” she said, a shadow of a smirk on her face, almost like she was having just as much fun as me. 

I made a face beneath my mask. “You’re down three, Agent,” I said in the tone you used with an idiotic little sibling. 

Her leg slammed into my arm as I blocked what could've been a rib-breaker. I shoved her back so the smoke enveloped her, but she bounced right back forward at me, not missing a beat. She whipped her leg out twice, beating down on my defense with full abandon. 

Every kick she sent my way was like a piston slamming into my body. Mechanical. Unfeeling. Sometimes it didn't matter if I blocked it, it still hurt like hell. 

“C’mon, you got anything new?” I asked as I ducked and weaved around her kicks and punches. 

Agent Romanoff took a break for herself after another kick only hit air, while I danced around like we were in a boxing match instead of a real-life fight. “You talk a lot,” she huffed in between ragged breaths. 

“Just trying to catch up with an old friend,” I said, raising my hands placatingly. 

“Ew.”

I heard the tell-tale sign of a gun being cocked, and weaved around three bullets as they made their way towards me. Black Widow soon followed after the bullets, coming for my neck with all the means to kill. 

I grunted and then chuckled as she kicked me squarely in the stomach, making me stagger back a good several feet. My breakfast nearly came up right then. 

The onslaught paused. "Surrender now, and I won't kill you," she warned. A red light flashed before my eyes, and I found a laser dot resting on my chest. 

"You know, that’s more of a friendly greeting to me nowadays," I said. She pulled the trigger in reply. I darted out of the way. But instead of the explosive bullet I expected, the projectile expanded into an electrical net. I guess she figured out by now that bullets to me were a drunk man's swings to Muhammad Ali. 

"Shit," I growled as I watched it expand, and pulled the wakizashi off my back to cut through it just in time to save my ass. 

But I didn't get away from it completely unscathed, as one of the energized ends of the net still brushed against the exposed skin on my wrist. My heart seemed to launch itself around my chest cavity, beating sporadically as I cried out to maintain myself. 

I threw the net away with a sweep of my short sword, and tried to regulate my heartbeat again. But Agent Romanoff wasn't about to allow me that convenience. 

A flash of black and red flew through the air, coming for my neck. A pair of legs wrapped around me, and started to squeeze the ever-living fuck out of my throat. I grasped at them with a desperate gasp, and made the mistake of dropping my sword. A thin, but solid cord joined Romanoff's legs, which she wrapped around my neck and pulled. My vision went dark at the ends, and I could feel that real, raw fight or flight instinct starting to creep up. I grabbed and clawed at her legs uselessly, and muttered out several, “shit, shit, shit”s. 

“You gonna tap?” Agent Romanoff taunted, as if me tapping would bring mercy. I choked out a muffled “fuck you” against the kevlar and leather of her suit. 

Not gonna lie, suffocating between Black Widow's thighs wouldn't have been a terrible way to go out. But I was determined to get that paycheck I was promised. 

I felt Agent Romanoff yank me around as she tried to slam me into the ground, where I'd all but have my fate sealed if it were to happen. With a laboring burst of strength, I let out a growl and reared back, then slammed Romanoff into the ground. I heard her wheeze as the wind completely exited her body. 

In a moment of weakness not unlike my own, Romanoff was completely open to a killing strike as she struggled for air. I didn't give her any grace, instead closing my fingers around her throat. As her eyes widened and she grasped at my hand, I unsheathed the knife in my left hand, where it sat dangerously close to Romanoff's right side. 

"I really should kill you," I said in a tone that was more for asking what she wanted for dinner than threatening homicide.

Even as she stared one of death's finest agents in the face, her blood dribbling down her forehead and drops of mine landing on her brow, Agent Romanoff remained defiant. Emerald green eyes narrowed and glared harshly at me. 

"Then do it."

I shook my head, the decision made before I’d even said anything. 

In one swift movement, I flipped my knife around and jabbed her twice with the hilt, right in her liver. Even the world's best assassin couldn't go against her body. And the body wasn't going to get up after a liver shot. 

I stood up and watched as Agent Romanoff cried out, then folded in on herself from the pain. 

"Anticlimactic, huh?" I said as I twirled my knife twice before sheathing it, "That was fun, Agent Romanoff. I'll see you next time." She replied with a pained groan, and continued to writhe on the ground amongst the bodyguards I’d taken out before. 

And with that, I hastily made my escape. I could hear the law approaching now, but once they got here, all they'd find was a bruised and defeated Black Widow. 

The score was now Natasha Romanoff: 0, and Jean Holiday: 4.

[parkeraul]

Can you recommend me series??

of course! there are no specific orders, they’re the series i’m currently reading and also my fav ones - just listing by the way i started reading.

1st: routines by @shavvnmcndcs it’s a sugardaddy!shawn x reader series and it’s absolutely amazing. the way she writes gets you so involved that you can barely notice where u are after you’re done reading, it literally makes you fly to a whole another world and UGH it makes you go more and more thirsty after you finish each chapter. also, the DOM!SHAWN KIND OF SMUT? YEAH GET YOUR ASS PREPARED FOR IT BECAUSE IT’S HOTTER THAN HELL. the details are so good, like, they’re not there for just description— they build the scenario entirely and you can notice that there’s a hard work of the writer to provide all the atmosphere you need to experience this fic like your life depends on it. idk ‘bout you but mine actually does. 

2nd: you flower, you feast by @sauveteen​ & @shawnjpeg okay listen LISTEN L I S T E N i’m a complete hoe for this series and i’m not even kidding. seriously. whenever i read it, i find myself bending over in my imagination because LORD JESUS this is so well written. it’s shawn x oc (noora rao, the queen of everything) and let’s take a brief minute to discuss it over before moving on. i kinda wanna be a part of this damn thing of theirs because they’re both the loves of my life. everytime shawn says “noor” i feel like passing out and this is serious shit. it’s so enticing, you can literally hear him purr her name in your head and they’re so stubborn and they’ll tease each other (and u too) until everyone’s drooling and begging for something to happen. it’s addicting, that’s the word. i feel like the way they write is very poetical (???? idk if this is the right word) but it’s delightful to devour every single word and action. there’s no hurry, it’s written with calm and precision, it’s a unique sensation i can’t properly describe. i personally hate to read bc i suck at focusing (not even god knows how i became an actress) but it’s a fucking pleasure to save a little time to read the chapters. the relationship between shawn and noora is something very unique and i love the way they mean so much to each other even though they’re not prepared to say it out loud yet. this is the fic where you read and think “omg shawn would totally do that” — specially the ‘a train goes chu chu chu, noor goes chut, chut chut’ thing, i’m so obsessed with it i’m literally tweeting about this series nonstop. 

3rd: stuck together by @sauveteen​ & @bluerrosesit’s also a shawn x oc workshawn and nadine you both owe me therapy sessions. their relationship is basically goals. i’m not done yet, i’m still going through the chapters but it’s impossible to avoid falling in love with them— specially nadine. i love how she acts around him, i love their friendship because it’s not that hurried thing like “okay, she likes him so i’m gonna make him like her all of a sudden and let’s pretend they were friends at some point.” they’re very partners in crime and the writers invites you to understand their feelings for each other and how they develop so beautifully. i really really like it. also, everytime shawn says “nads” my heart just melts. i can clearly see him pouting while calling her by the nickname. 

4th: because of you by @particulataste​ good badboy!shawn content, my dude. it’s shawn x oc (badass lola) and i’m dying for the day they’ll get along lol. if shawn is bold, then lola can effortlessly beat the shit outta him and stand out. she’s very cute, ngl, but i also like how she doesn’t let anyone tell her what to do or how to be, no matter who they are— she literally let her father HAVE IT, spilling the tea shamelessly. she fights to earn what she wants and i really want her to have the world in her hands bc she deserves it. also, if shawn ever disappoints her through the series, i might hunt him down and kick his ass. 

in general, about all the fics: the common thing between them that makes me get so passionated is that none of them goes cliché. you truly don’t know what to expect because your hopes are going to be pushed over the edge. they’ve got singular characteristics that makes them all outshine somehow— since the theme they’re being based on from to the way they write. if you like their stuff, please give them feedbacks and reblog to help out a writer. 

[kiralaufeyson84]

Bakugou Katsuki × Hinata Aki (a MHA oc) (LEMON)

❗WARNING!!!❗

This is fanfiction involving a new oc of mine and Bakugou contains:

-Sexual content

-Cursing

-C'mon it's a lemon-

With that out of they way, ENJOY!!

It's been 2 years since Aki became Mrs. Bakugou. She has the week off thanks to Katsuki. But Aki felt lonely and sometimes very horny. She did something no one she knew would dare. She took off her black lace panties and very hesitantly inserted her middle finger in her entrance of her *AHEM* pussy. She moaned softly. She's felt her husband's cock, tongue and fingers before but her fingers kind of felt much more better.

Aki continued to do this until Friday. That afternoon, when Katsuki was at work as #1 pro hero (he earned his spot), Aki started to do her daily masturbation, starting off by rubbing the inside of her pussy (idk if it's called the clit or not- I forgot-) and started moaning softly. Then, the moans got a bit louder, but then bedroom door opened and standing in the doorway was Katsuki Bakugou, Aki's husband. All she could manage to get out of her mouth was "U-Uh..."

She then covered her bare naked pussy and stammered "K-Kacchan! W-w-what are you doing here so early? Y-you're shift doesn't end until 4:39 PM! It's 1:10 PM! You could've called me and said you were coming home so early! You- Uh-"

Then, Katsuki smirked and chuckled a bit. He got on the bed and said "Hey, sweet cheeks. Who told you you could stop?" Soon, Aki was sitting on Katsuki's lap. "C'mon, Princess," Katsuki said. "I wanna see you touch yourself real good~" Aki just looked at Katsuki. Then, before she could say anything, Katsuki grabbed her hand and started to move it to Aki's pussy. "Do you want me to help or do you want my cock instead?" Katsuki asked in a rather sexy voice (who am I kidding his voice is always sexy).

Aki sighed and said "You've turned me into a pervert, Katsuki." Katsuki just chuckled. Then, Aki continued to rub the inside of her pussy. "Ahh~" she moaned softly. "Alright, now put a finger in you~" Katsuki demanded. Aki didn't dare fight back amd say no. Besides, it felt good. So, she stuck her middle finger in her entrance and started to move her finger a bit. She moaned a bit softly until Katsuki started to kiss and bite her neck. "Fuck," he whispered in Aki's ear. "You're just to seductive today. I can't help but touch you."

Katsuki the started to play with Aki's breasts. She started moaning a bit louder. She then starting to thrust her finger in and out a bit faster than before. She moaned loudly. "Hah...You're so close, aren't you, you fucking sexy kitten?~" Katsuki asked while panting a bit. "Y-yeah! I think I'm gonna cum!" Aki stated. She reached her climax when Katsuki started to bite her neck again. Then, Katsuki was playing with Aki's breasts a bit more rough. That's when Aki completely lost it and moaned "AAAHHH! KACCHAN!!~"

Aki came so much that some got on the bed. "You did a real good job, baby girl," Katsuki said as he went to touch Aki's pussy. "Would you look at that?" he said while sticking his middle finger in Aki's pussy. "Yeah you came a lot tonight." He then took his finger out and licked a bit of the cum off his finger while saying "Fuck how do youand manage to be a mess yet still be sexy?" Aki just blushed from what her husband told her. She then got off Katsuki's lap and noticed that Katsuki (obviously) got a boner. Katsuki looked at his wife and asked "What the hell are you-"

Then, he got cut off when Aki kissed him. Katsuki kissed back and started to use tongue. Aki moaned softly in the kiss. She then stopped kissing Katsuki and smirked. "So? You gonna take your pants off or what?" she said to her husband. Katsuki just blushed but then smirked. "Isn't it only appropriate if YOU take my pants off?" Aki stared at Katsuki and Katsuki stared right back. "I guess you're right," Aki finally said. She started to unzip Katsuki's pants. After she took them off, she noticed that her husband wasn't wearing any underwear. This totally caught her off guard because usually Katsuki would wear underwear.

Aki then shrugged it off and started to suck on Katsuki's cock. He groaned in pleasure of course. Aki then decided to tease her husband by licking the tip. "Hah...A-Aki..." Katsuki moaned. Aki smirked when her husband called her name. She barely gets to hear the pleasure most of the time in Katsuki's voice during sex. Then, since Katsuki forgot to close the bedroom door, Kirishima and Kaminari just stood in the doorway not knowing what was going on. "Hey Baku-" Kirishima started but then stopped to see Aki sucking Katsuki's cock.

Kaminari started to wonder how long it would take them to notice that Kirishima and him were there. It took about 2 minutes when Aki stopped sucking and turned around. She shrieked and got the blanket of the bed to cover herself. "DIDN'T YOU MOTHERFUCKERS EVER LEARN TO FUCKING KNOCK?!" Katsuki shouted.

Kaminari started to laugh a bit. Kirishima started chuckling. "What the fuck are you basterds looking at?" Katsuki said. He then remembered he was pantless. So he grabbed a pillow and covered his cock. (Jk we all know he would yell something like the angry Pomeranian he is-)

"QUIT STARTING!!" Katsuki demanded. But then he remembered that Aki had her breats a bit exposed which Aki forgot too. Katsuki the covered Aki's breasts with a pillow. "DIDN'T YOU EVER LEARN TO RESPECT WOMEN?!" Katsuki shouted. Aki was not happy with Kirishima and Kaminari. "You two have no respect for women at all," Aki said. This shocked all three of the boys. Katsuki then said "Heh. You know what's right." "Well I learn from the best," Aki replies with a smile. Katsuki smirked. Aki then spoke up and said "So what do u need?" Kirishima then said "Me and Denki were gonna go to this new bar down the street. You wanna come?" "Well me and Katsuki are actually trying to have kids so polite pass," Aki replied. "You heard her. The answer's no. NOW GET OUT OF OUR HOUSE!!" Katsuki said as his quirk started to activate. Kirishima and Kaminari ran out the bedroom. When Katsuki finally got his attention back on Aki, Aki was actually fast asleep.

Katsuki smiled and kissed Aki's forehead before snuggling up with her.

END

(Fine here's something)

~~~BONUS END~~~

The next day, after Aki woke up, she didn't feel to well. She got up and walked to the bathroom but she started vomiting once she got there. She rushed over to the toilet to properly vomit. She accidentally woke Katsuki up. "Aki what the he-" Katsuki stopped mid sentence. He bent down to Aki and rubbed her back.

"You ok?" he asked. Aki nodded. "I'm probably just getting sick," she said. 8 weeks later, Aki's stomach started to grow a bit. She talked to her good friends Momo Yaoyrozu and Tsuyu Asui (well now Tsuyu Tokoyami) and told them her situation. Momo started squealing. Aki asked Tsuyu why Momo was squealing. Then Tsuyu replied with "You're pregnant. This happened to me when I found out I was pregnant."

Aki couldn't believe it. She and Katsuki were gonna be parents. Before she went home, she grabbed pregnancy tests to double check. When she got home, she really had to go to the bathroom which was good because that means she didn't have to wait. After she took the pregnancy test, the results were positive. She started tearing up and went downstairs to tell Katsuki.

Katsuki was playing Grand Theft Auto 5. Aki hugged Katsuki and Katsuki asked why she hugged him. Aki then showed her husband the pregnancy test and Katsuki was to in shock to believe it. "Is...Is this a prank?" he asked. "Why would you think that?! No it's not a prank! Kacchan. I'm pregnant!" Aki replied. Katsuki hugged Aki and Aki hugged back. Then Katsuki said "It kinda made sense since you were craving a lot of spicy things and you were started to grow a baby bump." "Wow way to kill the mood," Aki replied jokingly. Now she and Bakugou have a little one on the way.

(Hey guys this is my first Lemon. I'm sorry if it's bad-)

[maybe-iam-awriter]

Choices Ch. 4

Pairing: Sweet Pea x Reader

Word Count: 2346

Warning(s): Hospital, Southside violence, bad writing

Summary: Being Reggie’s little sister wasn’t easy already. But being his sister and not agreeing with his hate towards the Southside was nearly impossible. Tensions are rising and Y/N needs to make some choices that could change her life drastically.

A/N: Sorry thought I would get this up yesterday but here it is! I also thought I would try writing in a different POV. Idk if i like it but it fits more with how I want to tell the story so I guess it will work for now. 

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Riverdale but I do own the OCs and the story is mine. I do not post anywhere but on this profile so if you see my stuff anywhere else let me know!

Side Note: If it seems like something in my fic is not mine or of original canon let me know! I don’t want to step on anyone’s toes!

------------------------------------------------------

One |Two | Three

Reggie and his friends jumped into action as you hit the ground.

“Y/N” He screamed your name trying to wake you up. That’s when he noticed the blood pooling below you. A shard of glass must have hit you when the windows exploded but no one noticed. FP picked you up and rushed you to the cruiser outside. While this whole mess was happening around you, another mess was taking place at the Whyte Wyrm.

“I can’t just sit here” Sweet Pea said as he tried to walk out. Jughead was there to push him back.

“You don’t have a choice, Sweet Pea, you’re staying put.” He just pushed Jughead away from him before glaring.

“You said it yourself, the Ghoulies are back” His heart wouldn’t stop racing. Another person he knew was hurt. He didn’t know how a Northsider, hell a Mantle, got under his skin but, you did. The young Jones didn’t want to listen to Sweet Pea’s call to action.

“We will deal with them” Jughead looked around him. “As soon as my dad gets back-”

“Oh, so you’re not our leader all of a sudden?” Sweet Pea bit back at the Serpent Prince. ‘Oh, no, that’s right, you’re just the guy who got Fangs Shot!”

“Watch it…” Jughead tried to defend himself but Sweet Pea was getting too worked up now.

“And now, Fangs might die! And the Ghoulies are out for our blood because a drag race you started.” He got into Jughead’s face while poking his chest.

“An hour. That’s all I’m asking for, Sweet Pea.” Jughead pleaded with the taller serpent. Sweet Pea just turned to walk away but not without slamming his fist into the wall. He was stuck here while Fangs was fighting for his life. Hell, he didn’t even know if Y/N was alive at all. Sweet Pea was just itching for Ghoulie blood. All Sweet Pea could do to distract himself was play pool. He was pocketing shot after shot in complete frustration. He saw Jughead rush out of the bar and scoffed. He’s not sure how long it was before he returned with Toni and Cheryl. Jughead explained what had happened with Peabody and the Ghoulies.

“It’s time we end the Ghoulie scourge and that Traitor, Penny Peabody permanently!” Sweet Pea was fed up with his friends getting hurt. Fangs, Y/N, and now Toni. He was done.

“Sweet Pea, two hours ago your fight was with Reggie Mantle. Now you want us to go to war over territory that we don’t even control anymore? This is Hiram Lodge’s problem not ours.” Jughead yelled back at Sweet Pea.

“So you’re just gonna hand over Sunnyside Trailer Park, our home to Penny and the Ghoulies?” Toni stood up outraged at what Jughead was proposing.

“Toni, I don’t want us to die.” Jughead pleaded with the female serpent. “A rumble with the Ghoulies right now? It’s a suicide-run”

“It’s better than a coward’s death.” Sweet Pea stood by Toni. The boys started talking over each other. Sweet Pea was calling for us to defend themselves while Jughead was trying to calm the taller serpent.

“That’s enough!” FP’s voice rang through the Whyte Wyrm. He walked towards the fighting teens. “I just got a call from the sheriff’s office. Fangs uh” He paused and looked at the crowd. “He didn’t make it. He’s gone.” An air of disbelief hung around the gang.

“Fangs is dead?” Jughead questioned his dad. FP nodded.

“And we will mourn him, hell yea, we will. But first, we will honor him. From what I just heard, it sounds like we need to put it to a vote. All those against going to war with the Ghoulies?” No one lifted a finger. “And all those for giving them hell on the battlefield tomorrow?” Almost everyone’s hands went to the air. Jughead just glared at his father but, it was decided; the Serpents were going to war.

Sweet Pea took the first chance he got to jump on his bike and head to the Hospital. Bulldogs were everywhere but he was only looking for one Northsider. He tried not to think of Fangs. Sweet Pea was on a mission and he couldn’t be distracted by grief. The receptionist looked up as he approached the desk.

“I’m looking for a patient. Well I don’t know if she’s here, I just know she was hurt so I’m hoping…” He started rambling.

“What’s her name?” The receptionist asked with pity in her voice. He clenched his fist and took a deep breath.

“Y/N, uh Mantle, Y/N Mantle.”

“Her room is 203.” Sweet Pea rushed towards the room with his heart in his throat. He was so in his head about Y/N he didn’t notice that some of the bulldogs in the waiting room heard him and texted Reggie. he was already outside your room waiting for the Serpent to show up.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing here?” Reggie sneered at him. Sweet Pea had to calm himself down.

“Look, I’m not here to fight. I heard about Y/N and just wanted to make sure she’s okay.” Reggie just scoffed at him.

“She doesn’t need you checking in on her. I don’t know how you heard about her but you need-”

“I was on the phone with her when she passed out. I couldn’t come earlier but I’m here now. I just need to know that she’s okay” Sweet Pea cut the bulldog off. Reggie stared at him for a while debating what he should do.

“She took a shard of glass to the side. We didn’t notice and she lost a lot of blood.”

“How’d you not notice?!”

“You were on the phone with her! She didn’t even notice, okay!” Reggie turned around and slammed his fist into the wall. “It’s not my fault” He whispered. Sweet Pea calmed down after seeing him like this. It was clear that the jock was already beating himself up.

“What do the doctors say?”

“They did surgery to repair her spleen or whatever. She’ll make it. Her body is trying to make up for the lost blood so she’s sleeping right now. Been asleep the whole time, hasn’t woken up. Doctor says it’s normal but…” Reggie trailed off before realizing who he was talking to. “You know now, so get the hell out and leave Y/N alone. This just proves that she doesn’t need to get mixed up with Southside scum.”

“The Serpents didn’t do this, it was the Ghoulies.” Sweet Pea defended. No way would he be blamed for what happened to Y/N.

“Serpents, Ghoulies, does it matter? A Southsider still put her in the hospital.” Reggie sneered at him before walking into your room and shutting the door. Sweet Pea threw his own fist to the wall. Hearing his own words thrown at him by Reggie had his stomach sinking low. He needed to feel more in control, so he left to the one place that felt like home.

All Sweet Pea could do to keep a level head and forget all the shit he had experienced today was to play pool. They started playing for cigarettes and whatever else people would bet. He lost himself in the game. That was until FP interrupted them.

“Toni, Where was Penny hiding out?”

“By the docks.” Toni told their leader quickly. FP rushed out of the bar in an instant and jumped on his bike. Everyone was at a loss. Sweet Pea thought it was useless but he decided to call Y/N anyways. He sighed as he heard your voicemail. As he hung up, he received a text message.

Princess: Hey, sorry, Reggie is here. U alright?

Sweets: I mean you’re the one laying in a hospital bed. Shouldn’t I be asking you that?

Princess: I’m fine. Dr. said I just need to rest. I’m also really doped up right now. Can’t feel a thing! 

Sweet Pea couldn’t help but laugh at your response. He ignored everyone’s stares as he typed his reply.

Sweets: Glad to hear you’re okay. I tried stopping by but your brother was there. He told me you hadn’t woken up yet right before telling me to GTFO.

Princess: UGH, stupid Reggie. I’m sorry, hey maybe you can sneak in later! He says he has stuff to still take care of tonight.

Sweets: I’d love to. Hey GTG, hopefully cya later.

Sweet Pea put his phone away as he heard a car pull up. He, Toni, and Cheryl met Archie and Betty outside of the Wyrm. FP had been gone for a while now and everyone was on edge.

“Where is he? Where’s Jug?” Betty instantly asked as she saw the Serpents.

“Guys…” Archie directed everyone’s attention to an approaching FP. He came out carrying his beaten son. Jughead hung in his arms lifeless. It only took one look at his upper arm to see who did this because in place of where his serpent tattoo should have been was a bloody wound. Everyone was in shock as FP placed him in Archie’s car and raced to the hospital. It was the third time in a span of hours that Sweet Pea was on his bike rushing to the hospital hoping his friend would live.

Serpents filled the waiting room along with the bulldogs now. In all honesty, Sweet Pea was so close to breaking down. First Fangs, then Y/N, Toni turned out okay but for a second there he wasn’t sure, and now Jughead. Sure, Jughead and him didn’t see eye to eye but they were Serpents; a family.

“First you invade our streets, then our schools, our homes are in flames and you think you can just walk in here.” An unnamed bulldog started getting in the Serpent’s faces.

“Hey, back off, we all have people we care about in here.” Archie stood in between the rivals. “Is Y/N/N still here?”

“Yeah, will be here overnight. Reggie is in there now saying good night. We’ll probably head over to his to keep him company.” The bulldog responded. The tension in the air diffused enough for the Northsiders to back away.

“Wait, Y/N/N, as in Y/N?” Archie nodded at Sweet Pea. “All these bulldogs are here for her?”

“Yeah, we all grew up with the Mantles. Y/N is like a little sister to all of us.” His voice had a slight warning in them. FP walked into the waiting room and the teens went to meet him.

“He’s in surgery. It doesn’t look good.” FP collapsed in a chair and sobbed. The kids didn’t know what to do. His son’s life hung in the balance and they were just expected to wait. Out of the corner of his eye, Sweet Pea saw the bulldogs leave with Reggie. He waited another moment before heading towards Y/N’s room. He knocked on the door.

“Come in.” Sweet Pea entered. “Sweets! I was just about to text you!” Her face lit up when she saw him.

“Hey, Princess” He walked towards the empty chair by her bedside. “I was in the waiting room and I saw Reggie leave so I thought it was safe.”

“Of course, you’re probably waiting to hear about Fangs!” She said innocently. “How is he?” It was then that she noticed Sweet Pea’s tense posture. He wouldn’t look at her either. “Sweets?”

“He uh, FP told us that, well he…” He avoided saying the words but Y/N understood right away. Sweet Pea’s head snapped up as he heard Y/N yelp in pain. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, I was just trying to sit up so I could hug you but these stupid stitches won’t let me!” She  groaned in frustration. He went to help her sit up in the bed.

“Yeah, we got the news earlier. Things have been stirring up with the Ghoulies. I won’t go into too much detail but Jughead thought it was a good idea to play the sacrificial lamb. He’s the reason why we were in the waiting room.” Sweet Pea started to ramble. He was cut off when Y/N’s hand landed on his forearm.

“I’m sorry, Sweet Pea. I really am. I hope Jughead is alright.” She smiled at the Serpent.

“I just want this night to be over with.” He leaned his head on the bed next to her lap. On instinct, Y/N started running her hand through his hair. The big bad serpent just leaned further into her touch.

“Me too. They said that I could probably go home tomorrow afternoon depending on labs and all that medical talk.” Sweet Pea hummed in response. “Are you falling asleep on me, Sweets?”

“No, next to you, Princess.” He mumbled. Y/N scooted over slightly.

“Come up here then” She patted the open space next to her. Sweet Pea was gonna argue but he took one look at her face and just sighed.

He crawled in right by her and swung his arm around her head. She placed her head on his chest without thinking. Neither of them could believe that they were in this position now. It was only a handful of days ago that they had their first conversation. It all came down to two facts: Y/N needed someone and Sweet Pea needed to be needed right now. They were like that for a few minutes before Sweet Pea got the courage to break the silence.

“This issue with the Ghoulies has become worse. They’ve always been a thorn in our side but…” he took a deep breath before continuing, “tomorrow morning Serpents and Ghoulies are going to war. I want this to happen I do but, we’ve-I’ve lost so much already. I don’t know if I’m ready to lose more.” Y/N looked up at him to see his eyes closed and head tilted back.

“Hey, everything’s gonna be okay. Let’s just get through tonight alright?” He nodded at her. Neither one of them wanted to break the peace that settled in the room because the truth was, they didn’t know if they were ready to face tomorrow.

Five

Tags:

@sailorsolar12

[astral-glass]

H i! Got any advice for someone who's late to the fandom and wants to create/rp a 10th-Class OC?

Hey there! I’ll try my best!The most IMPORTANT thing about making a fan-character (in this case, a tenth class) is having fun!! No matter what!! Please allow yourself to break the rules and enjoy yourself!

One thing that I look for in other tenth classes (aka when I wiggle into the tag and scope out the new ideas) is development, both when it comes to character and function. This means that a great tenth class is one with an understandable game role (and possibly a description of theoretical gameplay) and a well-rounded story and personality. 

Luckily, roleplay helps a tooon with development (Avi grew up in the rp community lmao), so be ready to have your oc change! That happens and it’s usually good!

Try to keep your character well rounded, flawed and strong, and tf2-esque (but mine is a pink alien bird so don’t worry too much). 

Here are some general short and sweet points so I don’t write an essay:

- Being accurate to the 1970s is great but you don’t have to! Hell, there’s aliens, wizards, hyper-advanced australia, and life metal. Also earbuds. It’s your world squirrel

- Don’t let anyone tell u that ur oc is ‘cringe’ or ‘bad’. Maybe they need work, maybe they aren’t done. But that doesn’t mean that you should ever be ashamed of them! Love ur bby

- No matter their gender or body type, please have your character be physically strong (unless u have a good excuse). These mercs fight and kill almost every day, so your oc won’t have the muscular capacity of a 16 year old who was never pressured to join sports. Please. Make them strong. Also they gotta be okay with…ya know…murder. Toughen up ur cookie

- Also please….please for the love of God…don’t make your oc super young. I’m talking like, 20s and above p l e a s e. It’s a personal pet peeve perhaps, but most of the team are 30s and up and it would be a lot more…fitting to make your character older than just outta highschool. I’m begging u,,

- Give them a bird head. Do it. They have to have a bird. It’s valve law

- Try to warm yourself up to critique. I know that I still get sad when people criticize my work, but I am working on taking it more maturely. It’s really important to share your character and get feedback!!

- TELL THE WORLD ABOUT THEM UNTIL THEIR NAME IS KNOWN

- Make them gay….nah I’m jk, make your character whoever you want and don’t feel pressured by anyone to make them a certain way

[aiweirdness]

Insufficient data may not compute, but it still loves you.

I train neural networks to imitate real-life human things, from fortune cookies to  to Harry Potter fan fiction to guinea pig names. Unlike traditional computer programming where a human programmer makes up rules that the program has to follow, when I train a neural network, I only have to give it the dataset - and the neural network makes its own rules.

The neural network always tries its best, but sometimes it has trouble figuring out what’s going on. One frequent problem: insufficient data.

When I train a neural network, it needs to see lots of examples before it can form a general rule about it. Otherwise, the best it can do is to memorize each individual example. This is why neural network researchers like really big datasets - and many of the neural network’s most realistic results (craft beers, metal bands, names of stories) have happened when I had tens or hundreds of thousands of examples in my dataset.

Here’s what happens when there is not nearly enough data.

A while ago, I trained a neural network to generate pick-up lines. The results ended up being oddly charming in a weird sort of way, since there wasn’t enough data for the neural network to pick up on the terrible puns and wordplay. Prof. Amita Kapoor of the University of Delhi contacted me, saying she would collect some better-quality romantic lines for me - and she sent me 100 of the most flowery romance lines you could imagine, lines from Shakespeare to classic Indian epics, lines like “Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?” and “Love, like the magic of wild melodies, Let your soul answer mine across the seas.”

They were flowery, but there weren’t nearly enough of them, and when I trained a big-brained neural network (512 neurons per layer) to generate them, it was so smart that it quickly learned to memorize the lines and spit them back (slightly garbled) at me.

Love, oh, love is flome is night, only light. And if my love could grow wings, I'd be soaring in fain

My fading face lights up when you look at me, and my physicians think this ailitilu hour or two - is gone.

Shall I compare thee to a summer's day? Thou art more lovely and pleasant than a bright summer day

I am not interested in being a star. I just want to be wond.

So, I tried to handicap the neural network by turning off some of its neurons during training. It’s a technique called “dropout”, and the idea is that to memorize a long phrase, a neural network has to have a bunch of neurons working together in a Rube Goldberg-style mechanism. Knock a bunch of neurons out at random, though, and the neural network has to resort to simpler, more general rules that only depend on a few neurons at a time. No more memorization, in theory.

A dropout of 0.5 (50% of the neurons knocked out at random) slowed the neural network down a bit, but didn’t stop it from memorizing entire phrases.

And love will last as pure and whole As when he love is life and mere, And put your harsher moods and starry skies.

What the hell is with me always, wherever I go.

A hoppy farther with the dawning soul.

TAKE, O take those lips away week you roaming? O, danker is wonderful, but you can't curl up with it on a cold night.

So I decided to be harsher. I tried a dropout of 0.8 instead. At any given time during the training, 80% of the network’s neurons are completely nonfunctional, and it doesn’t know in advance which 80%. Furthermore, I restricted its memory to only 15 characters at a time (a couple of words, no more).

That did the trick. The neural network had a much harder time.

Lehed wres deer than ghon the deer the seing bite; souit the weent witite: I fot and done I ghimh thos the seosd.

I af thot sra hoire and that ghot i romer to kron o faith the seyees co ler me In hoald gotlelt, as nise, A ou morer in beeralom is mooud worl the cowe, wo mace tho haw roy note, I your che pin' goisid, it roriru, bu cimh fous otey thet thas dosl oc my love an yiut, pawk nive.

Ats the worg, wu rive dy cotesilg, And you one I co lhe I on tire lovel the love re nhen.

I let it try for longer.

The that sondl with her that the osle thar srash, Yau srave, the your is ond the krith me whend is thouth the thon wotk fha lenl, of love, The that the ass hee sraand, The sarl of love ass a dann, I conkd in me whot wyerh hes in  ilshong, To buon vomer the bangs of the lragiog feay...

I tote co that the your whame wirh you love my sins u dose your i khour af the mesatif.

And longer.

Fouly laved love ass wonl and mome the basy . of pald wores to bann at mesk the whes you hound sore.

I darfer worr at is is fongitgh, worlhing of where of hire and woold and thon the klom datkire as love it thit that I sheat cath the nreeser wosd it In the bner beekrern and morrsaren, What and mering of the mire the sweat love of your donetise fart, py the ward nor the will is whotever me broye

Litht, bot is phising srich and to brang the dawrted, O hove ar came and samile, I lret.

And longer.

The wanging som shongh my wisging thote, I cowner to the nights and made the gatttir to lise it wore you your live, I hal, derans, My that slang her mefe.

I he would your love;

By love, my day, To canger worrd ase voud on love.

Finally, it was clear that I had slowed the neural network down just a bit too much. The only relevant word it had managed to consistently spell was “love”. (Well, “fart” too, but I’m beginning to expect that of a neural network)

I tried again with the same harsh dropout settings and short memory, but this time instead of giving the neural network letters to work with, I used this framework that lets it use syllables as its building blocks. It learned more words! Everything is words now!

if dreams the is is the love love and in are., the our than of shall with to love in that would bounded o with the who thee mine help nor alive the it, day, charms of is love and youth the to sweet nor have as that fair a my to that starry me have never, star were grave it, and and both, one i to the you and the are love the with re the, i my of prov of but it some on ter have from love t so joy at from your side hands some not bring about of your spir!

I’m not sure this is where we want to be, but at least it sounds happy.

Even if the neural network never did learn to be both original and coherent with this tiny dataset, all was not lost! In fact, it got to help write an actual opera.

Its first weird attempts turned out to be exactly what Klara Kofen of the Waste Paper Opera Company of Birmingham, England needed for the voice of an android, taught to speak by a lonely inventor.

The neural network’s lines such as

I dist love, Whatever fockle tongues may say.

My love it flomy pass to be human.

Might I starl with the dawning soul.

A haul, I frow it sture and in wenther do I remember my faithfulness, now I remember my faithfulness, now I remember my faithfulness, now I remember my faithfulness, now I remember my faithfulness, now I remember my faithfulness, now I remember my faithfulness, now I remember my faithfulness, now I remember my faithfulness…

and more, are now set to music in ‘i’ The Opera, the first-ever opera that features neural network programming. Read a review here, and watch the whole thing performed at the Tête à Tête opera festival here.

[image: The Android (Anna Palmer) and The Inventor (Benjamin Kane). Photography by Claire Shovelton]

[yeoldontknow]

Wings

Author’s Note: lord i didnt think id be writing this so soon but ive been so soft (tm) and pcy has been doing the most(tm) so here we are i guess. this is the first part of his Did You See story. im weak as hell lmao Pairing: Chanyeol x Reader (oc; female) Summary: Chanyeol is your best friend and travel buddy. Everywhere you go, he falls a little bit more in love with you. Eventually, he tells you why he goes everywhere with you - just you.  Genre: fluff; angst Rating: PG-13 Warnings: some swearing Word Count: 5,356

Yeolo sent a Photo Yeolo[12:04 AM]: LOOK!!! YN[12:05 AM]: this is shockingly neat YN[12:06 AM]: im stunned Yeolo[12:06 AM]: :< Yeolo[12:07 AM]: i am neat :< YN[12:08 AM]: youre like… YN[12:09 AM]: slightly organized chaos Yeolo[12:10 AM] - Message sent with Confetti: CHAOS

Yeolo[12:11 AM]: do you like how i rolled my shirts ! YN[12:12 AM]: im mostly impressed with how fucking many you fit in there Yeolo[12:13 AM]: WELL!! Yeolo[12:14 AM]: you know different shirts for different moods… Yeolo[12:14 AM]: weather YN[12:15 AM]: IS THAT WHAT I THINK IT IS?? Yeolo[12:15 AM]: WAT WAT YN sent a Photo with Mark Up Yeolo[12:16 AM]: YES YES THE HOODIE HE IS COMING YN[12:17 AM]: I AM STEALING HIM ON DAY 2 AND YOU WILL NEVER SEE HIM AGAIN Yeolo[12:18 AM]: *frowns loudly* he YN[12:19 AM] - Message sent with Celebration: his butt is mine Yeolo[12:20 AM]: do you still heave beat it in your head from JDs party???? YN[12:21 AM]: listen if i have to suffer with it YN[12:21 AM]: you have to suffer with me Yeolo[12:22 AM]: yikes YN[12:24 AM]: are you taking any converters? Yeolo[12:24 AM]: yeah you can use mine YN[12:25 AM]: yay! Yeolo[1:06 AM]: are you nervous? Yeolo[1:07 AM]: wait are you up Yeolo[1:08 AM]: im nervous but idk why YN[1:09 AM]: im up. i wouldnt say im nervous weve done this a million times YN[1:10 AM]: i just dont like flying very much Yeolo[1:11 AM]: no one really likes flying Yeolo[1:12 AM]: but ill hold your hand the whole time YN[1:13 AM] - Message sent with Love: u Yeolo[1:13 AM] - Message sent with Fireworks: me Yeolo[1:15 AM]: can i come over? Yeolo[1:16 AM]: i sleep better next you YN[1:17 AM]: you haven't needed to ask for 5 years don't be a goose YN[1:18 AM]: but yes im too excited to sleep anyway Yeolo[1:19 AM]: ill bring my shit so we can just go to the airport together YN[1:20 AM]: key is under the mat. im getting your fave blanket out of the closet Yeolo[1:21 AM]: !!!! Yeolo[1:22 AM]: ill just take the spare toothbrush i have there with me instead of my good electric one YN[1:23 AM]: u is smert Yeolo[1:24 AM]: i be there in 10 minie YN[1:25 AM]: 10 MINIES!!!

Remaining in bed, you lay back and stare at the ceiling, heartbeat keeping time with the rain against your window. You think you love him most when he’s like this, needy and clingy and over excited. London was his idea, or maybe it was yours, or, possibly, you thought of it at the same time. It felt like it, the way you both talked excitedly on his couch eight months ago, bare feet battling for dominance on the tattered cushion. The way the words spilled eagerly from your mouths, the way he’d already Googled, and you’d already used your credit card points for airline tickets, it felt like you were connected, united.

Something as simple as this, as planning a trip, felt remarkable and exciting. The phrase ‘why don't we go’ igniting a fire in your veins, making the world sound sweeter just because he spun city names into gold against his tongue. Always, it’s like this with him, life becoming an thrilling bundle of possibility, filled with magic and wonder, and existing without obstacles. It’s like this with him because he makes it so, his mouth only ever giving you the best words and your heart unable to say no at the sight of his wide eyes.

Precisely ten minutes later, Chanyeol’s heavy feet resonate throughout the hall as he struggles up the stairs to your door. Already, between the plaster and the wood of your door, you can feel him, his energy permeating your space and making your heart feel heavy with want. The sound of him alone wakes you up, invigorates you, sending sparks along your skin that make you feel electric or magnetic, or maybe both.

After six years of knowing Chanyeol, learning his noise and learning his breath, you are skilled at discerning his mood from the sound of his steps. Tonight, he is elated, hurried in his movements and wholly unburdened by the weight of his suitcase, driven into a clamor by the force of his excitement. Tonight, he is humming, as quietly as he can, yet still his voice his a thunderclap, barreling through the walls and deep into your bloodstream. You don't recognize what he's humming, the sound slow and somber, but it sounds important, like he's very serious about getting the notes right, and you find yourself frowning when he stops, saddened by the loss of the his voice.

At the first sounds of the spare key sliding into the lock, you turn over in bed, making room for him on the mattress, in your life, in your body, ready to keep him with you for always. When he pushes through the door, clambering with his limbs and his bags, he releases a giddy sigh, an exclamation of relief that makes a smile spread across your lips. Keeping still, you listen as he moves through your house and into your kitchen with sure steps. He turns on the electric kettle, the one he bought your for Christmas three years ago. Rummaging through your cupboard, the one he helped you build, he pulls out mug with a happy chuckle. Something has amused him, and you swoon into the bed at the sound, pressing your head against your pillows with a sigh.

You know he thinks of this space as his, moves around it openly and possessively, because his memories exist within the paint and the furnishings just as much as yours. Not least because he spends the majority of his time in the space you occupy, your flat larger and quieter than his own, but because he was the one who found it for you. Because, when your life felt as though it was ending, he was the one who built it back up around you, with you, leaving his traces on all the new pieces.

It is not that you expected your relationship with Ethan to last forever, merely that, after Ethan, you thought there would be something. When you found Ethan in your bed with another woman, hands and mouth pulling at her skin as if he wanted to make a home of her body, you found you simply didn't want anything. His lies had reduced you to nothing and, while you knew it was not the case, you felt nothing was what you deserved forevermore.

For two weeks, you slept on Chanyeol's couch, curled into a ball and trying not to be a burden. For five more, you slept in his bed, neither sexual nor wanting it to be, simply because he said he wanted you comfortable. Then, he said it was because no one should cry alone. Then, and lastly, because he said he never felt comfortable without you beside him. Not anymore.

His hands shook when he showed you the advertisement, and you wondered why he was nervous. Looking at your feet and with his voice quite small, he said he didn't want you to think he was kicking you out. You said, ‘are you?’ And he just looked at you, suddenly the most serious you've ever seen him, and said, ‘I just want you to have something that's yours.’ Sincerity looked beautiful on Chanyeol, not that he was insincere, but this was transcendent. You felt him then, like a knife. You don't think you’ve stopped feeling him since.

He never really went home after you moved in, just brought an air bed and stayed with you until you could afford decent furniture. You cried a lot those first few days, scared but not alone, and wondering how you could, or would, cope with this sudden something. Chanyeol held you, tighter than usual, and didn't say anything just clung to you until you were tired and wholly exhausted from living. You think that was when his habit for humming started, those days when his voice was a comfort, a lullaby, and its sound evolving into something you felt belonged to you.

Painting the living room was your favourite day, the first day you ever saw him, really saw him. The paint on his cheek made him look wild, like he was at war with the wall and was trying to win you over. You didn't know how to tell him he'd already won. You think he won the day you met him, you just needed the world to take on better colours.

The sound of your door opening shakes you from your thoughts, and Chanyeol enters with a grin, hair messy and cheeks puffy from lack of sleep. He's arrived already in his pajamas, ready to be comfortable and ready to be near you, and you watch, turning the sheets over for him, as he climbs into the bed with careful placements of his limbs.

‘Here,’ he says, handing you a mug - his favourite, the one he leaves for himself.

Careful not to spill anything, you take it, letting your fingers graze momentarily to feel the spark once more, and smell its contents.

‘Is this chamomile?’

Chanyeol settles against the pillows with a hum, and turns onto his side to face you. ‘It’ll help you de-stress,’ he shrugs, before his hand snakes into the pocket of his hoodie. ‘I also got you this.’

He hands you something black, something plastic, and, in the dim light of the bedroom, it takes you a moment to recognize it.

‘A sleeping mask?’ You glance at him, confused.

‘With cucumber.’ Laying back to nestle into the bed, he pulls out his phone and yawns. ‘You’re always super hot on flights and you never sleep. So, just try this please.’

‘You’re a nerd,’ you murmur, glad he is distracted and unable to see the blush that is blooming beneath your cheeks.

‘And you are annoying,’ he retorts, peering up at you with a grin, tongue between his teeth.

Dropping the mask to your nightstand, you sigh, somewhat heavy for the light feeling in your chest. ‘But you love me.’

‘And you love me.’

It feels too raw to agree or acknowledge the statement, like saying anything will force you to say absolutely everything, and so instead you remain silent, keeping your tongue locked behind your teeth so as not to give yourself away.

Time passes steadily, your body relaxing simply because he is near and you can hear the even rise and fall of his breath. The rain and his quiet hums become a soundtrack for your slow sipping of the tea, scrolling through your phone mindlessly, unfocused, and running through your packing checklist once more. 

Eventually, Chanyeol puts his phone beneath a pillow and cuddles against you, resting his head on your shoulder as he watches you scroll. Sometimes, he reaches forward to tap the screen, teasing you by threatening to like pictures on Instagram that belong to people you know of, but do not really know. You fight him off weakly, push yourself away, tell him he’s being an ass, and warning that you will spill, but you don’t mean it. Not at all. The cup is empty, anyway.

After thirty minutes, you place your phone and mug on the nightstand beside the mask, turning over in the bed to face him. For a while, you say nothing, just admire the way his hair falls over his forehead and into his eyes, the small mole on his nose, the way his mouth pouts slightly, the way just seeing you seems to make him smile - or perhaps, he’s simply excited.

Pressing yourself closer to him, you yawn. ‘Did you remember your passport?’

Chanyeol rears back, eyes wide and lips parted in horror, paling in the wake of your words. Your stomach drops.

‘Chanyeol!’

‘Yes,’ he laughs, reaching out from under the blanket to tap your nose. ‘I remembered it.’

Rolling your eyes, you bury your face in the pillow. ‘We should sleep,’ you announce, voice muffled. ‘We have a long drive to the airport tomorrow.’

He nuzzles close, draping an arm over your waist to pull you into his chest. Curling against him with a happy sigh, you press your ear to his sternum to hear his heartbeat. It flutters, just once. ‘Do you think it’ll be raining like this in London?’ he ponders quietly as he draws lazy circles along your spine.

‘It might be,’ you murmur, instantly relaxing into his hold and feeling yourself slip into sleep.

‘I hope so,’ his whispers into your hair, tightening his hold on your body. ‘It’ll feel like tonight never ended.’

You didn’t think the mask would work, but it does. Somewhere over Iceland, you fall asleep against Chanyeol’s shoulder, soothed by the cool mask and his reassuring grip in your hand. Your body tilts into his until you are resting at his side, and he lifts his arm to pull you close, tucking the blanket beneath your chin. Sleeping, simply sleeping, with you is a quiet gift from the universe, one he relishes with his whole heart.

Because you are sleeping, he is free to watch you and free to want you without limitations. Always, he wants to touch you, has stop himself from stroking his thumb along your cheek and across your lips. Always, he has to remind himself that you are not his, you are not his touch nor his to have, but how he wants you. Oh, how he wants you with every beat of his weary heart.

You are not his, so when he sees the green and amber lights erupt just beyond the window, he nudges you awake. Bleary eyed and cranky, you whine for him to stop until he points, makes you see the lights and how they transform the earth into an alien thing, a new thing, something you cannot imagine existing within.

You are not his, so when he sees the Aurora Borealis, he nudges you awake simply so he can share one moment with you. One moment he can call ours.

Yeolo sent a Photo Yeolo[6:31 PM]: whats this YN[6:34 PM]: un stylo Yeolo sent a Photo Yeolo[6:35 PM]: ???? YN[6:36 PM]: un café Yeolo[6:37 PM]: how do i say map? YN[6:38 PM]: i already taught you that one lmao la carte Yeolo[6:39 PM]: train station YN[6:39 PM]: la gare YN[6:40 PM]: how do you say im lost Yeolo[6:41 PM]: uhhhhhhhh Yeolo[6:42 PM]: je me losté YN[6:43 PM]: INCORRECT Yeolo[6:43 PM]: T____T FRENCH IS HARD YN[6:44 PM]: weve been over this one: je suis perdu Yeolo[6:45 PM]: why do you just assume im going to get lost Yeolo[6:46 PM]: the other vocab is more fun :< YN[6:47 PM]: its not an assumption i have money riding on it with baek Yeolo[6:48 PM]: you guys are assholes YN[6:49 PM]: connards Yeolo sent a Photo Yeolo[6:51 PM]: what is this YN[6:52 PM]: un ananas YN[6:52 PM]: when are you ever going to need pineapple on this trip??? Yeolo[6:53 PM]: YOU NEVER KNOW Yeolo sent a Photo Yeolo[6:54 PM]: this? YN[6:59 PM]: moi YN[6:59 PM]: when did you take this?? i didnt even see you doing it Yeolo[7:01 PM]: at sooberrys bonfire last week Yeolo sent a photo Yeolo[7:02 PM]: AND THIS? YN[7:03 PM]: un branleur Yeolo[7:04 PM]: wait idk that word Yeolo[7:04 PM]: countess tell me what that means YN[7:06 PM] - Message sent with Loud Effect: COUNTESS? Yeolo[7:08 PM] - Sent with Slam Effect: HEY!! Yeolo[7:08 PM]: i googled! im not a wanker! YN sent a Video Yeolo[7:09 PM]: thats the most emasculating eye roll ive ever seen Yeolo[7:10 PM]: *cries loudly* YN[7:11 PM]: tell me why you called me countess Yeolo[7:13 PM]: no youre being mean :< YN sent a Photo Yeolo[7:14 PM]: stop pouting !!!! Yeolo[7:15 PM]: my heart !!! YN[7:17 PM]: fine YN[7:18 PM]: the correct word for that picture is très mignon Yeolo[7:19 PM]: CUTE! YOU THINK IM VERY CUTE YN[7:20 PM]: of course you know that and not the IMPORTANT WORDS

In the middle of the Notre Dame, Chanyeol slips his fingers between yours and squeezes. Several moments pass before you realize he’s done this, and you, shaken and trembling, are too weak to truly look up at him. You know how you look, wide eyed and trying not to cry, emotions running free and rampant, turning you into a vulnerable, fragile thing. Overwhelmed, is how you think you feel, body and heart too full of beautiful things to truly process everything in front of you. Looking at Chanyeol would cause the dam inside you to fissure, shattering just enough to release the deluge, and you don’t think you are strong enough to survive such an onslaught of emotional veracity. Not today, at least. Not when everything around you is so perfectly quiet. 

Leading you over to a pew, he sits beside you but does not let go of your hand. For one hour, you remain in silence. It’s the longest you think he’s ever gone without saying a word, and when you finally gather the strength to look at him, when you finally think you truly could be brave, if only so you could keep his after image alive in your mind for eternity, you see that he looks just the same as you.

Reverence has settled on and underneath his skin, giving him an ethereal glow from the inside out. The sun pours through the stained glass windows, and the bronze and honey of the wood polish seem to seek out his shades, eager to make shadows beneath his cheekbones; they turn him into an angelic thing, a holy thing, something that makes you feel the true definition of awe. It hurts to see him like this, you think, to see his lips, so full and pink as the blood races through his body, fighting to keep and carry all his emotions beneath the blanket of his flesh. It hurts to see him like this, looking almost naked and fragile, just like you.

It hurts to see him and not be able to call him yours, so you tell him things that belong to neither of you, only to souls long passed. Doing this makes it easy, makes suffering the the pain of true adoration feel somewhat weightless because you can almost imagine this too shall pass. Hands built this cathedral, fingers laid all the stained glass into intricate patterns, and the whole length of their life seemed infinite and paradoxically brief. Someone must have loved like this, felt devoted to a thing that could not love them back, and they lived - or, perhaps, they died and, if they died, it was not by the hands of love.

You tell him of the French Revolution and the cloister windows; you tell him of the organ, and its 32-key pedalboard. You tell him of all these things, hoping that the lives and the wars and the names of the all the people who suffered to build, and rebuild the cathedral can also build, and rebuild your heart.

You tell him all these things and, as you do, he watches. You point to the windows, discussing with yourself how they were destroyed during the revolution when the cathedral was used as a storage warehouse for food, and how even the restoration couldn’t get the art quite the same. Chanyeol listens, but he does not want to look at them, not when he’s looking at you. Between his fingers, your small hand squeezes and jitters, shaking his in excitement to show him something new, but still he only sees you.

He’s not sure why no one else seems to notice, how simply being in this church has suddenly given you wings. Thousands of names run up and into his mouth, through his mind, and he wants to give them to you, wants them to spill out and over for everyone to hear. He wants to call you Angel, wants to call you Goddess, wants to call you nothing at all because something this pure and this holy should never be tarnished by his tongue.

He wants to call you everything so instead he calls you mes tous.

He knows it’s wrong, rather, thinks it is wrong, but when he’s looking at you, he simply cannot fathom any other term.

For him, you are everything, and nothing else will ever compare.

Yeolo[11:32 AM]: countess YN[11:33 AM]: this text better be about lolla tix Yeolo[11:33 AM]: it is not YN[11:34 AM]: GOD DAMMIT YN[11:34 AM]: T______T YN[11:35 AM]: i hate meetings YN[11:36 AM]: im so sad now Yeolo[11:37 AM]: i know baby i know Yeolo[11:38 AM]: but whats the name of that place you stayed in last year Yeolo[11:39 AM]: for the fest YN[11:40 AM]: the hi chicago hostel YN[11:41 AM]: why YN[11:42 AM]: i am NOT making shithead baek reservations if he got tix YN[11:43 AM]: maybe i will for yixing YN[11:43 AM]: because i am nice Yeolo sent a Photo YN[11:44 AM]: PARK CHANYEOL YN[11:45 AM]: YOU BETTER NOT BE FUCKING WITH ME Yeolo[11:46 AM]: I AM NOT FUCKING WITH YOU BABY YN[11:47 AM]: YOU GOT THEM Yeolo[11:48 AM]: I GOT THEM BABY WERE GOING YN wants to FaceTime

The rain in Chicago is biblical, pouring out of a chasm in the sky in torrents. You could drown in it, you think, if you let yourself go, let it take you over. Like this, it’s easy to associate it with Chanyeol, to assume that it’s him in the rain; it’s him soaking you with wet kisses that cover your hair. It covers you how Chanyeol covers you: completely, warm against your skin and never feeling like a threat, simply cleansing - your body and your mind, making you feel free, making you feel new. The rain feels like Chanyeol, and so you welcome it, let it run down your neck, let it pour into your lungs, and over your skin, baptising yourself in his essence before he comes to wipe his holy residue away.

With the festival over, Chanyeol takes your hand and starts leading you through the crowd to exit the park. He doesn’t say anything, just glances down at you and smiles, squinting through the rain, though his grip never slips. Even in the dark of the night and in between the thick drops, you can see him, radiating like a beacon, calling you to him, a lighthouse for the lonely ship of your ardor.

Standing on Michigan Ave, you cock your head back, letting people push past and grumble at your stillness, and try to keep all of this with you, within you. The city, the weather, the music, his touch, his hands, his mouth. You think on Chanyeol’s arms as they held you, swayed with you to your favourite songs. You think on his laugh as he ran from stage to stage, forcing you to keep up with his long stride. You think of how he fell asleep in your lap, curled up on a blanket beneath a tree, cuddling into you for comfort.

These things, these important, meaningful things, are carved into your bones, and you think they were drawn by Chicago itself. Leaving means tearing out your ribs and leaving them behind. Leaving means going back to how things are, to reality, to the realization that Chanyeol is not yours. And you cannot expect him to be.

Tugging on your hand, Chanyeol waits patiently before you as you open your eyes, and you smile. Rain glides down his nose, dripping off at the tip, making him chuckle. Intensely, he holds your gaze, does not waver and instead looks into you, as though he is seeking your heart, seeking your blood, and asking for both with only his eyes. With parted lips, he breathes through his mouth, as though he has run a mile to get to you, perhaps run for his whole life to have you with him.

A tether has started to spawn between your chests, growing into steel cable and pulling you to him, as though he is a magnet. You step closer forcing your steps to be cautious, your anxious feet wanting to run to him, run through him to say you have been inside him, and left your name behind on all his brightest and ugliest parts. And when he steps closer, gaze dark and chest heaving and hands seeking the wet skin of your arms, you think maybe you could speak, if only to keep him with you, like this, for just one minute more.

‘Let’s not go home.’ It’s neither a question nor a plea, simply a wish, simply a door to an alternate reality you wish you could unlock.

But Chanyeol, already having learned to be brave for you, slides his hands from your arms to your cheeks, and thinks he could do it again. ‘I already am home.’

He presses your lips together without caution, without fear, as if it’s the only thing he’s known how to do in his life. Tilting your head to the side, you open for him, and feel him growl into your mouth as he crushes your body against his, hands moving to splay against your back. You are glad for his tight hold, your knees starting to shake and your hands fisting in his shirt for purchase. He holds you up and supports you with ease, swallows your moans with the whole of his greedy throat, and devours you as though he could never have his fill. Lips moving in unison, you suck on his bottom lip, relishing how soft and smooth the skin feels against your hungry mouth, and this makes him part, gasping for breath.

‘Chanyeol,’ you try, though your voice sounds weak and broken.

Pressing his forehead against yours, he closes his eyes and tries to speak. ‘I call you Countess,’ he croaks, voice tight and small as he struggles to catch his breath and not to cry.

You nod, unable to offer anything else, skin sliding against his. ‘Yes.’

Shaking his head, he pulls away from you for a moment but does not let you go. ‘It comes from the French comte, and that comes from Latin meaning companion,’ he attempts to explain, the words sounding lackluster and unconfident in his haste. ‘You are...that and...I listen to you.’

‘You’re not makin sense, dove,’ you say, lacing your tone with compassion as you bring a palm to his cheek.

‘You don’t think I listen but I do.’ He nuzzles into your palm with a content sigh, closing his eyes for a moment before pressing a wet kiss to your palm and continuing. ‘I hang off every fucking word you say, commit it to memory. I’m always wanting you to say things twice: first so I can learn it and second just so I can hear you say it. I just want to hear it.’

‘Ch-’

‘I’m in love with you.’

Chanyeol announces the words like they’re a jumble of syllables he’s never had to use and is only now learning how to phrase them, or how to shape them. In the wake of their cadence, he takes in your wide, shocked eyes, and realizes he loves them. He loves how they sound on his tongue, loves how they make you look, and so he says them again.

‘I’m so in love with you,’ he repeats, this time slower, and this time making sure you hear. You have the passing sensation he looks like he could float away, awed smile on his lips as he regards you and eyes blown with desire, dark and purely euphoric. ‘It took me forever to figure it out because I’ve never felt this way before, it honestly feels like I could die or I could live forever, like just breathing around you is a risk but fuck, I’ve never felt more alive just standing next to you, just existing beside you.’

The ground seemingly disappears from beneath your feet at his confession, voice gone off in search of the terrain you once knew so well. A shiver runs through your body, though you cannot tell if it is simply of the rain or because of the things he is saying. Unable to do or think through anything, you merely stare, hold onto his shoulders and try not to whimper at the way he whines at the loss of your skin against his.

‘I think I’ve been in love with you since I met you,’ he continues, ‘when the Empress brought you to JD’s party, remember? How I didn’t stop standing next to you or trying to talk to you? You thought I was clingy, maybe I am, but I just wanted to share everything with you. And you already had a boyfriend. He was such a shithead. I hated him first because he had you and then most because he hurt you. The first time I heard you crying on the couch I sat against my door and listened. I wanted to die and then I wanted to go kill him. You did that for weeks, until I needed you in my bed. I couldn’t take it, I just wanted to hold you.’

Running his hands along your cheeks, he kisses your forehead, as your eyes flutter shut with a sight. Then he brings his lips to your nose, your cheeks, your eyes, and, lastly, your lips.

‘I always want to hold you,’ he whispers, breath warm against your mouth as he lingers close. ‘I can’t sleep without you. I don’t deserve you. At all. You’re beautiful, you’re smart, you’re funny, half the time you look like a fucking angel. I keep fucking up things I want to say because you look at me and it’s like my whole life is suddenly shifting. I don’t deserve you, and you can do so much better than me, so we travel. I give you the world because you deserve that, and at least that I get to share.’

It takes you a long while to find your voice, your hands playing with the hairs at the nape of his neck as he presses chaste kisses against your lips. He’s scared, you can feel it in the way he trembles against you, body exhilarated from his confession and terrified, now, of rejection. He’s scared you will push him away, and so he takes what he can get from your mouth and your skin, having his fill to keep it inside for always, even after you are gone.

Much the same, you press your body close to his, letting his cologne linger on your tongue and inside your blood. For you, he is a contact high, a shot of adrenaline straight to your heart that makes the world seem better, seem brighter, simply because he is there to change the spectrum of your vision. And so you take your time simply touching him, touching all the things you’ve felt before without really letting yourself feel them.

‘I decide what I deserve,’ you mutter quietly against his jaw.

This seems to shock him into action, his body careening into yours as he buries his face into your neck. ‘I want you,’ he cries, in relief. ‘Oh my God, I want you.’

‘I’m yours,’ you whisper, pulling his head from your neck and kissing him, first with your soul and then with your mouth. ‘I’m yours.’

[msbigredmachine]

Learning Lines 2 - A Samoa Joe Story

Cece takes Samoa Joe up on his offer. The sequel to Learning Lines. Samoa Joe/OC.

Comments will be greatly appreciated!

READ PART 1 HERE

The heat of the morning sun reaches me before the light does, warming my face through the cracks in the mini blinds, as though hinting at me to get my ass up already. Turning tiredly in my hotel bed, I fumble for my phone on the nightstand to check the time. Six in the morning. Usually I’ve already begun my day. It’s the first time on a working Monday I’ve allowed myself a lie-in after the hectic week that’s flown by.

I’ve been in Connecticut all week, cooped up in Titan Towers with the Creative team drafting the script for tonight’s Raw. After the home run I hit with Samoa Joe and Paul Heyman’s segment, I was rewarded with sole creative control of the rivalry between Brock and Joe, mandated by Vince. I’m overseeing the rest of the main event angle, which not only means all the attention is on me to produce a potential feud of the year, it means I’m going to have Samoa Joe on my agenda a lot more often now.

Not that I’m complaining.

An entire week has passed since my little…encounter…with Joe last Monday Night Raw, and I haven’t stopped thinking about it. That night has dominated my every thought; the memories of his hands on me, his fingers inside me, his lips wrapped around mine are etched in my brain with a branding iron, it seems. His parting words as he left me in that office, prone and breathless, continue to swim in my head, the tantalizing promise still sending shivers down my spine:

“If you want more, you know where to find me.”

A week has passed and I’m yet to take him up on his offer. I haven’t even mustered up the guts to contact him yet, and being so busy has given me time away from him and a perfect excuse to avoid him. Although I miss him fiercely, miss his company, I know I need some space to collect myself and regroup after the way I surrendered to him with no questions asked. Experiencing his intensity first-hand was overwhelming. I all but drowned in him that night, and I need my head above water in order to think more rationally. I pride myself on making decisions based off facts and reality, not teenage fantasies and a starved sex drive. Sadly, when it comes to Samoa Joe, my heart and my body stop being rational with just one look at his fine-ass self.  

I stare at my phone, and for the millionth time I find myself torn between making the first move and stretching the tension further between us. I don’t think he’d have said what he said if he wasn’t genuinely attracted to me. And even knowing that fact blows my mind. I never imagined the great Samoa Joe would have ever looked at me twice, let alone have any sexual interest in me. My paranoia has been quick to point out on more than one occasion that my appeal only lies in what I can offer him career-wise, but he doesn’t strike me as the scheming type. Well, I have the chance to see him today as we’re all in this hotel, and I have some time to kill before I head to the arena. I do want to see him, but I can’t help but wonder; What will it be like when we meet again?

Sitting up in bed, I decide to rip the Band-Aid off and get it over with. Taking a deep breath, I open up my phone and send a quick text message.

Hi Joe. How u doing?

He doesn’t answer right away, but when he does, my heart leaps in a way it’s never leapt before.

Hey beautiful. I’m good. Been a minute. How r u?

Ah, a term of endearment. Things might not be so awkward after all. I forge on, encouraged. I’m good. U right, we shd meet up. Breakfast? Oh God. I hope he agrees. Now that I can finally look him in the eye, he better say yes.

Sure. I know a place by the hotel. I can text u the details and meet u there. 1 hour?

Oh wow. He agreed. Okay, then. I’m trying not to be too excited as I get ready. I pick an outfit that looks effortless yet glamorous. I style my hair and put on a little makeup. By the time I finish, Joe has texted me the name of the place we’re meeting. My heart is thumping like crazy. I’m a couple of minutes away from telling the man I’m crazy about that I want him. That I want whatever he’s offering. I’ve never been so nervous about anything in my life.

The restaurant is a five-minute walk from our hotel. I find Joe right away, seated in the far corner of the restaurant, busy with his phone. As I come closer to the table, he looks up and flashes me that sexy smirk of his. He stands up, and I drink him in. He looks damn good in that jacket and flat cap. Has it only been a week since we last saw each other?

"You look beautiful," Joe says to me, before his huge arms close around my waist in greeting.

"Thanks," I whisper, wrapping my arms around his neck. I love his hugs. They're big and generous and make me feel safe, protected, like I have a friend who truly cares for me. Change in our relationship or not, I'll never stop wanting his hugs.

The embrace lingers for a while, and when we finally pull away, I let my hands slide down to his chest briefly, my excuse to touch him some more. He pulls out the second chair for me and sits only after I do, being the gentleman that he is. I like how we’re seated; right beside each other instead of opposite. I get to be close to him this way, and right now that is all I want.

“I ordered breakfast already, hope you don’t mind,” Joe says, and right on cue a waitress comes over with a large tray. She sets it down in the middle of our table and walks away. My eyes immediately rake over the spread; pancakes, sausages, eggs, toast and fruit. “I definitely don’t mind,” I respond, and my stomach rumbles in agreement. Divine doesn’t even to begin to describe how good the food looks and smells. And my earlier nerves made me forget that I’m hungry as hell.

Joe takes a sip of his orange juice, watching me pour maple syrup over my pancakes. There’s a small smile on his face as he stares intently at me. Slightly unnerved, I speak up. “What?”

“I’ve missed you,” he says.

I return his smile, my heart warming at his declaration. “I’ve missed you too. I’ve been so busy lately with work. Haven’t really had time for much else.”

“Same here from my end,” Joe replies. “I’m glad you texted me though. I’ve been meaning for us to spend some time together. We haven't had a chance to talk about last Monday.”

Uh oh. The dreaded talk. Does he have regrets? “What about it?” I try to sound as casual as possible.

“I realized I was very forward with you that night. Too forward, I guess. It was disrespectful of me. I shoulda considered your feelings first but I didn’t, and I apologize for that.”

Damn. He does have regrets. But I don’t, and I need him to know that. “You don't have to apologize. I wanted it. I liked it,” I assure him, as he looks at me. “I just…I never imagined you thought of me that way. Didn’t think you were interested in me.”

But Joe chuckles, a deep, sexy timbre that stirs my loins, and he shakes his head. “Oh, trust me, baby, I've thought about you that way for months. Honestly? I've wanted to fuck you since I first laid eyes on you. Fantasized about making you mine in all the ways I know how. I still do.”

“Like dominate me? Make me submit to your will, right?” I ask, apprehension mingling with my desire as I glance at him.

He offers me a smile. “I know it’s not the most conventional thing to disclose to a lady you’re interested in. But yes.” His gaze remains intent as he gauges my reactions. “Does that make you uncomfortable?”

I pick at my fruit salad with my fork. "Not at all. I think every woman likes a dominant man, especially in bed," I explain, “I’m no exception. The bedroom is the one place I enjoy giving up control, especially with a guy I trust.” Setting down my fork, I lean suggestively towards him. “Lucky for me, you’re a guy I trust.”

I watch as his eyes widen slightly, then darken a second later. “Yeah?”

I nod my head. “Mm-hmm. That’s why I decided to take you up on your offer from last Monday.” I bite my lip as I stare at him. “I want more, Joe. Whatever you want? I want it too.”

His eyes glow with relief. “I'm glad to hear that,” he whispers. “There’s so much I wanna do to you, things I know you’ll enjoy. But that ain’t all I’m about. We can do it however you want."

My mind is so full right now. He wants to have sex with me. He wants to use me for his personal pleasure. And my body is already steaming with anticipation. I want to please him, pleasure him, even if it means a little bit of pain is involved. I’m a big girl, I can handle myself on that aspect. “As long as it’s nothing over-the-top like that Christian Grey crap, I’m good. Don't tell me you're a Fifty Shades kinda guy,” I tease him with a grin.

“Hell no. Screw that Christian dude,” he scoffs, almost looking offended. “None of that written contract shit, and I definitely don't need no Red Room to get off either. All’s I need are these soup bones right here.” He drops his fork to raise his hands and flex his wrists proudly. I watch him for a moment, and then, boldly, I extend my hand, weaving my fingers through his. We both smile as he closes our fingers together and lifts my hand to his lips. We look at each other with heated gazes, and his lingers on my lips.

“Come to my room tonight,” he requests, his face subtly inching towards mine. “I got a few things planned for you.”

“Like what?” I inquire, briefly closing my eyes as I breathe him in.

“You’ll find out soon enough,” he replies with a wink, hooking a finger beneath my chin as he looks into my eyes. His eyes flicker down to my mouth again. I know what he wants, and I’m going to give it to him to show my commitment to this thing we’re about to explore.

I lean over and press my lips against his, slowly sliding my hands over both sides of his face. I feel his large hand on my thigh, and I take things further by dipping my tongue into his mouth to taste him. The passion ratchets up a few more notches between us, and I'm almost desperate to drag him somewhere more private and ravage him.

Luckily Joe possesses far more control than I do, because he’s the one who breaks the kiss. His lips brush over my ear before he whispers, “We better stop, before I bend you over this table, pull up this pretty dress of yours and rail your sweet pussy in front of everyone in here.”

He makes it sound like I’ll object if he does. I’d have encouraged him if we didn’t face the threat of arrest for indecent public exposure, and that will be both our jobs in the toilet. So I restrain myself. Barely.

Kissing my cheek, he sits back upright and picks up his cutlery. “Eat up, sweetheart,” he says gruffly, gesturing towards my plate. “You’ll need your strength for tonight.”

And just like that, he’s gone into bossy Dom mode. Fuck. I want him so bad. I haven't gotten laid in so long, and if this guy I've been crushing on forever is willing to end my drought – however he wants – who am I to say no?

After breakfast, we manage to go our separate ways without incident. Joe heads off to the arena while I return to my hotel room. Walking inside, I find two boxes along with a bouquet of pink roses sitting on my bed. They weren’t there this morning. Even more baffling is that one box is labeled Agent Provocateur and is wrapped by a neat black bow. 

Curious, I open them both. The unlabeled box contains a high, scandalous-looking pair of heels. The Agent Provocateur box unveils a very revealing, very sexy lingerie set. There’s a written note on top of the box.

Wear these for me when you come over. The shoes too. Hair down, and no jewelry.

See you tonight.

--------------------

Midnight.

I’m standing outside Joe’s door, drawing the coat I’m wearing a little tighter around my body. How I made it up two extra floors without being seen by any of the wrestlers crawling around this hotel, I’ll never know. I’m just thankful I got here in one piece. The heels are high as hell, but if this is what Joe wants on me, then I’ll wear it. Between breakfast in the morning and our rather raunchy texting session all through this afternoon, discussing each other’s limits, I’m more than fired up for tonight. He's told me about what he likes and his fantasies and honestly, I’m nervous and excited about the feelings he will conjure in me. Wetness pools between my legs just imagining what is to come.

The door finally opens, and my breath catches as I lock eyes with the hulking man in front of me. The hotel room is darkened but I still notice the silk sheets on the king-size bed. He’s wearing a black dress shirt, with the sleeves rolled up, black slacks, and no shoes. His sideburns and beard are neater than they were this morning. He doesn’t say a word as he steps aside to let me in. I move to the middle of the room and stand still, and he remains silent, his arms crossed over his chest as his dark eyes trail my body. Then, his deep voice rumbles through the room.

“Nice coat. Take it off,” he orders.

Shit, we’ve begun. I comply as I reach for the belt at my waist. I unbuckle the belt and tug it off of me, then my fingers close over the top button of my coat. I keep my eyes firmly on Joe, my hands surprisingly steady as I unpluck every button one by one. I gradually open the coat, easing it off my shoulders and shrugging it down to the ground. I’m clad in the lingerie Joe bought for me; stockings, heels and all. My hair falls down my shoulders, just as he instructed. Though I’ve always been at ease with my body, I’m definitely not accustomed to wearing underwear like this. Joe clearly approves of the outfit though, judging from the way his eyes have darkened, and a shiver of gratification licks down my spine.

“You look amazing, baby girl,” he comments, circling slowly around me, like an animal observing his prey. “You like dressing like a slut, huh?”

My mouth has gone dry, and I don’t trust myself to speak. Swallowing hard, I look down at the floor.

“Hey!” Joe’s voice suddenly booms around the room, making me jump, and he gets right in my face. “You speak when you’re spoken to, and you look at me when I’m talkin’ to you. You hear me?”

I respond before I even realize I’m doing so. “Yes.”

“Yes, what?” he presses.

“Yes…Daddy,” I say, and I feel a sense of satisfaction when his eyes light up, clearly pleased with my response.

He smirks, eyeing me up and down again. “Good girl. Now get on your knees.”

Trembling slightly, I do as he says, descending as best as I can to the rugged floor. It takes me a moment while wearing such deeply heeled shoes, but eventually I make it. Thankfully, the rug feels shaggy and soft on my skin and it’s instantly soothing my knees. I bow my head and spread my hands over my thighs, I hear absolutely nothing but the pounding of my heartbeat.

“Tell me why you’re here, Cece,” Joe speaks again. “Tell me what you want from me.”

I have to swallow twice before I can muster enough of my voice to answer him. “I want to give myself to you tonight,” I tell him. My hands, which remain on my lap, are trembling now. My heels are digging into my thighs, getting me accustomed to the pain that may come tonight. “I wanna be your slut, your whore. I want you to use me. I…I need you, Daddy.”  I shouldn’t be saying stuff like this, but I know this is what I want so badly.

He takes in my words in silence, and I don’t know what he’s thinking. He very slowly drops down to my level. “Look at me,” he says, squatting to meet my gaze. “Are you afraid of me?”

Hearing it out loud sparks the truth out of me. “A little bit, Daddy,” I confess, “But I know you won’t hurt me. I trust you.”

“Good,” he says, and he brushes my hair out of my eyes. His touch on my skin sends shivers down my spine. He looks into my eyes. “Kiss me.”

I lean towards him and gently kiss his lips. He kisses me back, and I feel the moisture of his tongue slide into my mouth, soft and sweet, like his lips. He tastes so delicious. I am heady with need for him, and it scares me how vulnerable this man is making me feel. 

“Mm, you’re all mine tonight, Cecilia. Daddy’s gonna take such good care of you,” he whispers, still on his knees with me, gripping my face as he plunders my mouth possessively. Our tongues are feverish against each other’s, tremors rippling through my entire being as he runs his hands along my bare arms. Abruptly, he pulls away, both of us breathless as we stare at each other. Joe rises to his feet with rather agile skill, and he gestures at me.

"Get up."

"Yes, Sir." I manage to do so, my legs wobbling a little.

“Get on the bed and stay on the edge. Face down, ass up. Spread your legs and don’t move.”

I move to comply without a word. I climb into the bed, which feels incredibly soft beneath me. I stay on the edge and bend forwards, keeping my chest on the bed, and I spread my knees far apart. My toes curl in anticipation. Fear, even. It’s been a long time since I felt this way. It’s foreign and scary, yet so daring and uninhibited. And I know, I’ve always known, ever since he mentioned it last week, that there’s no one I’d rather surrender myself to like this, than Joe.

I feel him come up behind me, and I shiver a little as he stands between my legs. His hand caresses my back and then up my body towards my backside. “Damn, you’ve got such a nice ass, babe,” he comments, squeezing my cheeks with both hands. His fingers then hook my panties, and he pulls them over my hips and lets them rest at my spread knees. I hear his low growl as my ass hovers in the air, my pussy wet and open for him, every inch of my privacy in his full view. I've never been this exposed before. I feel so ashamed, and yet so powerful, all at the same time.

“Mm, your pussy’s so beautiful,” Joe praises, and that only sends more moisture flooding between my legs. My lust betrays any embarrassment I still harbor. His hand slowly slides past my asshole and onto my labia. He traces a finger across the nub of my clit, the delicate touch making me moan and tremble. Then, the finger slips right inside my vagina. He moves his finger in and out of me slowly, digging deep, making me gasp and writhe against him.

"Daddy…" I moan, my hips rolling restlessly. 

“I said, don’t move!”

Suddenly, his hand comes down on my ass in a hard smack, the sound cracking loudly through the room. I squeal, completely taken by surprise.

“Disobey me again and you’ll be punished,” he growls. “Do you understand me?”

“Yes, Daddy,” I stammer. “I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”

“Good.” He continues to stroke me, and he finds far less resistance from my body now. “Look at that. Your pussy’s wetter.” he says, his hand swatting my other ass cheek, and he chuckles as a shuddering moan slips out of me. “Getting your ass smacked turns you on, huh? My naughty little slut."

I feel him now, his breath, right on my sex. He starts to lick me there, and my knees give a little but I force myself back into position. His free hand is on my ass and he spreads my left cheek open while he licks my pussy. I'm gasping and groaning with pleasure; his tongue is so long and wide, covering every crevice I own. His fingers keep sliding in and out of me with ease, and I involuntarily squeeze down hard on them. The tight tension increases my pleasure, and without thinking I shift my arm under my body, reaching down between my thighs to stroke my clit. But Joe sees this and pushes my hand away.

“Hell no! Hands off the pussy. Ain’t nobody gonna make you come but me. Not when I’m with you. Understand?”

“Yes Daddy,” I pant, barely getting the words out before he resumes licking and sucking me. My eyes roll in the back of my head as the pleasure sweeps endlessly through me, and my face dips into the mattress to muffle the moans spilling out of my mouth. My hand involuntarily grazes my inner thigh again, and before I realize the mistake I’ve made, he steps away from me, and he doesn’t touch me again for seemingly an eternity. I can hear him walking around the room, some rustling and zipping sounds, before he speaks again.

“Need to do something about your wayward hands, baby.”

He appears in my line of sight, and when I look up at him, I inhale sharply. He’s stripped completely naked, and I’m almost face to face with his erection. His thick body looks so smooth, and his creamy butterscotch skin gleams in the dimness of the room. His length is not as long as I’ve imagined, but his girth exceeds my expectations. I feel my breathing get shallower, my mouth salivating for him.

Joe notices my reaction and smirks. “Like what you see, baby?”

I nod enthusiastically. “Yes Daddy.”

“You want this dick?” He grabs himself and strokes once, twice, and my lower body throbs.

“Uh huh.”

“You’re gonna get it, Cece. All of it. Real soon. Stretch out your hands.”

I obey, extending my arms over the sheets. He grabs my hands and cinches what looks like the belt from my coat around my wrists. Now I am at his mercy. I’m trapped, going nowhere unless he says so, and it sends a wanton thrill through me.

“You look so hot baby girl, spread out on my bed like this, all tied up, that pretty ass in the air, your pussy open and wet for me,” Joe praises me, his eyes darkening with lust, “I can’t wait to fuck you. I’ma pound that pussy till you’re screaming so loud you’ll wake up the entire hotel.”

He returns to his position behind me, I feel his huge hands on my hips, skimming up my body and over my belly. I gasp as he cups my lace-clad breasts, rubbing them in a slow, sensual massage. He shifts forward and presses his huge body against mine, and I groan as I feel his erection pushing against my backside. His chuckle is deep and raspy in my ear, and he slides my hair to the side so he can press his lips to my shoulder and neck. His legs brush the backs of mine as he stands back upright and grips my hips tightly, his dick flush against my pussy and ass. He grinds against my ass, making me feel how hard he is for me. His breathing is shallower, heavier, as is mine. He lets go of my hips and there’s a small tearing sound, a condom, if I’m not mistaken. Then, all of a sudden, his dick pushes into my pussy, and I groan out loud as he slides easily into me. For a long moment, he doesn’t move, and I whine impatiently when I feel his dick spasm a little inside me.

At long last, he starts to move, pushing deep inside me, and a long, loud moan escapes me when he fills me to my root. He holds my hips in a vice-like grip as he starts to rock against me, moving in and out of me slowly, pulling out a little further and then thrusting back in. I whimper, my fingers clutching the sheets as best as they can with my bound wrists. The feel of him sliding deep inside me is indescribable. My moans grow louder as he grinds himself into me, forcing me to take every inch of him.

"Fuck, Joe!"

"That’s right, you moan my name. Let ‘em all know who’s givin’ you this good dick." His hands are all over my ass, squeezing and tugging the supple flesh. He pulls back again, then slams inside me, buried to the hilt, and grinds into me some more.

“Shit!” I moan, my head falling forwards, my wetness increasing exponentially. “Oh my god, you’re so fuckin’ deep…”

“Whose pussy is this?”

"Yours, Daddy,” I spit out, crying out again when he smacks my ass.

“Yes, mine. Fuck, you feel so good, baby, so tight,” he rasps, pumping hard and fast into me now. “Take this dick. Take all this big dick," he urges me with a slap to my other ass cheek, and we both groan when I tighten around him in response. He yanks me upright, pressing my back flush against his body. His massive hand winds around my neck, and like the wanton slut that I am, I hum my appreciation.

“Yeah, you like that?” Joe asks huskily, “Like bein’ choked, you dirty slut?”

“Yes. Choke me, Daddy,” I plead, and he’s happy to oblige me, tightening his grip around my throat, and fuck it feels so good.

He turns my face towards him and presses my lower jaw, forcing my mouth open. He rolls his tongue between my lips and kisses me with a passion that melts me in his arms. With his other hand, he yanks my bra cups down and grabs my exposed breast. He pinches my nipple with his strong, rough fingers, causing me to moan into his mouth, the pain only fueling my pleasure. It’s like magic, his hands, his mouth, his dominance, and I’ve fallen under his spell.

“Daddy, please,” I beg, my mind in a million different places right now, “I need to come, Daddy. Make me yours, baby.”

My breathless pleas are music to his ears. With a hungry growl, he pulls my panties the rest of the way down my legs and climbs into the bed behind me. He uses his thick legs to pin mine to the bed, trapping me underneath him. He thrusts into me hard, and I scream and curse loudly at how deep he suddenly is inside me. He presses his hand over the back of my neck and pushes me further into the sheets, and I’m moaning with reckless abandon as he slams his dick into me over and over, my prone body shifting on the bed with every thrust. My arms, bound and outstretched in front of me, are starting to ache, but it’s nothing compared to the incredible sensations sweeping through me. I hear him grunt as he leans his body over mine, caging me in as he continues to fuck me hard from behind. I want to match his movements so badly, but he’s locked me in, trapping me in a deliciously animalistic way.

“Come for me, baby girl,” Joe gasps. He wraps my hair around his hand and gives it a sharp tug, forcing my head up. “Come on…”

“Fuck! Joe!” I whine as my body arches, my legs starting to shake. “Oh fuck, I’m fuckin’ coming!”

“Do it. Come for Daddy,” he commands.

I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to brace myself for impact. The orgasm rushes over me with incredible force, and I gush all over his dick. I’m weak, I’m spent, and I would have collapsed if Joe’s arms weren’t locked around me, holding me tight. He pumps inside me a few more times before he lets out this animalistic groan that I’ve never heard before, his face tucked in the crook of my neck as he pulses heavily inside me. He relaxes, finally, and his body sags against mine, both of us panting hard, struggling to recover. It feels like I’m in another world, but in a strange way, I feel more connected to this man than I've ever been to anyone else in my life.

Realizing he may be crushing me with his weight, Joe clambers off me. “Sorry,” he mumbles. He gently pulls out of me, and I instantly miss his weight on me, his manhood inside me.

He shifts above me to untie the bonds from my wrists. From there, he pulls off my shoes and tosses them to the floor, while I manage to dispose of my bra. I lay next to him and he curls me into his chest, running his hand up and down my back. "Cece, you okay?" he asks.

"Mmm-hmm..." I mumble against his throat, still on Cloud Nine.

"Answer me properly, babe."

"I'm fine."

“How was it for you?” he inquires, and the concern morphs into something else. The commanding, aggressive Dom is gone, and with the way he looks at me as he awaits my reply, it’s almost as if he’s seeking my approval, like he hopes he’s impressed me.

“It was amazing, babe.” I slide my hand up his chest, my voice a soft purr as I curl up against him, kissing his neck a few times. “You’re amazing.”

“I’m glad you enjoyed it,” Joe whispers, his fingers threading soothingly through my hair. “Perhaps we will play again sometime. Only a little less rough, and after a date or two, maybe.”

I look up at him, my heart racing at what he suggests. I watch as he brings my wrists up to his mouth and kisses each of them softly, rubbing the red marks that are starting to appear. The act is tender and unexpected, and as he gazes adoringly at me, a sensation far more intimate than lust, a feeling that has plagued me for months, threatens to overwhelm me again. I’m so tempted to put myself on the line, put my job on the line, for him. And I’m scared. Scared that he might still walk away in the end. Scared that this thing happening between us will only lead to my heart getting broken.

But I push all the negatives aside and settle for kissing him deeply, confirming once again, without words, that whatever he’s offering…I want it. I want this, I want him, in any way I can have him.

There are no certainties for the future, but for once in my life, that doesn't matter to me. I am happy at the possibility for more between me and Joe. Maybe I don’t need it all figured out beforehand. I don't have to worry about what may or may not happen. So I’m just going to see where this leads.

THE END.

-----------------

TAGGING:

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[fiftyshadesofocs]

ROASTING A BNHA OC - Nakajimi Aiko

HI YES WE AREN’T DEAD. 

We were patiently waiting all this time! You know why? Because the second season of BNHA is out, and since - it seems - we mostly do BNHA on here, then why not wait until some new ocs would come out. 

And who are we presenting to you today?

suukiishie-create’s character, Nakajimi Aiko. This is gonna be one hell of a ride.

Mod Cloud -

Okaaaaaay I'm all fired up !! Yep, this time I'm opening the clash, let's go, shall we ?

Biographical Information

Japanese Name: 中島愛子 Rōmaji Name: Nakajima Aiko Alias: Chīsana Kyojin ( 小さな巨人/ The Little Giant )

> The Little Giant, well that's cute as fuck but I'm sure there's much more names to choose, it's kinda common. ( Just think about the one in Haikyuu, or the soccer team in Inazuma Eleven, for instance... )

Personal Description

Birthday: January 20th Age: 15 Gender: Female Hair Color: Pale Orange

> In all honesty, I was sure she was blonde. Pale Orange is a great color but well... Where's the orange in her hair ? Just say "blonde" and we'll stop here.

Eye Color: Dark Brown Blood Type: A+

Quirk: Size Manipulation / Healing

> HOLY MOTHER FUCKING SHIT. You’re joking, aren’t you ? Really ? But WHY does BnHA OCs NEEDS to have TWO FUCKING Quirks for Arceus' sake ??? I mean, look, size manipulation is already a really nice power but why does she needs to get something else — healing to be precise — to look more badass and shit ? I'm sure healing Quirks are kinda uncommon and it's really — sorry but I can't tell what I think otherwise — stupid to give a power like that without real reason. ( In fact there is below, but for me, it's awful shit. )

Status Status: Alive Occupation: Student Department: Department of Heroes Class: 1 – A Affiliation: Yuuei

Classical shit. :)

Family: Nakajima Hiro (father – Transformation Quirk); Nakajima Kaguya (mother – Quirkless); Shūzenji Chiyo (maternal grandmother – Healing Quirk – Alias: Recovery Girl)

> I'm fucking dying. Recovery Girl, really ? If your OC is Chiyo's grand-child, she should have the same quirk as her, no ? It's fucking logical, I don't even understand why does Recovery Girl is in her bloodline when Aiko has a size manipulation Quirk. The pro hero is just an excuse for « allowing » her to get healing powers. B U L L S H I T.

Love Interest: Bakugou Katsuki

> Like 90% of female OCs (including me) I'm not even surprised. ( Roast asked me to guess with whom that OC was in love. I should have done a bet with them, I won lmao. ) [ Mod Roast: I can confirm and thank god we didn’t LMAO ]

Personality Multiple; Sarcastic; Loud Mouth; Perverted; Sweet; Loyal; Temperamental; Confident

> What is this shit ? Sweet and Perverted aren't AT ALL in the same register, it's awkward for fuck's sake. And I don't get it, « Multiple » ? Does she have some issues as regards her behavior ? Not like bipolarity or whatever but something in that case ? I hope it's written below.

When you first meet her, she comes off as overly dramatic, usually spewing profanity and loves calling hot guys “daddy” out loud. 

> Ahem. I'll say nothing about the daddy kink but it's really awkward when we saw her appearance. She looks like a pre-teen, for Aizawa's sake ! [ Mod Roast: And also she’s 15. Everyone there is 15 or 16. Please. DON’T call children ‘daddy’ or ‘mommy’. PLEASE. ]

She has a tendency to fall in love too quickly, and is very protective and jealous over her love interests. 

> I like this part, I admit it. (Not because my baby is jealous as fuck over her boyfriend because she feels too insecure, no no)

Her size manipulation is tied into her emotions, so it is very common for her to shrink and grow randomly throughout the day.

> Well, that's nice to know but why is that iin her personality description ? You can explain that her Quirk is linked to her emotions or something like that, but I think it's not useful to say in that way she is changing her size whenever she feels anger or happiness, I don't know. Maybe you can develop the idea and change the way you have explain that part. That'll be better and more interesting.

She may be over the top and crazy, but she has an amazing heart and is the best friend anyone could ask for, going completely out of her way for loved ones. Basically if you can get past the initial judgement she is bae. (This description was not written by me)

> It's not bad at all, but I think «judgment» is a bit too much. She is a selective person ? You don't explain it, so I don't fully understand your OC's personality. Oh well, that's maybe because this description isn't even a description. For instance, mine are LITTERALLY a novel. Ask Roast if I'm lying, they always read my shit when I'm finishing my OCs' datas. [ Mod Roast: YOU COULD MAKE A FUCKING BIBLE WITH ONE OF HER DESCRIPTIONS. Mod Cloud is a MONSTER. ]

What. It's your OC and you haven't wrote it by yourself ? I don't judge it because you may have faith in your friend's ability in writing — and that's nice of you — but you haven't put something else in the paragraph ? You just copy-pasted it and that's done ? I really feel stupid to be honest ‘cause I'm roasting your OC but you didn’t even wrote the whole thing and I'm doing a critic about your friend's work. Your OC is even worse than I thought, because you didn’t even take the time to use your friend's work to develop better your OC.

History Before joining U.A., she had a relatively normal childhood, considering her mother is Quirkless. 

> What's the problem with the fact that her mother is Quirkless ?

Her father has worked with her since she was a young child to try to teach her how to control her size manipulation. Her father is a huge pervert, which really helped shape her personality. 

> That's nice her father has an influence in her character, even if it's not in the best way lmao. [ Mod Roast: It’s also pretty disgusting that she was influenced in that way, yuk. Like that’s her father, for fuck’s sake. Don’t talk about boobs and daddy kinks with your fucking father. HE SHOULD ACTUALLY DO THE OPPOSITE, LIKE, THAT’S ALSO A FATHER’S JOB. ]

She has never met her maternal grandparents, after hearing about her grandfathers death she decided to seek out her grandmother, wanting to build a relationship with her, though she only knows her real name, not her alias, only knowing she works at U.A, which is why she chose this school.

> I almost laughed, it looks like a stalker's story. That's almost ridiculous, that's the only reason she enteed Yuuei ? Don't you know that phones and Internet and rendez-vous exists ? That's pretty awkward.

Her mother ran away as a child because she was Quirkless and felt like she was letting her mother down though it wasn’t something she could control.

> Just what the fuck is this thing ? Recovery Girl isn't the kind of person who thinks that way, I'm almost sure. Plus that's useless, you put those words here and that's it. That's  not even a story, that's too short. Work on it for Bakugou's short sake, I feel ashamed like crazy. [ NMod Roast: Recovery Girl being someone who works in the medical department, it’s very unlikely she would be mean with quirkless people. Just saying. It’s like saying that a doctor would discriminate a patient because they have an handicap. ]

And yeah, that’s- that’s it, there’s nothing else to day, I’m done.

Mode Roast -

Oh boy of boy, with what shoudl I begin. Well with the beginning of course ahaha, hm sorry. I lied we’re going to begin with the quirk.

Quirk and Abilities Body Size Transformation (Bodi Saizu Henkan / ボディサイズ変換 ): The ability to resize your body at any time, making one-self extremely small or large at will. Healing ( Hīringu / ヒーリング ): The ability to heal others by touching them with the palm of the hand. Healing is limited and only works in small spurts. --hand me down power from an relative. Strength Proportioning (Kyōdo Puro Po /  強度プロポ): Her strength is proportionate to whatever size her body is, i.e. she will not have super human strength if she is shrunken down to the size of a flea.

WE’RE STARTING WELL IT SEEMS. Do I really need to explain why the “strenght proportioning” isn’t a quirk? That shit’s normal. Did you know that a spider’s web is one of the most resistant materials? But why can a person break it easily? Because of our size too baby, boom. If you piut more strigns together, it’ll be more resistant. So sorry to break it to ya but that ain’t a quirk. 

Also why the fuck does she needs two quirks. She can already become gigantic and small at will, like, isn’t that enough?! A character doesn’t need to have two or more quirks to be strong, look at the characters in the show! All of them have their unique ways to be strong in their own way, even the characters that aren’t in class A in the first place! And what’s that, a relative gave their powers to her? Don’t you know that only All Might has this kind of quirk with the One For All, as Izuku stated it in one of the episodes, that we never heard about a quirk that could be passed to someone else? Work more.

Other Statistics

-   Hero Status    - Power: 4/5 B Speed: 2/5 D Technique: 3/5 C Intelligence: 5/5 A Cooperativeness: 0/5 F

-   Fight    - Leadership: 5/5 Physical Strength: 4/5 Stamina: 3/5 Observation: 4/5 Agility: 3/5 Mental Strength: 3/5 Willpower: 5/5

Why is her cooperativeness so damn low, what does she wanna prove;; ALSO THIS IS BULLSHIT, SINCE HER LEADERSHIT IS 5/5. A leader also has to know how to cooperate, that is BASIC AS FUCK. And the fact that she seems unable to cooperate also makes me doubt about her super intelligence right there miss.

Trivia - Aiko is no.23 in Class 1-A. - Her name Nakajima Aiko 中島愛子  means Little Love Island ; her nickname is Ai. - She ranked 11th during the Entrance Exam, with 41 rescue points and 7 villain points. - She also ranked 11th for the Quirk Apprehension Test. - She uses mainly her Body Size Transformation Quirk to stay small. - She uses her Healing Quirk a lot in battle even though it drains her physical energy. - She uses her Body Size Transformation Quirk to become large as a last resort.

Yeah so 11 is kinda her lucky number I guess. That means she took Kouda’s place for the quirk apprehention test and someonelse’s place, isn’t that beautiful. Well it’s only natural since she’s in class A, right. 

★ Conclusion:

Mod Roast: Bad. Bad. MS. Two quirks. Not developped enough. *sprays water* Go. Away.

Mod Cloud: Is that even an OC? Holy shit...

[today-only-happens-once]

Aeonian Struggle

Title: Aeonian Struggle

Word count: 1653

A/N: So this little angst fest came out of watching Merlin, believe it or not. Season 4 Episode 10. I won’t spoil anything in case some of you might watch it (DO IT! WATCH MERLIN IT’S AMAZING AND I’M SO IN LOVE) so yeah. This snippet is heavily inspired by something that transpires during that episode. (also, gif not mine).

 I’m feeling pretty iffy about this fic, tbh, so I would love any and all feedback, guys. ^u^ Shoutout to @masterpick for being my beta. 

Characters/pairings: Dean x Reader, OC demon, Sam (extremely briefly)

Warnings: Angst. Mentions of hell. Mentions and (brief) descriptions of torture. Dean’s self-hatred.  

Tags: @illshakeyouallnightlong-dean, @winchestersnco, @mamaimpala, @squirels-angels-and-moose, @summer-binging-spn ((for the last two people I tagged, I know one of you had specifically requested to be tagged in the Hamilinspired series, but I cannot remember which one. If either of you would like to be removed from non-Hamilinspired fics, just let me know. No hard feelings. Promise. ^u^))

It’s the heaviness in Dean Winchester’s kaleidoscopic eyes that fills you with the kind of certainty that tugs your stomach into knots. Certainty that he is real. His usually soft hair is matted with blood and the sweat that clings to his forehead. His shoes scrape wetly against the damp cement floor as he slides around the corner with his hands up by his head in surrender. He has the demon knife balanced between his thumb and forefinger, his hands caked with dirt.

His gaze flicker to yours. Even from across the room, you mentally cling to his colors. The green in his eyes. The blue and white plaid shirt he has unbuttoned. The dark scruff along his jaw that makes every angle that is Dean Winchester’s face somehow look sharper.

“Dean?” The vibrations of your voice rubs your raw throat in a way that makes you wince. It had been weeks since you’d last seen him. Or… maybe years. You had no sense of time anymore. Every part of you aches to feel his heat, to lean into the solidity of his broad chest. But you can’t move. Your entire body is heavy and weak and throbbing, and you are entirely certain you don’t have the physical strength to stand. Even if you did, the chains around your wrists anchors you to the ground.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Dean says, swallowing thickly as his eyes flit over your slumped form. “You okay?”

You do your best to nod. “M’okay…”

There’s a laugh. All too familiar, and you feel bile surge up your throat as if on instinct. You swallow it down as the voice—a hard, feminine alto—says, “She’s lying to you, Winchester.”

Dean tears his gaze from you as the woman steps from around the far corner through the second doorway on the opposite side of the room. “Victoria,” he says in a low voice. Distantly, somewhere beyond the sharp ache in your ribs and constant thrum of an intense headache, you’re surprised at the recognition in Dean’s voice. “You got what you wanted. I’m here. Let her go.”

Victoria’s meat-suit has long dark hair pulled back in a braid and pale skin that somehow looks almost sallow in the dim lighting of the basement of the abandoned factory. She scoffs. “I got what I wanted? Please, Dean.” Her eyes flash black. “It’s far too late for what I want.”

The room is spinning around you, but you focus as much as you can on Dean. The rise and fall of his chest that, once upon a time, you had laid your head on and fall asleep to the lullaby of his heartbeat. The eldest Winchester takes a step forward, and the light above him suddenly makes you startlingly aware of the dark circles under his eyes. He hasn’t been sleeping.

“Enlighten me,” Dean growls.

“Drop the knife first.” The demon enunciates each word carefully, and a moment later, you hear the knife clatter to the floor. Dean’s ready compliance confuses you, but the room is still spinning and it’s hard for you to focus on anything other than the very slight curve of his shoulders and how the line of them flows seamlessly into his biceps beneath the sleeves of his flannel shirt.

You hear the sound of heels clacking against the floor. Moving closer to you. “Do you know when I died, Dean Winchester?” Dean doesn’t respond, but you see the way his gaze narrows briefly in confusion. Victoria continues. “June 23, 2008.”

Dean looks at her blankly. His gaze, briefly, flickers to yours, but you can’t quite make out his expression. “What does that have to do with Y/N?”

“Nothing. It has everything to do with you.” There’s something harsh and grating—almost shrill—in Victoria’s voice. “When I died, I went to hell, Dean Winchester. And you know what happened?” The demon doesn’t wait for a response. “I was strung up and tortured over and over and over by the one they call the Righteous Man.”

You see the color drain from Dean’s face, and he opens his mouth to reply before Victoria continues, her voice low and raw. “Do you know how demons are made?”

Suddenly, you feel a swift and hard kick to your ribs. You gasp, unable to help the cry of pain that tears its way through your throat. You think you feel one of your ribs give way and you curl in on yourself as she continues. “Demons are humans who have been so warped from their time in hell that they no longer are human souls. I spent 1,041 years in Hell. The worst of it was by your hand.”

“Victoria,” Dean tries, his skin pale and his voice sounding strangely raw in your ears.

“YOU DID THIS TO ME, DEAN WINCHESTER!” Even in your dizzy, half-aware state, and even despite your hyper-focus on Dean as if he is the only thing keeping you from spiraling right now, you can hear Victoria’s guttural, anguished cry. “You made me what I am!”

You see Dean go flying across the room, his back slamming hard into the cinderblock wall behind him. There’s a loud crack that echoes in your ears as you see Dean’s head slam back against it before he slumps to the ground with a groan. He blinks a few times, probably trying to clear his own dizziness.

“You didn’t… you didn’t deserve that,” Dean says, grimacing as he shifts onto his hands and knees.

You hear soft fabric rustling, the clicking of heels again, and suddenly Victoria is stepping over you and crossing the room to Dean.

“Dean,” you try, attempting to yell his name but only having it come out in a harsh, raspy whisper.

Victoria rakes long, sharp nails through Dean’s hair before grabbing a handful of it and yanking his head back. “You want to know why I was in Hell?” she hisses. “Because when I was thirteen years old, in 1998, my baby sister was dying from cancer and we had just been told there was nothing more they could do. So I made a deal with a crossroads demon. Ten years later, the Hellhounds came for me.” Victoria throws Dean to the ground again. “I was thirteen when I made that deal.”

You watch Dean as he winces, and you have an odd feeling it’s not from the pain. When he opens his eyes again, they’re haunted with something you can’t quite see. Memories dance just below the cracked glass of his irises, and Dean squeezes his eyes shut again.

“So you can imagine how it felt,” Victoria continues relentlessly, hauling Dean up again, “to endure decades of torture—being skinned alive slowly and meticulously—and watching that man enjoy the pain he inflicted based on a deal I made when I was barely a teenager trying to save my baby sister.” You see the knife Dean had dropped—forgotten in the middle of the room fly up and into Victoria’s waiting grasp.

Her hand closes over it, her other still in Dean’s hair. You’re aware that you’re a little out of it, but you can’t help but know that Dean could break out of that grip easily. Knock the knife out of her hands. Throw her off balance and get the upper hand. Anything. But he doesn’t.

“And then,” Victoria growls in a low, wrenching voice, “To top it all off, in comes charging an angel. And who does this angel save? None other than the very man who so thoroughly tortured my soul every day for decades that I was no longer human. I was told later that he was saved because he was… righteous. Well, where was the righteousness for me?”

Victoria pulls back the knife and you can see the fire in her eyes, and the emptiness in Dean’s. In that split second, as his name tears it’s way in a desperate scream throughout your entire body, Dean’s usually bright green eyes—the same ones who had looked at you over the top of a newspaper or laptop every morning during breakfast, the same ones who had bore into yours when you first told him you loved him, the same forest green that you’d gazed into before falling asleep in his arms every night—were dulled with the weight of bottled-up self-hatred and memories.

“DEAN!” You scream, and Dean throws up his hands at the same time and yells out, “I’m sorry!”

Victoria stops cold and you’re surprised you can hear her whisper over the sound of your own pounding heart. “What?”

“I shouldn’t have been the one who was saved,” Dean says in a low, soft voice. His gaze travels reluctantly to you before they quickly flicker away again. “It should have been you. Or any one of the countless souls I tortured just to make the pain…stop….” The eldest Winchester’s voice trails off like there’s some sort of anchor at the end of the sentence that makes it too painful to continue. “I can’t…” Something catches briefly in Dean’s throat but he forces the next words out like they physically pain him. “I can’t undo what I’ve done.”

Dean glances at you again. There’s something shattered in his eyes. “But please,” Dean says, his gaze not leaving yours even as you can feel your head starting to cloud up and heaviness weighing your eyelids down. “Don’t take it out on Y/N. She’s innocent in this.”

“So was I,” Victoria growls, raising the knife again.

You’re fighting with every ounce of willpower you have to move. You have to stop this. To stop her. But you’re fighting a losing battle and you know it. Your body won’t listen to you and just continues to feel heavier and heavier. You see a figure—tall, a plaid flannel, chestnut brown hair—appear in the doorway and the sound of a gunshot.

Then darkness.