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laffy-taffy-creations · 6 months

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WOOOOOOOO WHUMPTOBER DAY 8 BABES

This fic was cross-posted on AO3 here

Collateral Damage

Overcrowded ER | Outnumbered | "It's all for nothing"

Fandom: My Hero Academia

Words: 1,188

Taglist: @athenswrites @lili-loves-whump

Warnings: hospitalization, power overuse, past experimentation

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The shaking started first. It was the first sign that anything was wrong.

Next was shouting. The sounds of things, walls, doors, windows breaking. I made the mistake of going out into the hall to figure out what was wrong and almost immediately got decked had I not ducked.

Villains. So many villains.

There was reason UA prided itself on security, it set up it’s offense defensively and it’s defense offensively. But the defense had broken somehow.

Shit shit shit what are we meant to do? None of the kids from the lower levels are heroes! Are any of them safe? Are they okay?

[Focus Clo. We’re a hero. We handle this.]

I had already ended up engaged in combat with some of them, but there were just so many that I wouldn’t be able to take any of them out using only the power I showed off.

We’re outnumbered. We’re out of options. We just have to stand our ground until support arrives.

But support wasn’t arriving. I put maybe 3 out of commission, and 6 more showed up for me and the others in the hallway. If we go all out now, it’ll end up hurting people. I cant get them all to safety in time.

Someone hit me in the back.

[Fuck it. Void.]

My power stretched and I let it go as far as it deemed through out the school, causing damage like no other. I knew it would end up going out of control, I fought to stay conscious the same as my fight to contain the full power of my quirk from harming innocents.

I let it rage, let myself go for just a little bit, let them have my wrath. Let them see exactly why they should never come back ever again.

I let the anger and hatred fuel it, let what had happened to me cause chaos, let my quirk handle and give proper catharsis to at least a small sliver of my fury. My happiness, my protectiveness, my want for others to live a better life than I had barred it inside as much as it would be leashed.

And after that I was in a hospital.

“No, nononono stay down! You need rest!” the nurse said when he saw me get up. My confusion must have shown. “We barely managed to get you in but you’re the current most likely source of whatever wrecked UA. You need to rest,” he explained.

My just-waking-up mind was still confused but I wrote it off in the name of sleep.

The next thing I remembered was waking up again. I could think more clearly now. There was an IV in my arm. I was hooked up to a heartrate monitor. I was no longer wearing my suit, instead being put in a hospital gown.

“They’re awake!” I heard vaguely.

My dad was the first to enter along side Ochako and Izuku.

The same nurse as before said, “their condition isn’t critical so we’re allowing the one extra visitor, but if it is to change at any point you all will need to leave the room and they will only be permitted to have 2 visitors after that. “

My friends nodded and my dad immediately crouched down by my bed side.

“Are you okay sweetie? Is everything alright? Did you use too much power?” he whispered so only we would hear.

“Yes… to all three of those. Ugh, I feel like death.”

“Yeah well, you almost put us in death when we couldn’t find you. What happened?”

“Uhhh…” I wracked my brain for memory. “I went to the bathroom, the building started shaking, I heard sounds of general conflict and when I opened the door there were way too many villains for anybody to feasibly take in a fight storming their way through the building.”

There was a pause.

“You mean you dont remember anything about UA having a complete shift in reality for like 5 minutes before going back to normal?” Ocha asked.

“Yeah, even those of us on the training field experienced some of it,” Izuku added.

The nurse cut in, “they’re the most likely source for where all that power would have come from currently, so they probably dont remember anything about it. Plus, if it was someone near them, some part of said power might have knocked them out or caused them to forget.”

“Are you telling us they were the one that caused all that carnage?”

“Most likely, yes,” the nurse answered.

My dad looked at me and I nodded. “They are,” he said.

All eyes were on him now. “It’s been something of a secret since I adopted them, but yes, they have a very intense and powerful quirk that, under the right circumstances, would be able to have done that to UA.”

“I thought their quirk was Illusion?” Ochako questioned.

“One of, yes. I have multiple. Illusion is the one I was born with.”

“...Are you trying to say there’s ways to manifest multiple quirks?”

I sat up. “Well, considering I can do this,” I paused and concentrated, letting my heartrate monitor flatline for a bit, “for a minute straight without any sort of repercussions, I’d say that’s a fair assumption.”

“But why keep this secret?” Izu said confused.

“Because I didnt get these of my own volition. They were forced on me.” Dont think about it dont think about it dont think about it.

“By who?”

“That’s a question best left to the police,” my dad cut in.

“A pro-hero,” I responded.

The silence and tension could’ve been cut with a knife.

“A…A hero?”

“Yes. A very famous one. One that nobody would honestly believe me. He pumped me full of chemicals and now the official quirk blocker on file for me is a sedative.”

“A sedative?”

“You saw how strong my quirk is. Normal blockers dont cut it, I have to make special ones for me that are 10 times stronger than the current strongest ones available to heroes and cops, and even those still break when I lose control.”

The silence was only broken by the small shuffling of clothing as my dad offered me a cup of water.

“...We had a tough time finding you. There was a lot of people rushed to 3 different ERs to properly accommodate how many people ended up injured and otherwise passed out.”

“I can imagine.”

“...What exactly does your, uhhh… lab quirk?... do?”

“I was given three. You’ll have to be more specific.”

“Uhm… The one we saw you use?”

I put down the water. “That one’s my most powerful. It started as a general item-creation quirk, with the main component being a form of matter manipulation that with enough stamina turned into this.” I shifted the room around us, changing realities, shifting the environment, then letting it settle back to normal.

”So it’s matter manipulation?”

“At one point while it was still developing fully. Its true form is much better described as reality bending.”

Ocha spoke up, “That’s… terrifying.”

“Indeed.”

There wasn’t much else to be said.

The truth is finally out.

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hythlodaeus-mynewoldfriend · 10 months

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WIP Saturday

I posted a wip on my other blog but got something to share here also. Have some stuff from two pieces! One being a little AU ship for Anthea a friend made mention of a kind of variation of it and has been rotating in the brain ever since. I also have some Siberite and Ali getting ready for dinner at Sib’s house. The first one doesn’t have any spoilers, second half is EW related since it’s Thea and we deal with Ancients so that one is spoilers! Other than that I hope you have fun! If ever anyone wants to be tagged just let me know!

Siberite and Ali bonding time!

She can’t though, as much as she’d like too, there’s work to be done and that starts with making it through this dinner. She takes a deep breath letting herself sink beneath the water watching the pink tinted water take on some gray as the grime frees itself from her hair, deep pink joining their movements to the surface as more of the dye washes away to bring forth the natural purple, something her mother will be thrilled with surely. It’s all a ploy, Siberite thinks as she scrubs away the dirt, scabs, and any notion that she’s been spending most of her days fighting the last three and a half Source years, They won’t just give me up that easily. They want nothing more than to keep me home.

She stops, blinking a few times hoping the nail brush in her hand isn’t real, that the pristine shine of her fingers and hands is a trick of the light and when she’s through there will still be the dirt she can never quite get near the cuticles, the tinge of yellow on them from the years of harsh soaps still lingers, and the callouses simply softened will harden once dry. But she knows these habits, knows that when she’s through here someone will be waiting in her room to cut away dead skin, soften her hands even more with oils that smell of lavender, and paint her nails in either a metallic that will match her gown or a neutral color that gives attention to the rings that will adorn her. She will look the perfect Lady down to the minute detail. She will look like herself once more, the her that’s always reflected when she passes the mirrors and looks her combatants in the eye. The image her mother still sees….

The quick rapt at the door makes the water splash with her panic before hearing Katla’s voice, “Mistress Siberite, I’m very sorry to disturb you but you’ve been in there quite a while. Shall I send someone in to assist in your preparations? Perhaps refill your bath with more hot water?”

“No, thank you. I’m just about done actually.”

“Then I shall have freshly warmed towels sent in along with your robe.” Siberite hears the woman walk away, promptly getting back to the last few steps in making herself presentable. As if they were simply waiting outside the door for her, the towels and plush robe are brought in and it takes a few attempts to let the two staff members leave her be, insisting she change fully in her room, uncaring that she’ll have to walk down the hall in nothing but her robe. The steam follows her three doors down until Alisaie’s voice makes her stop.

“I’ve already taken a shower and redid my hair, what more could you possibly need to do?”

Siberite smiles, walking closer to peek through the small opening of the door to see a defiant Ali dressed in a similar robe to her own with comfy casual shorts just peeking beneath it, “Ma’am I’m sorry but Lady Akagane wishes everyone to look presentable. Which means-.”

“Well are you putting my brother through these same inane steps?” The young staff woman stutters, “That is exactly what I thought. Now will you please-.” Siberite steps into the room, trying to hide the smile wanting to break free, Alisaie clearing her throat, “Siberite, I- I didn’t see you there.”

The warrior glances over at the young staff member with a small smile, “I don’t believe I know you, remind me of your name.”

“Shannah, ma’am.”

“Shannah, while it’s lovely to meet you, I do believe Katla could use a few extra hands in the dining room.”

“But your mother-.”

“Will be fine. I’ll help Alisaie.” Shannah looks between the Scions with wringing hands, “I can assure you I know how to do hair and make up to my mother’s standards.” The young woman swallows before nodding and rushing out the door.

“Thank you for that,” Alisaie says, falling back into the chair facing the vanity with a huff, “You would think we were having dinner with a king.”

Siberite chuckles, “That’s not out of the realm of possibilities you know. Come on, sit up straight,” she says, patting the young woman’s back into position.

“Do we really have to do all of this?”

Siberite combs her fingers through the undone white hair that’s gained some frizz with the humidity, “For my mother, yes. She’s very particular and does like to have excuses to dress up and show off.” The small drop of oil spread across her hands and combed through quickly makes for a silky and smooth canvas. She looks Alisaie in the eye through the mirror, “I know you would rather keep your look, but we have to do it up a little differently. Would you want it to still be pulled back and feel a bit like the braid you normally wear?”

“I’d rather not,” she grumbles with a cross of her arms, “but if we must then sure. I trust you to not make me look even more foolish than I already feel.” Siberite gives a small smile, her hands starting to already work on sectioning and braiding as Alisaie watches on. “If I may ask, why did you never tell anyone about how you grew up? None of us would have thought any less of you.”

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A little Anthea and Hermes meeting more formally for the first time!

“Just….a little….,” Anthea says as they reach up towards the last hanging purple fruit in the coniferous tree, “further.” Their fingers just brush the flesh of it when they hear the scraping of their shoe against bark, can feel as their foot only stands on air with their body following suit. Anthea reaches out, other leg hooking itself around the branch in enough time as their hands fail to grip onto it. Their hooked leg keeps them on the branch as they fall backwards until their head makes contact with something else just as hard, mask flying away. They hiss as whatever they hit exclaims in pain, massaging the now sore area as they open their eyes. Anthea twists trying to find what hit them to no avail, moving on to see if they could get enough momentum to bring themselves back onto the branch, finding that to also be something they cannot do. A groan comes from behind them, Anthea looking around, “Hello? Who’s there?”

Though it hurts their neck they manage to get a glance behind them too find another dressed in the standard black robes, with richly tanned skin and short black hair, looking around. The stranger soon moves to come into Anthea’s view half of his face covered by a white and silver mask, the shadow of a smile beneath it that brings a sheepish one to Anthea’s lips. “Tell me is it a common practice for new personel to be hit in the head from someone that is hiding in a tree?”

Anthea blushes, “Uhm, no. No when people are new, typically there’s some kind of sweets involved. Or well at least in my little section of housing, but I’ve heard others do the same.”

He let’s his smile free, “Then I shall hope for such lodgings. Do you need any assistance coming down?”

“It would be much appreciated.” Anthea scrutenizes him, “If you could simply just stand beneath me, I believe I can find an easy way down.”

“Would it not be easier if I simply held onto your waist?”

“Potentially but I will not force you into such a position when we’ve only just met.”

He laughs, “Seeing as I am offering I find no qualms about it.”

“I suppose that’s true.” They nod, hoping the heat they feel in their face is only from being upside down as he reaches up to grab onto their waist. They find enough footing to allow for their other leg to free itself, his grip helping in letting their desecent be slower. Anthea finds they are still a few ilms from the ground being held up only by the kind stranger. “Thank you.”

“Of course,” he says setting them down, Anthea moving for their mask quickly, hiding their features. “What were you doing up there if I may ask?”

“There’s a purple fruit up there,” they say point up to where it still hangs, “I wanted to add it to my garden.”

“Would you not simply make a tree on its own?”

“I find it relaxing to sometimes just grow them from seeds,” they answer with a shrug, “It also can help with research knowing how long it takes for one to be tended to until it produces fruit.”

“I see,” he looks up into the branches and back down the trunk, until he smiles once more, “In that case, allow me.” Anthea doesn’t have time to protest when he’s already made his way up to the branch they had just been hanging from. His height makes the reach for it easier along with his coming down.

He hands it over, Anthea taking it and cradling it to their chest, “Thank you. You mentioned new personnel, are you new here?”

“Yes. My first day actually and I’m afraid I find myself a bit lost.”

“Oh, you are part of that big group from Amaurot, you’ve all just finished your initial training.”

“Yes, that is correct.”

“Then as way of apology for hitting you in the head, I shall show you where to go.”

“I would be most grateful for such a thing,” he chuckles.

“First things first, new researchers should remain maskless until you are acquainted with the creatures and the ways in which they roam.”

#anyway! sorry for length but since I post writing slowly I like to share big chunks in case it’s never finished #have fun with them and I hope you enjoy them!#my wip tag #my writing #endwalker spoilers

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home-on-the-wastes · 1 year

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Make Up Your Mind (1/3)

Pen returns from the Think Tank. ----- Part 1 // 2 // 3

Stains and tears marred the patient's gown, tightly tied in the back over the strange suit. Pen took a deep breath in the bathroom mirror and washed her face. The steam wafted up and covered the mirror, hiding her bloodshot eyes. A new scar ran perpendicular to the lighting explosion of scars from her temple, from one temple to the other, like someone took a piece of chalk and drew a line.

Boone had many questions but finally settled on, “What happened?”

Pen huffed and scrubbed again, the water near scalding. As she leaned forward, she dipped her head. Another scar peaked out from the suit’s collar, trailing down from the base of her skull.

“Where do I even start?” Pen reached back and tried to undo the laces of the patient's gown, but her hands were shaking so bad she couldn’t grip the strings. “Fuck.”

“I got them.” The knots needed to be cut with Boone’s combat knife–Pen had tied them so tight there was no undoing them. Underneath the patient gown, the suit got stranger–a large, metal triangle on the back had groves like it was part of a spine. The metal pieces eventually peeled off with various clicks and hisses of pressure releasing, and then she stripped out of the black leather.

She had so many fresh scars. The tip of the one Boone saw peeking from her collar reached down her spine to her pelvis. Needle marks littered her forearms and thighs. She wiped the steam from the mirror, and her chest had more scarring, similar to heart surgery.

“I was a lab rat,” Pen explained. Boone hadn’t realized he was staring. Pen probably couldn’t tell that he was, but she made eye contact with him anyways. “These old world scientists. They…took parts, and I got them to put them back. That’s the long and the short of it.”

“Are–are you okay?”

That was a stupid thing to say, but Pen just smiled.

“I am now. I’m gonna shower, gonna eat something that isn’t made out of paste, and then…yeah.” She shrugged. “Yeah.”

#oc: pen ayton #fallout #fallout new vegas #courier six #craig boone #fnv boone #fnv oc #old world blues

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museumlunge4 · 2 years

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Durango: Wild Lands Game Review

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#ทดลองเล่นสล็อต bp

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bottomrocket87 · 2 years

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While we may be doing an excellent job of sustaining our living rooms, sometimes we need to do more than upkeep. Take the time to evaluation what goes right into a front room intense cleanup. Decluttering areas like junk drawers and messy storage bins might help release area. Spray down patios, decks, porches, lawn furnishings, playground tools — and some other massive merchandise or house you could have outside your home. For the siding, you could wish to lease or invest in a power-washer to remove buildup on the skin of the house. Many garages have empty house above the garage door or close to the ceiling that can be utilized for storage.

#清潔公司

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lovandr · 2 years

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Relax | Dick Grayson

“I want to help you relax, Dick. Will you let me help you?”

“God yes. Please.”

Dick Grayson x Fem!Reader

Word count: 2k

Warnings! NSFW 17+, penetrative sex, pet names, hints of choking, blowjobs, dirty talk, teasing.

(A/n: I haven’t written smut in ages so bare with me yall. )

He threw himself onto his bed with a loud sigh. He had spent the whole day training with the younger Titans and then doing some paperwork, as he was still a detective. So to say Dick Grayson was tired was an understatement. He rubbed his face with his hands, taking a deep breath in and then out.

He looked at his phone, it was 10:30pm and training was at 6am tomorrow . Why the hell did he make training so early? He groaned before deciding to have a shower. He turned on the water and took off his clothes.As soon as the hot water touched his skin, he visibly relaxed, letting his shoulders drop as his muscles became slightly less tense.

He spent another ten minutes under the water, rubbing honey and lavender scented soap all over his body with a purple loofah . When he had done, he hopped out and wrapped a towel around his waist; and used another smaller one to dry his wet hair. He hummed a song to himself that he couldn’t quite remember the name of as he walked back to his bed sitting down and checking his phone.

[knock knock]

He walked up to the door, expecting to see Kory complain about her sister or the kids, “Kory i’m kinda busy right now, can we talk later- oh” There y/n stood, in a long silky black dressing gown, holding a bottle of Rosé in her right hand and two glasses in the other. “Sorry to disappoint, I bought refreshments.” She smirked.

“Y/n i’m kinda.. well you can see why this isn’t a good time.” he said, his cheeks and nose dusted rouge with embarrassment. She looked down at his waist and then back up at his face. “I just thought we could… talk for a bit. You seem stressed Richard.” She taunted, waltzing into his room and setting the glasses aside. She plopped down on his bed and sighed loudly.

“Why is your bed so much comfier than mine?” she whined, stretching her arms. “Because I picked first- Hey don’t touch that.” he yelled at her grabbing her arm. She looked up into his eyes. She watched how his gaze softened slightly as he looked down at her lips and then back up into her eyes.

.“Don’t touch my stuff.” he said breaking the eye contact and taking a step back, letting go of her hand. “Ugh finneee. How bout that drink then?” she smiled bubbly, grabbing the bottle of wine off his dresser and opening it without spilling a drop. She poured some in both glasses, picking them up and passing one to Dick.

“I don’t drink Rosé.” he stated, grimacing at the slightly pink tinted liquid. “Oh? maybe how about red wine?” the glass of Rosé was replaced with a glass of red. Dick marvelled at this for a second before realising he hated red wine. “Wrong again, I more prefer a-”

“Martini?” A vodka martini was placed in his hand with a snap of her fingers. “Y/n. I-” “Just drink with me.”

He took a sip of the Martini, looking Y/n in the eye. He felt it burn his throat burn just a little as she watched him from behind her glass. “Taste good?” she asked, taking a step toward him. He hummed and nodded his head, taking another sip. “Tell me about your day.” She smiled, urging him to sit down. As he did so, she placed her hands firmly on his broad shoulders. “Shhh, Relax doll.” she whispered in his left ear.

“Well I uh, I did a bit of combat training with the kids and then sorted out some paperwork- ah.. fuck.” he practically moaned as Y/n pressed her thumbs between his shoulder blades. “You like that?” she whispered softly, rubbing his shoulders and back. “Fuck yess.” he groaned as she straightened out a particularly tight knot in Dick’s back. “Keep talking for me.” she said quietly.

“I- mmh- made myself some coffee before I got up here and then I hopped in the- ah- shower.” By now he was a mumbling mess, leaning his head back against her chest. She sat him back running her hands up and down his waist, her nails lightly scratching the skin.. “I want to help you relax, Dick. Will you let me help you?” she half moaned in his ear, placing a soft kiss on his neck and then his shoulder. She moved to his lap gracefully, rolling her hips a little. “God yes. Please.” he whispered against her lips. He looked up into her eyes, his own brown ones sparkling innocently. He placed his hand on her throat and pulled her in for a slow and sensual kiss.

She rolled her hips on his lap, his hands firmly on her waist guiding her. “Just like that baby, just like that.” he moaned. She kissed his neck again, marking him with her love, smiling to herself as she felt his cock grow hard against her ass. “Tell me how I can help you baby.” she spoke, forcing him to look up into her eyes. “God please just let me fuck you. Please.” he begged, grabbing her ass through her robe.

She hopped off of him, untying her robe and letting it fall to her feet . She smiled as she heard dick whisper “Fuck.” under his breath. She turned around to pick up her robe, bending down, exposing her ass.

She turned back around and untied the towel from Dick’s waist, rubbing his thighs softly as she knelt down in front of him. “You mind if i uh-”

“I don’t care, just do something, anything. please.”

She took him into her mouth, using her hand for what she couldn't fit in. She bobbed her head up and down, swirling her tongue around the head. She took him out of her mouth and began stroking him slowly. He moaned and mumbled incoherent curses, throwing his head back. “More please. I need more.” he whined, bucking his hips desperately into her hand. She decided to give him what he wanted because the whole point of this was to get him to relax a little.

She put him back into her mouth, inhaling through her nose. She took him deeper into her mouth, feeling tears prickle in her eyes. He grabbed her hair pushing her down and thrusting himself in her mouth, Tears rolled down her face, smudging her mascara. he managed to hit the back of her throat, making her gag a little. “Fuck just like that y/n. It feels so good. He fucked her face ruthlessly, as y/n hollowed her cheeks and stayed still for him to use for his own pleasure.

“Im gonna cum. Please can i cum in your mouth?” he pleaded, holding off his orgasm as best as he could. By now his hair was dry and fluffy, falling in front of his eyes, his cheeks were flushed, brows furrowed and his pretty pink lips were parted slightly. He grunted and groaned softly with every thrust as his thighs shook with overwhelming pleasure. She hummed “yes.” for him to cum, which didn’t take him long. It only took a few more thrusts before he had come in her mouth, slowing down his movements, a loud moan on his lips.

“God fuck that was so good.” he mumbled, still slowly thrusting his cock into her mouth. He looked down at her in awe. Her mascara and eyeliner was all smudged and she had cum dripping down her chin, yet she was still the most perfect woman he had ever met. “I want to make you feel good. Can i?” he asked, wiping the cum off her chin with his thumb and placing it in her mouth. She looked up at him and nodded innocently.

She sat on his lap, kissing him. He kissed her hard, grinding his cock against her pussy, he sucked hickeys into her skin, making her mouth fall open slightly. He took the opportunity to put two fingers in her mouth, to which she sucked softly. He placed her down on the bed, removing his fingers from her lips and teasing her with them.

He teased her entrance with his two middle fingers. She gasped a little when his fingertips just brushed past her clit. "You're so wet baby." he cooed, stroking his fingers over her cunt, she smiled at his playful nature, leaning up to kiss him again.

"Please~." she begged him as he continued to play with her pussy. He took it one finger at a time, watching as her eyes rolled back with pleasure. “Harder please.” She whispered against his lips as he rubbed her clit and put his fingers into her. "You like that sweetheart?” he asked, thrusting his fingers in and out of her, spreading them and curling them. He stretched her pussy out with just his fingers, loving how she moaned and cried for him to give her more. “Dick please.” she mumbled,

“You like my fingers deep inside you, making you feel good? Hmm Princess? Tell me how good it feels." He asked as his fingers pumped in and out of her slowly but firmly. The pressure was just right, the speed was teasingly slow, but not too slow. He curled his fingers slowly inside of her, rubbing her g-spot softly. She moved her hips at the same pace as the thrusting movement of Dick’s fingers.

"Fuck Dick. It feels so good. Please don't stop ." She moaned. He stopped anyway and looked her in the eye. "Beg for it princess. Beg for me." he spoke seductively into her ear.

"Please. I want you so bad. Please fuck me." She whined breathlessly, looking into his eyes innocently, although the embarrassment soon made her cover her face with her hands. "Good girl."

He continued to work his fingers faster into her as she moaned and pushed back on his fingers. He kissed her chest, specifically her boobs. Her mouth fell open as she felt Dick’s lips on her right nipple. “Fuck baby. I want you in me." she groaned as he took his fingers out of her.

He brought them to his lips and started to suck off her juices.

"Mmh you taste so good baby. You're doing so well for me love." He ran a hand up and down her waist, kissing the stretch marks that sat there. He kissed her tummy and then all the way back up to her lips.

“Do you want this?” he asked, stroking her hair behind her ear. She nodded enthusiastically, just wanting him to fuck her.

He lined himself up with her and held onto her hand, interlocking their fingers. He slid in with a groan. Her walls clenching around him made this all so much better.

"Fuck y/n you're so good for me. You're such a pretty girl. Mmhm Princess you like that?", he smiled down at her.

" Like it when I fuck you like this and call you a pretty girl, hmm?" He said as she felt his cock pulse inside of her. Her eyes rolled back and she arched her back. He was bigger than she had imagined, much bigger.

"Fuck I love it. " she cried out as his cock slammed into her. She furrowed her brows and grabbed her left boob, playing with her nipples.

Every thrust made her legs shake and her eyes roll back in ecstasy. who knew it would be this good. He flipped them both over and began thrusting a little harder. He rubbed her clit with one hand and held her waist with a firm grip with the other. It felt like she was on cloud nine.

Both of their moans and whimpers filled the slowly thickening air as he ruthlessly shoved himself into her cunt, slapping her ass every few thrusts; watching it jiggle upon impact.

"Fuck i’m gonna cum!!" she whined loudly, Dick’s fingers still rubbing her clit. "Cum on my cock baby. Be a good slut and cum all over my cock sweetheart." He moaned. He pounded her cunt, kissing her shoulder and wrapping his hand-that was previously on her waist- round her throat and squeezing gently. She came hard on his cock, her thighs shaking.

But Dick wasn’t quite finished yet. He picked her up and sat her down on his cock again. He groaned deeply as she began to roll her hips. "Don't stop baby. I'm so close." he whimpered, making her clench around him. He started thrusting up into her, holding her thighs. His pace was unholy as her thighs shook whenever his hips met her ass. His eyebrows were knitted together, he let out short whimper-like moans and his hair covering his hazel eyes. He looked so pretty like this, so pretty.

He flipped them back over so that they were back in missionary. she wrapped her legs round his waist, moaning loudly at how deep he was fucking her. He began to kiss her again, sensually and with passion. She flung her arms round his shoulders and tugged at his hair, making him whine again. god she loved that sound. It was a mix between a guttural moan and a whiny whimper. It made her wet beyond words.

"You close baby?" she asked, stroking his hair and tugging on it every now and again. He nodded and picked up the pace of his thrusts. "You're doing so good for me, so so good." she praised, watching his cheeks turn pink as he let a small chuckle leave his lips. “ ‘M close princess.” he groaned, watching as her second orgasm neared. "Cum with me, Dick. Cum for me." she whispered in his ear, which seemed to do it for him. They both came for a second time. He came inside her, his lips parted and a string of curses tumbling from his open mouth. so so beautiful.

Dick’s thighs shook violently with the ferocity of his orgasm. Y/n stroked her hand through his hair as he came down from his high, whispering sweet nothings softly into his ear. “You did so good for me, so so good. Breathe baby.” she cooed, planting a soft kiss at the base of his neck. “Goody boy. You feeling better?” she asked, watching him nod slowly. “Lemme clean up real quick.” she smiled, heading to his bathroom and cleaning herself up. She came back with a warm washcloth and began wiping up any excess cum. He sighed quietly at the heat of the washcloth, grabbing her hand and forcing her to stop.

“Thank you.” he whispered, millimetres from her lips. “Anytime Bird boy.” she smiled, kissing him. He pulled her into his lap, kissing her slowly and more passionately than the other kisses they shared that night. “Hold on.. Bird boy? Seriously?” he chuckled, running down her waist and over her ass. “Yeah, it suits you. Hey! hands off!” she giggled, slapping his hand away. “Oh c’mon, you love it. You know you do.” he smiled, grabbing her ass with both hands this time.

“Shut up.”

#dc titans #nightwing #nightwing x reader #dick grayson x reader #dick grayson #titans smut #fanfic #smut

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mimicofmodes · 3 years

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“The Ladies Waldegrave” by Joshua Reynolds, 1780 (NGS NG2171)

I’ve complained before about two very big pet peeves of mine - corset stuff and Regency women being dressed in 1770s-1780s clothes - but one that may dwarf them because of how frequently it comes up in historical and fantasy fiction is the oppression of embroidery.

That’s probably putting it a bit too strongly. It’s more like ... the annoyance of embroidery. Every character worth reading about knows instinctively that sewing is a) boring, b) difficult, c) mindless, and d) pointless. The author doesn’t have to say anything more than “Belinda threw down her needlework and looked out the window, sighing,” to signal that this is an independent woman whose values align with the modern reader, who’s probably not really understood by her mother or mother figure, and who probably will find an extraordinary man to “match” her rather than settling for someone ordinary. To look at an example from fantasy, GRRM uses embroidery in the very beginning of A Game of Thrones to show that the Stark sister who dislikes it is sympathetic and interesting, while the Stark sister who is competent at it is boring and conventional and obviously not deserving of a PoV (until later books, when her attention gets turned to higher matters); further into the book, of course, the pro-needlework sister proves to be weak-willed and naïve.

Rozsika Parker, in the groundbreaking 1996 work The Subversive Stitch, noted that “embroidery has become indelibly associated with stereotypes of femininity,” which is the core of the issue. "Instead embroidery and a stereotype of femininity have become collapsed into one another, characterised as mindless, decorative and delicate; like the icing on the cake, good to look at, adding taste and status, but devoid of significant content.”

Parker also points out that the stereotype isn’t just one that was invented in the present day by feminists who hated the idea of being forced to do a certain craft. “The association between women and embroidery, craft and femininity, has meant that writers concerned with the status of women have often turned their attention towards this tangled, puzzling relationship. Feminists who have scorned embroidery tend to blame it for whatever constraint on women's lives they are committed to combat. Thus, for example, eighteenth-century critical commentators held embroidery responsible for the ill health which was claimed as evidence of women's natural weakness and inferiority.”

There are two basic problems I have with the trope, beyond the issue of it being incredibly cliché:

First: needlework was not just busywork

A big part of what drives the stereotype is the impression that what women were embroidering was either a sampler:

sampler embroidered by Jane Wilson, 14, in 1791 (MMA 2010.47)

or a picture:

unfinished embroidery of David and Abigail, British, 1640s-50s (MMA 64.101.1325)

That is, something meant to hang on the wall for no real purpose.

These are forms of schoolwork, basically. Samplers were made by young girls up to their early teens, and needlework pictures were usually something done while at school or under a governess as a showpiece of what was being learned - not just the stitching itself, but also often watercolors (which could be worked into the design), artistic sensibility, and the literature, history, or art that might be alluded to. And many needlework pictures made in schools were also done as mourning pieces, sometimes blank, for future use, and sometimes to commemorate a recent death in the family. A lot of them are awkward, clearly just done to pass the class, but others are really artwork.

Many schools for middle- and upper-class girls taught the making of these objects (and other “ornamental” subjects) alongside a more rigorous curriculum - geography, Latin, chemistry, etc. At some, sewing was also always accompanied by serious reading and discussion. (And it would often be done while someone read aloud or made conversation later in life, too.)

Once done with their education, women generally didn’t bother with purely decorative work. Some things that fabric could be embroidered for included:

Jackets

Bed coverings and bedcurtains

Collars and undersleeves

Pelerines

Neck handkerchiefs and sleeve ruffles

Screens

Upholstery

Handkerchiefs

Purses, wallets, and reticules

Boxes

Book covers

Plus other articles of clothing like waistcoats, caps, slippers, gown hems, chemises, etc. Women’s magazines of the nineteenth century often gave patterns and alphabets for personal use.

(Not to mention late nineteenth century female artists who worked in embroidery, but that’s something else.)

You could purchase all of these pre-embroidered, but many, many women chose to do it themselves. There are a number of reasons why: maybe they wanted something to do, maybe they felt like they should be doing needlework for moral/gender reasons, maybe they couldn’t afford to buy anything - and maybe they enjoyed it or wanted to give something they made to a person they loved. That firescreen above was embroidered by Marie Antoinette, someone who had any number of other activities to choose from. It’s no different than people today who like to knit their own hats and gloves or bake their own bread, except that it was way more mainstream.

embroidery patterns from Ackermann’s Repository in 1827 - they could be used on dresses, collars, handkerchiefs, etc.

Second: needlework wasn’t the only “useless” thing women were expected to do

Ignoring the bulk of point one for now and the value of embroidery - I mentioned “ornamental subjects” above. As many people know, young women of the upper and middle classes were expected to be “accomplished” in order to be seen as marriageable. This could include skills like embroidery, drawing, painting, singing, playing the piano (as well as other instruments, like the harp or the mandolin), speaking French (if not also Italian and/or German), as well as broader knowledge and abilities like being well-versed in music, literature, and poetry, dancing and walking gracefully, writing good letters in an elegant hand, and being able to read out loud expressively and smoothly.

This wasn’t a checklist. As the famous discussion in Pride and Prejudice shows, individuals could have different views on what actually made a woman accomplished:

“How I long to see her again! I never met with anybody who delighted me so much. Such a countenance, such manners! And so extremely accomplished for her age! Her performance on the pianoforte is exquisite.”

“It is amazing to me,” said Bingley, “how young ladies can have patience to be so very accomplished as they all are.”

“All young ladies accomplished! My dear Charles, what do you mean?”

“Yes, all of them, I think. They all paint tables, cover screens, and net purses. I scarcely know anyone who cannot do all this, and I am sure I never heard a young lady spoken of for the first time, without being informed that she was very accomplished.”

“Your list of the common extent of accomplishments,” said Darcy, “has too much truth. The word is applied to many a woman who deserves it no otherwise than by netting a purse or covering a screen. But I am very far from agreeing with you in your estimation of ladies in general. I cannot boast of knowing more than half-a-dozen, in the whole range of my acquaintance, that are really accomplished.”

“Nor I, I am sure,” said Miss Bingley.

“Then,” observed Elizabeth, “you must comprehend a great deal in your idea of an accomplished woman.”

“Yes, I do comprehend a great deal in it.”

“Oh! certainly,” cried his faithful assistant, “no one can be really esteemed accomplished who does not greatly surpass what is usually met with. A woman must have a thorough knowledge of music, singing, drawing, dancing, and the modern languages, to deserve the word; and besides all this, she must possess a certain something in her air and manner of walking, the tone of her voice, her address and expressions, or the word will be but half-deserved.”

“All this she must possess,” added Darcy, “and to all this she must yet add something more substantial, in the improvement of her mind by extensive reading.”

Mr. Bingley feels that a woman is accomplished if she has the ability to do a number of different arts and crafts. Miss Bingley feels (or says she feels) that it goes beyond specific skills and into branches of artistic attainment, plus broader personal qualities that could be imparted by well-bred governesses or mothers. And Mr. Darcy, of course, agrees with that but adds an academic angle as well.

But what ties all of these accomplishments together is their lack of value on the labor market. A woman could earn a living with any one accomplishment, if she worked hard enough at it to become a professional, but young ladies weren’t supposed to be professional-level good because they by definition weren’t going to earn a living. All together, they trained a woman for the social and domestic role of a married woman of the upper middle or upper class, or, if she couldn’t get married, a governess or teacher who would share her accomplishments with the next generation.

(To be fair, almost none of the trappings of an upper-middle/upper class male education had anything to do with the kind of career training that college frequently is today, either. Men were educated to know the cultural touchpoints of their class and fit in with their peers.)

There are reasons that an individual person/character might specifically object to embroidery, but it was far from the only “useless” thing that an unconventional heroine would be required to do against her inclination by her conventional mother/grandmother/aunt/chaperone. Embroidery stands out to modern audiences because most of the other accomplishments are now valued as gender-neutral arts and skills.

“The Embroidery Frame”, by Mathilde Weil, ca. 1900 (LOC 98501309)

So, some thoughts for writers of historical fiction (or fantasy that’s supposed to be just like the 19th/18th/17th/etc century):

- If your heroine doesn’t like embroidery, she probably doesn’t like a number of other things she’s expected to do. Don’t pull out embroidery as either more expected or more onerous than them. Does she hate to sit still? I’d imagine she also dislikes drawing and practicing the piano. Would she prefer to do academic subjects? She probably also resents learning French instead of Latin, and music and dancing. Does she hate enforced femininity? Then she’d most likely have a problem with all of the accomplishments.

- If your heroine just and specifically doesn’t like embroidery, try to show in the narrative that that’s not because it’s objectively bad, and only able to be liked by the boring. Have another sympathetic character do it while talking to the heroine. Note that the hero carries a flame-stitched wallet that’s his sister’s work. Emphasize the heroine’s emotional connection to her deceased or absent mother through her affection for clothing or upholstery that her mother embroidered - or through a mourning picture commemorating her. There are all kinds of things you can do to show that it’s a personal preference rather than a stupid craft that doesn’t take talent and skill!

mourning picture for Daniel Goodman, probably embroidered by a Miss Goodman, 1803 (MMA 56.66)

#history #women's history #writing #embroidery #19th century #18th century #17th century #victorian #georgian #regency

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voluptuarian · 3 years

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“Medieval” Media on TV checklist

It’s in the UK. They can name it whatever they want, but it’s supposed to be the UK. (And not anywhere specific either-- is it Cornwall, Yorkshire, Aberdeen? None of the above, and also all.) So of course, it was filmed in Hungary, Croatia, and 2 French castles. Also it’s always winter because in medieval-fantasy-old-times-England it was always winter, always cold and gray, and always muddy, because of Christianity. Or something.

Paganism stand-in religion that is free-love-feminism-horned-god-bambi-rainbow-divine-feminine-oh-goddess!-silver-ravenwolf-glitter-farts and gives you magic powers and probably Disney Princess animal-handling skills. Clergy are female except for the only relevant character who is male and also probably Merlin, wear woad and Ren faire face paint, and are free of dogma or structure despite somehow having once governed. Now pushed into the shadows by “new” Christianity stand-in that hunts followers of the “old” religion as heretics.

Grimdark and repressive Christianity stand-in that rules with a patriarchal iron first and has made everyone miserable. Inexplicably Protestantism-based and Evangelical-inspired. Despite claiming to be medieval, no mention of Mary, Saints, feast days, pilgrimage, mystery plays, music, rosaries or medals, icons or relics, or probably even confession-- if you get lucky somebody might mention a Nail of the Cross or have communion. None of the clergy really believe unless they’re zealots, or sympathetic-and-tragically-misguided (and probably self-hating lesbians or something), everyone else is there out of ambition. Unlike the “old” religion, this one has zero divine or magical power and if it appears to have, that will actually come from demons-- who are real, although “new” God isn’t. Exists just to police sex and personal expression, self-flagellate, and guilt trip characters vaguely about “sin” without providing any discussion of what level sin it is or how many Hail Mary’s must be said to expatiate it.

Witch hunting mania which combines Renaissance Inquisition with independent early modern Puritan witch finding-- somehow is both Church-sponsored and widespread. Goes after women who are too sexy and independent, women who can read, anyone who believes in birth control, and the protagonist’s mother. Also followers of “old” religion who are usually secretly the above. Anyone caught will be burned at the stake, because hanging isn’t flashy enough.

Corsets as outerwear. Because bodices and corsets are the same thing. And everyone wore their underwear over their clothes. Victorian tightlacing de rigeur to combat wandering wombs and female mobility. If a female character wears armor, it too, is probably a corset. The enlightened heroine finally abandons hers with a feminine gasp of relief-- and no lingering health issues from years of tightlacing-- and her titties stay up anyway because of the Wonderbra she has on underneath.

Priests look like Martin Luther or the Ku Klux Klan. Nuns-- if they exist-- are only there to get killed, possessed, or dominated by male clergy (and possibly squeeze in an ill-fated lesbian romance before doing any of the former). No one has ever heard of an abbess and if you bring the subject up they’ll burn you at the stake.

If there are any Romans, they are exclusively played by Irish or German actors, with crisp Shakespearean accents. If there’s a German, they’re Dutch or Russian. If the “English” characters are actually English, they must be Southerners doing a basic British accent; if not they’re played by Americans doing no accent at all.

Chrome plate armor was all the rage in 500 AD

Despite witnessing the magic of “the old religion” firsthand, and being born and raised in the “new” one, the protagonist is an atheist, and even if he should meet god in person will steadfastly refuse to believe in Him. Because he’s just too cool and enlightened for that.

The plague is ever present, and has no name, since no one needs to define which plague, because there has only ever been the one. Other than starvation or being killed by the Baddie’s henchmen or the Church, it’s the only way anyone has ever died (except for pregnant women, who all die in childbirth.) Symptoms include fever, coughing, concealer appearing inexplicably on the lips, and then a few dramatic final words.

Nobody brushes their teeth because it’s Olde Tymes (incorrect) and nobody takes baths because it’s Satanic (also incorrect) yet every character with the exception of somebody only credited as “Ancient One-Eyed Old Coot” is clean, has shiny hair, no BO, and mouthfuls of big white teeth. Also perfume was never invented in this world, and the only beverage is water, mostly drunk from the hands at random streams, which are never mucked up or disease-carrying.

All the peasants dress in throw blankets and the remnants of Water World’s costuming department in a color range going from “Black Death” to “Dun”, accessorized with warts and fresh mud. The nobles meanwhile, drowning in money and with trade access to China dress like they were sent to The Wall, with the exception of “sexy slut” character who wears magenta crushed velvet off-the-shoulder gowns, and the only gay guy in the movie, who has slashed sleeves in 1350 and is one gold chain away from a rap career.

During interviews the cast will all say how they “wouldn’t have survived in medieval times” with all the mud and disease and sexual repression and they would have probably been “burned at the stake” for reading or swearing. The women fulfill their contractual obligation to complain about their corsets, yet another reason they would have died in “medieval times”. Somebody mentions the plague.

The harvest will be burned a dozen times, all the livestock will be slaughtered, the populace will end up homeless and starving, (which will of course, only concern the protagonist, who must dutifully share a crust of plain bread with some toothless vagrant) but once The Baddie is slain peace will return to the land and the infrastructure will magically rebuild itself, miraculously re-planting fields and restocking larders. Also it’s Spring now.

#I was annoyed and had some time on my hands #game of thrones #cursed netflix #every 'medieval knight movie' ever #middle ages #medieval

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elenamiria · 3 years

Text

A False Marriage

Obi-Wan Kenobi x Reader

Rating: PG-13 Summary: On a recon mission you and Obi-Wan must pretend to be a married couple. This brings feelings to light that neither of you realized were there. Written for @sugared-strawberrys who was a winner of my 600 follower giveaway! I hope you enjoy this, I absolutely loved writing it. It turned out really soft and I hope you don't mind 🥰 Also I really can’t help myself with the tropes in this one haha oops. And this is the inspiration for the dress reader wears in this. Word Count: 3.2k Warnings: Tension, kissing, mentions of sexual situations, fem reader, talks about braided hair and putting hair in an updo Tags: @crazycatladyjenga @oneirnaut , @a-dorin , @blxwjobsforclones, @lynnie51 @katrynec @mistermiraclee @theelvenvalkyrie , @ifvckedurmom Masterlist & Obi-Wan Kenobi Masterlist

You had tried to hide the terse look on your face as you sat next to Obi-Wan on your transport to a high class gala on Alderaan for your mission, but unfortunately you were never good at holding you expressions in check. You would have felt much more comfortable in your A-wing than the civilian ship you and your mission partner were travelling in.

A short sigh left your mouth as you tried not to worry yourself about the mission, after all there wasn't much you could do to change your circumstances. Your brief noise caught the attention of Obi-Wan and he tilted his head towards you, taking in your tense features. A small smile covered his lips as he quipped, "Come now, it's not as if you actually had to marry me."

You rolled your eyes at his statement and shot a facetious glare his way, "Not everything is about you Master Kenobi."

Settling back into your seat you allowed your eyes to slide to the window in front of you watching space pass by. Though you could certainly see why he would think your little huff was directed at him considering you had been less than pleased at your mission partner when in the mission debrief. It wasn't that you lacked respect for the Jedi General in fact you held him in the highest regard. However, your perfectionist nature and the fact that Obi-Wan seemed to be naturally gifted in most things he did led to a fiercely competitive friendship through the both of your lives. In truth you weren't really upset that you had been paired with him, the frustration stemmed mainly from within and your worry that you would make a fool of yourself in front of the esteemed Jedi next to you.

Apparently you missed his reply, lost in your own thoughts, and you were startled from your racing thoughts by a call of your name. Turning abruptly you met his genuinely concerned gaze and you blinked blankly at him for a second until he prompted, "Are you are alright?"

This time your huff was directed towards him and you narrowed your eyes in annoyance, this was just like him to question you like that. You knew he was truly just wanting to ensure there was nothing wrong but the part of your brain that enjoyed pushing his buttons seemed to take over as you muttered, "Fine. Just thinking about how I have to pretend that I, your wife, let you keep your hair like that."

Obi-Wan's mouth parted and a rather indignant noise flew from him before he glared back at you, one hand subconsciously tugging at the end of his long locks, "Yes, well at least you don't have to deal with a partner who's recon missions tend to go as well as falling into a sarlacc pit goes."

An audible gasp flew from you as you spun towards him, your face heating in anger, and you spit out, "You're lucky I don't have my lightsaber on me Kenobi!" A smirk covered his lips and you knew whatever was coming next would only serve to further provoke you. Your thoughts were proven absolutely correct as Obi-Wan smugly questioned, "I think rather it's you who's lucky that your weapon isn't on you as we both know how embarrassing it would be for me to best you after that little quip."

Having known Obi-Wan for so long you could pretty easily predict what was going to come out of his mouth and this time you were ready. You let out a short laugh before retorting, "I'd only hope that you'd grant me the small mercy of knocking me out so I don't have to listen to you prattle on anymore." "My dear it seems that would be the most beneficial option for both of us." Came Kenobi's smooth reply. Crossing your arms and sinking further down into your seat you snapped back a short 'fine' and allowed the space craft to fall into silence. It remained that way for majority of the few hours left in flight, the quiet only disturbed by the occasional question as you went over the mission plans again. The mission in question was to find out if a high ranking Alderaan official was secretly pushing a separatist agenda - something that Bail Organa's wife had become suspicious of. You had questioned why this wasn't simply a solo mission and much to your displeasure had found out that this man had a penchant for married women it seemed, thus here the two of you were.

Thanks to your rigorous study of the mission details it didn't seem all that long until you were arriving on Alderaan and being escorted to your room within the royal palace. When you arrived you barely had time to take in your surroundings before Obi-Wan was softly muttering that he would get ready first and you could make yourself comfortable. He quickly retreated to the bathroom of the luxurious accommodations and you took a moment to take a look around. Though the room was grand it was decorated minimally, not that it mattered when a large window gave a stunning view of the snowy topped mountains.

You took a long breath to soak in the beauty that you didn't often get to see within the bustling confines of the city before turning and setting your bags down. One bag was dedicated solely to the gown you were supposed to wear tonight - a truly impressive dress that made you feel like royalty and at the same time completely out of your element. Pulling it gently out of the bag you laid it across the couch, ensuring there were minimal wrinkles. Satisfied you let your eyes roam the room and then you settled your gaze on the bed in the room. Blinking for a few seconds your head quickly turned to look around the rest of the room as if you could will a second bed into existence. A deep exhale left your mouth as you pinched the bridge of your nose already deciding that you would offer to let Obi-Wan take the bed, after all you had been the one to pick a fight with him on the ship, it seemed the least you could do.

Settling on the couch next to your dress you pulled out a small mirror and began to undo the tight braids your hair was in to hopefully save you some time in the bathroom. It wasn't often that you wore your hair down and your could feel your scalp thanking you as you lightly massaged any sore spots. You weren't sure how much time had passed, once again allowing your thoughts and worries about the mission consume your thoughts despite your best efforts to simply relax, and you startled slightly when the refresher door slid open. Obi-Wan strolled out dressed in a similar style to Bail Organa and you wondered if perhaps the senator hadn't lent him some of his clothing. Though all thoughts flew from your head as he passed the window and the sun caught on his cheekbones, highlighting his skin and lighting up his brilliant blue eyes. You could have sworn time slowed down as he offered you a gentle smile and your breath caught in your throat as you tried to regain some of your sense. It was only after a few moments that you noticed he had trimmed his hair, where the curls had fallen just past his shoulders they now just brushed them. Had he done that because of your snarky statement? Your brow furrowed slightly as you questioned why you were so caught up in his appearance in the first place and the moment was broken by your gaze snapping to the floor.

Obi-Wan's gaze lingered on you, a slight frown covering his face as he wondered if he had somehow upset you when you quickly gathered your belongings and practically fled into the bathroom. A small noise distracted him from your retreating form and he bent down to pick up the fake engagement and wedding rings you had been given to wear. Standing he turned to call out to you but as the refresher door slid shut he simply held onto them, figuring he could give you them before the two of you left for the gala.

Staring into the mirror you sighed deeply, shaking your head. The only reason you were distracted by Obi-Wan's appearance was because of your nerves about the mission you had decided. Nothing more and nothing less. You had certainly never looked at Obi-Wan in that light before - though there were all the times when you found yourself captivated by his grace in combat and how his......no you definitely had never seen him like this before.

Focusing back to the task at hand you applied your makeup and finished putting your hair into a simple updo, one that you had done before and that was elegant and yet functional at keeping your hair out of your face. And then came the dress. You disrobed rather quickly, folding your clothes into a neat pile, and stepped into the dress. Pulling it on you could admit that it truly was a beautiful dress though as your arms slid into the small off the shoulder sleeves you could tell that there was no practicality in the dress. Your arms seemed to fit into the sleeves a bit snugly and thus your movement was quite severely limited, an issue you found when attempting to reach back and lace the back of the dress. After several futile attempts you hung your head in defeat, taking a deep breath before calling out for your Jedi partner. You waited several seconds before calling out again, this time hearing several hurried footsteps before you heard your name come from the opposite side of the door. Sighing you gave in and as quietly as you could manage (while still ensuring he could hear you) asked, "Will you please come help me?"

The door slid open and you stubbornly stared at the counter as your face heated in embarrassment, "I just- I can't get the laces and I'm not really even sure how they're supposed to go. Please don't laugh, I know I look completely ridiculous and I-"

You were cut off by a soft, calming call of your name and then you felt Obi-Wan's fingers brush at your back, gathering the laces. His gentle tone caught you off guard yet again and you stilled, chancing a glance in the mirror. Blue eyes caught yours and the serious look on his face had you freezing where you stood. Deftly he laced up the back, tugging and pulling as lightly as he could, only breaking eye contact for a few moments at a time. His sureness had you feeling more calm by the second and when he finished, tucking the laces in between the layers of your dress, his gentle smile brought you back to reality. Turning your face heated for an entirely different reason as you realized how close you were, gaze dropping to the floor again.

A warm hand captured your left hand and gently raised it, calloused fingers brushing softly over yours. Looking up at him in confusion you were met with a mischievous grin and his opposite hand procured the rings you were supposed to be wearing. You let out a small laugh as you relaxed completely in his grip, "Looks like I'm not getting out of this marriage am I Obi-Wan?"

"Most certainly not my dear." A smile crossed your face as he slid the rings onto your finger delicately. Your other hand rose to run through the hair at the nape of his neck as you questioned, "Did you cut your hair for me?"

General Kenobi tensed slightly at your question and as your eyes met his a light pink dusted his cheeks. That was answer enough for you and an airy laugh fell from your lips, "Thank you darling, it looks wonderful."

Purposefully you drawled out the pet name in an attempt at his accent. There was a pause and the Obi-Wan let out an equally as bright laugh before he squeezed your hand, "Well I'm glad you think so. However, I do believe it is time for us to head to the gala."

As if sensing your nerves about to spike Obi spoke again in a teasing lilt, "And you don't look ridiculous, you truly look absolutely ravishing."

With that he swept out of the room, leaving you to pick your jaw up off of the floor and your hands smoothed down your dress before you followed after him - an air of confidence overtaking you.

The two of you arrived shortly after the gala had began, a steady flow of officials and ambassadors filling the room. Swallowing you took a step closer to Obi-Wan and a comforting hand met your lower back. Sharp eyes scanned the room as the two of you searched for the target.

"I don't see him." You said lowly and Obi-Wan nodded in agreement, "Nor I. While we wait would your prefer to mingle with others, dance or should we make ourselves known at the bar?"

You opted for the last option, as it offered a solid vantage point of everyone entering and having a small drink never hurt. Courteously Obi-Wan guided you through the crowds and even pulled out your seat for you, ensuring you were sat comfortably before taking his own seat next to you. Ordering quickly your partner slid around on the stool to face outwards and you turned to face him, your thighs brushing together lightly.

The contact had you taking a healthy swallow of your drink once it arrived and then you distracted yourself by keeping an eye out on the entrance. A warm palm settled on your knee and a shock shot up your spine causing you to nearly choke on your drink. Glancing at Obi-Wan you noticed his eyes trailing someone. A look towards his eyeline confirmed that he had located the target, who in a stroke of good fortune was heading directly towards the bar. Deciding it would be best to play up your false marriage you softly called out for Obi-Wan's attention, which was promptly given. You inhaled deeply as you made eye contact and whispered, "Do you trust me?"

Obi's eyes searched yours as he nodded and surely stated 'of course'. That gave you the courage to lean forwards, left hand coming up to cup his face, and connect your lips together. The Jedi jolted and froze for a split-second before responding to the kiss more eagerly than you had anticipated. His lips were soft and warm, moving in tandem with yours, and when his hand slid up to your thigh a small nip on your lower lip had you melting into him. In the moment everything faded away - the mission, the crowd surrounding you, the cacophony of sound - it was only you and him, that's all that mattered. His other hand rose to cup your hand on the side of his face and he gave it a soft squeeze as he parted from you, a warmth gleaming in his eyes that hadn't been there before.

You felt your face heating as he gave you a sparkling smile, you pulled back slightly but he kept your hand clasped in his. A brush of his lips against the tips of his fingers sparked something in your lower stomach and you had to suppress a gasp as he then pressed a kiss to your palm, lips trailing to the pulse point on your wrist. As his lips made contact you swore you forgot how to breath, his cerulean eyes locked with yours as your lips parted in a silent exhale. With that gentle touch he slowly rose, brushed a stray hair off of your cheek, and bent to your level. Beard tickling at your cheek he whispered to you, "He's directly behind you, I think we peaked his interest darling."

Standing up to his full height again he made it clear that he would be right back before pressing a kiss to your forehead, seemingly leaving you alone with the target, your heart racing from the intimate touches. You knew that he wasn't going far, the banquet hall in the palace had secret eavesdropping locations hidden behind screens and you knew he would be retreating to one of those.

Spinning to face the bar again you caught the bartenders attention to order another drink and a gruff voice spoke up from next to you that he would be paying for your drink. A false smile coated your face as you turned to thank him and you made sure to show off the ring on your left hand as you finished the first drink. As the man gave you a smug smile you knew you had him exactly where you wanted him.

He turned out to be a ridiculously easy mark, caring more about impressing a stranger who he thought he could fuck than keeping his mouth shut about his views. It was only after you got the information you needed to relay to Senator Organa that Obi-Wan swooped back in. His arm sliding around your waist and he pulled you close to him had the stranger grumbling as the two of you excused yourselves. To keep up appearances you made your way around the ballroom once before sneaking out. You weren't going to lie the two drinks had you speaking a bit more freely than normal which led to several bouts of unrestrained laughter from the two of you as you made your way back to your quarters, Obi-Wan’s arm never leaving the comfortable way he had it wrapped around your waist.

When you reached the doors Obi-Wan hesitated and you tilted your head at him in confusion. There was a pause before he spoke, "I know throughout our years we've both strived to best each other and given that you are a fierce competitor I wouldn't have it any other way. However, I enjoyed tonight and how easy it was with you."

You simply smiled and entwined your hands, pulling him into your quarters for the night. Once the door slid shut you pulled him into another soft kiss, this time it was short and sweet, leaving a tender smile on both of your faces.

It seemed there were many unspoken things left to be said but for tonight as the two of you lay on opposite sides of the bed (both of you had refused to let the other sleep on the couch) nothing else needed to be said. It wasn't long before you had rolled over and scooted close to the center with Obi-Wan following shortly after. As he wrapped you up in a cozy embrace you nuzzled into his chest, sleep nearly overtaking you but you couldn't let him go to sleep without a teasing reminder of, "I hope you know this won't make me go easy on you when we spar. I'll still have no problem beating you." A chuckle rumbled in Obi-Wan's chest as he muttered something that suspiciously sounded like 'you can certainly try'.

#obi wan kenobi x reader #obi wan kenobi x you #obi wan kenobi x y/n #star wars fanfiction #reader insert #obi wan kenobi #obi-wan x reader #obi-wan x you #obi wan x y/n

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todoscript · 4 years

Text

Syndicate — [ 1 ]

Parts | one ; two ; three

Genre | Mafia AU / Anti-Villain AU.

Pairing(s) | MafiaBosses!TodoBakuDeku x Fem!Reader

Rating | Mature

Words | 5.2k+

Summary | Being the lover of, not one, but three influential young men, who are the leaders of the most wanted crime syndicate in Japan, it is no surprise that other eyes are watching you beyond the three’s own.

Warnings | Violence. Cursing/crude language. Guns. Mafia talk/“negotiating”. Lots of fighting. Reader is inspired by the femme fatale archetype. Polyamorous relationship. Characters are aged-up. Sexual undertones/implied sexual content. Possessiveness. Heavily self-indulgent. Written in 3rd POV. Shouto’s “codename” is Mercury (b/c the planet is both half-hot and half-cold lol).

Author’s Notes | Hello all! This is the first ever fanfic I’ve posted on tumblr! Sorry, the idea was lingering in my head until I suddenly felt the burst of energy to start writing this out of nowhere in the dead of 3AM. I’ve written fanfiction before but I’ve never published anything for tumblr so this is exciting.

The air is still, nearly silent apart from the nocturnal creatures that scurry and prowl through alleys, navigating over the dewy darkness between the seams. The moon graces the gloom of the night with its luster across desolated areas in Japan. Business hours have longed past as services are halted until the next coming day. Civilians are nowhere to be found, tucked away in their homes with their lights flickered off.

What remains alive in Japan during this hour is the wind cast through the streets, the scamper of animals in the nocturne, and a low hum of an ebony vehicle driven down roads of street lights.

“Whatever the fuck Overhaul wants better be worth my fucking time, Deku,” hisses a peeved Katsuki Bakugou, leaning against the window of their sleek automobile and looking highly uninterested during the ride. Izuku Midoriya, the young man with the head of unruly verdant hair, nods his head. His expression is mild at his friend’s usual discontented tone.

“Kai Chisaki—the head boss of the Shie Hassaikai yakuza—wants to negotiate with us, Kacchan. Surely it would be advantageous for us to hear him out. If anything we’ll manage to at least squeak some intel from him to reference for later on.” A glint rises in the male’s eyes.

“‘Some intel’ ain’t enough. If they’re gonna drag all three of us out here, then it better be for something good, or else I might have to let off some explosions to satisfy my boredom.” Bakugou’s quirk begins to pop and crack around his palms at the idea of letting loose.

Shouto Todoroki—the third of the trio—sighs exasperatingly at his fellow inflamed mafia boss, running his hand through his red and white tresses.

“Bakugou, I’d advise against it. Knowing the location we’re heading to, your explosions would only cause a ruckus in the area that’d get the annoying heroes involved. I’ve had enough dealing with those fools as it is and we also don’t need the men in blue following after our trail.”

“Shut up Icy-Hot! If this ‘negotiation’ isn’t beneficial to us, I’ll find my own way to make them pay for wasting our damn time!” Bakugou yells.

These three young men—Izuku Midoriya, Katsuki Bakugou, and Shouto Todoroki—are known as the bosses of one of Japan’s most powerful organized crime syndicates.

Notorious, ruthless, and authoritative, these three, despite their youth, have secured a name for themselves within the underground crime world. Aside from their tenacity and skill, the strength of each of their quirks played a large factor in their rise among the rivaling crime groups. They easily snuffed out the weak competition without so much as a sweat, and working under them are other strong combatants, each of them possessing their own unique and powerful quirks.

With everything at their disposal, the Yuuei mafia group quickly obtained a vast, large territory within the capital of Japan—the epicenter of where all the shady deals and disputes occur.

“We didn’t even bring Angel Face with us. What a drag.” Bakugou gruffs. He leans back in his seat, arms crossed, and cushioned behind his head as the lamps flicker past them, the dim lights splayed across the endless road.

“Letting ____ rest was the least we could do after her successful infiltration at the political officials gala,” the middle of the three states matter-a-factly.

“Especially after the rounds she endured even after her mission,” Todoroki adds, vividly remembering the gala dress cascading down her skin and clinging to her body that night, as well as their antics that ensued afterward.

He recalls the beautiful, red formal gown she wore for the occasion, the material hugging her figure perfectly and accentuating her curves in all the right places. God, he prayed that something within him wouldn’t stir at the thought of it again.

They all remembered it quite clearly. It made their fingers itch the very evening of the event, yearning to touch all the dips and arcs that sculpted her body. Her hair, styled up and tied with a matching silk red ribbon, kept the skin of her neck bare and begging to be marked while gold lined her wrists and collar bones. To say she was a goddess that night would be an understatement. The three could barely keep their hands off her before she even left the mansion, let alone attend the gala. But once her mission was complete, she arrived home to be thoroughly loved and lusted, with three young and hungry men indulging in all the divine fruits this celestial being had to offer to them.

The girl they speak of is not only their right-hand woman but also the three’s beloved paramour. Since their journey into coming to power, ____ has been with them through thick and thin and has become an influential asset in attaining their position.

Beautiful, yet dangerous, she proved to be an incredibly powerful fighter in many forms of combat in combination with her quirk, along with having a gift for deception that allowed her to climb her way to the top of the pack. Naturally, the trio found themselves drawn to her, not just for her strength and beauty, but also her passion and ability to mend the spirits of those around her. If it weren’t her, the Yuuei mafia group would not be as intact and well-oiled as it is today.

“Besides, we have some of our best following in the car behind us in case anything suspicious happens,” Midoriya gestures to the similar-looking sleek and dark-tinted car trailing behind their own.

“I very much doubt we need them, but it’s best not to worry Angel too much while she’s resting,” Todoroki murmurs, crossing his legs.

A few more turns and they’ve eventually entered the area of a vacant warehouse located on the edge of Japan near the shore.

The moment their vehicle is directed to a stop, the three bosses exit. Bakugou vehemently slams his door, eyeing the building with a vexing glare.

“Let’s get this shit show over with. This better be good.”

The warehouse is eerily quiet in the dead of the night and smells of salt from the ocean behind it. Spotting them walking to the entrance, the watchmen of the Shie Hassaikai yakuza hastily open the doors enclosing the warehouse. The hinges bear an uncomfortable creaking sound that jars through the silence.

“Oh, he’s here! He’s here! My cute little Izuku is here!” hollers a shrill voice belonging to an all-too-energetic head of messy, bunned-up blonde hair. The said boy blinks twice at her enthusiasm as they approach the lone wooden table situated in the center of the warehouse.

Uh, do I know her? He ponders for a second before dismissing the thought.

A pale man with gloved hands and shaggy auburn hair holds a hand out to halt the girl behind him. “Calm down Toga, we haven’t spoken of negotiations yet, so I need you to be quiet.”

Toga pouts, nearly grasping a silver blade at her side but stills herself for now. In the meantime, she opts to fidget with the tubular machine wrapped around her body.

The three look up to view a small group illuminated by the light fixed above the wooden table. Their eyes swiftly count seven or eight of them surrounding that area, including the ringleader, and likely more hidden somewhere in the darkness around them. After all, any fine and experienced villainous group would know better than to invite the bosses of the most dangerous crime syndicate without being thoroughly prepared for a possible scuffle to occur.

However, for now, they all advance with the notion to talk first before unleashing quirks and violence (well most of them anyway).

“Welcome, welcome. I see you made it to this place without much trouble; you’re right on time,” Overhaul greets the three young men mildly, “Deku, Ground Zero, and Mercury.”

Midoriya walks forward as the center of their entourage to return the cordial greeting. “Yes, it’s nice to finally meet you, Kai Chisaki of the Shie Hassaikai yakuza. Otherwise known as Overhaul.”

“Ah, so you know of me and my cause. It seems our reputation precedes us.”

“Of course. The Shie Hassaikai yakuza has long been in business in the crime world…” Midoriya muses, “Though they’ve wrung out past their former glory. Having since been pushed back into the underground after the rise of heroes.”

Bakugou smirks, close to letting out a snicker at the backhanded comment.

It’s true. While the Shie Hassaikai were one of the main criminal groups running the yakuza underground, that all soon fell and crumbled as the surge of heroes came into society. It was only after the former boss’ grandson, Kai Chisaki, came into power and took leadership that their name grew back into prominence once again, albeit little by little.

“Why you little–” A man donning a long white raincoat and plague doctor mask swiftly appears with a pistol pointed in Midoriya’s direction, none too amused by the remark. However, he’s cut off by a wall of ice erected at Midoriya’s side.

“Watch where you point those toys you little rat,” Todoroki sneers, and the tone of his voice nearly exposes chills to the air.

“Calm down, Chrono. We’re the ones that invited them as guests, thus we need to treat them like so.”

The white-haired subordinate withdraws at the words of his leader, retracting the gun back into the pocket of his coat.

“I apologize, he’s simply on edge over the fact we have some pretty powerful people at our doorstep. You’ll have to excuse him.”

“It’s quite all–”

“Did we come here to talk, or did we come here to fight?” Bakugou barges through, shoving past Midoriya with no restraint.

“I thought this was a fucking negotiation, not an apology fess. If one of your dogs is so edgy, I’d be happy to give him a good thrashing to satiate him if you want,” his raised hand sparks and flickers in the dark, “If not then get to it, Overhaul,” he threatens. Midoriya sighs.

“I think we’re simply all… piqued as to why this meeting was demanded out of nowhere and scheduled for the dead of the night no less, but I’m sure you have some important matters to discuss with us right, Overhaul?” Midoriya reasons, a sly grin on his lips.

“Right, let's get to it shall we?” Approaching closer to the table separating them, Overhaul continues, “First off, I must congratulate you on successfully infiltrating that gala the other night. Not many crime organizations can sneak into a party of that caliber. Especially when it’s so heavily guarded and kept secretive to all suspicious eyes of the dark,” he commends, digging a hand into the pocket of his jacket.

The three exchange quick, wary glances from the corner of their eyes that the opposite party misses.

“You were there?” Todoroki questions bluntly in which Overhaul hums in response.

“Hm, yes. But for different reasons, I’m sure. You see, I’ve been… examining little details of the Yuuei mafia group recently. It fascinates me how well-oiled and efficient you are at running your organization, so I began to ponder: ‘How do they do it?’ Little did I know, the answer all became more than clear to me from what I saw at that gala,” the auburn-haired man drawls, finally plucking out a photo from his pocket and sliding it across the wood under the light.

The moment the three recognized the image, their eyes widened, soon shifting into visages of sheer hostility at the next statement pronounced.

“This girl here? I want her.”

Within the confines of the paper is ____, dressed in the red gown she wore the very night of the gala, a masquerade mask over her features with the purpose to obscure herself in the throng.

The three before Overhaul seethe vessels of wrath.

“What did you just say? Do you even know what you’re asking of us?” Todoroki feels icy and heated atmospheres form on his opposing left and right sides upon hearing Overhaul’s words, sensing the tension rising around his fellow partners as well.

“The girl, I must say, does excellent work at her job. She’s skilled and tactical, having infiltrated many influential organizations and assassinated several powerful faces getting in the way of your mafia group. Such precision, efficiency, and beauty makes her the perfect woman, wouldn’t you agree?” He picks up the picture, bringing it up next to him.

Given the deadly pressure in the air, the next words he utters might be the final nail in his coffin.

“Well, I want you to hand her over to me.”

The nail is hit. There’s a lingering silence before hell nearly breaks loose and the next motions could deliver his soul down the River of Styx.

Fueled by blood-boiling anger and annoyance, Bakugou charges forward to land an explosive hit on the yakuza boss. “LIKE HELL WE WOULD, YA FUCKING BASTARD!” He’s thwarted by a yellow barrier emerging to shield the leader from the attack, courtesy of a henchman at his left side. The blonde jumps back, his hands still crackling and his rage not dissipating anytime soon. “Don’t go spewing a bunch of shit outta your mouth!”

“Now… let’s be rational or you’ll start getting dirt everywhere...” Overhaul dusts off his shoulder before resuming the conversation nonchalantly, “Of course I’ll provide you with compensation. I wouldn’t be so naive as to expect to be given something so valuable without offering payment after all.”

With a snap of his fingers a large, bulky man promptly lays a silver briefcase on the table. The locks click open to reveal wads of cash layering the case to the brim, enough to flabbergast and entice any common citizen in Japan.

“If this amount isn’t enough, I have another briefcase with—”

A jolting sound of the wooden table and metal briefcase breaking beneath Midoriya’s foot is enough to diminish the rest of Overhaul’s remark, signifying their blunt answer to his offer.

“What a waste of a night it’s been. Presenting money to us in hopes that we’d simply hand over our beloved like she’s some prostitute for sale? You're more of a fool than I took you for, Kai Chisaki,” Each word that rolls off Midoriya’s tongue is laced with venom. Such malice is enough to paralyze those who hear it, as if it would be the last statement they’ll ever listen to before hitting the concrete dead.

Reasoning with the trio any further is equivalent to bargaining with the god of the underworld, offering nothing but your knees on the floor and a sad pleading voice, only to be whisked back to the deepest, darkest chambers of hell.

Overhaul simply pauses before following with a long, testy sigh.

“A no then? Alright. Toga.”

The bun-headed blonde pounces forward at the command almost instantaneously, knife in her grasp and ready to swing. Midoriya moves to the side with ease, evading the blade as well as dodging a puncture from a needle. His agility is manifested in green electric currents of aura.

“Ooh, I finally get to cut up and obtain cute Izuku’s yummy blood!” She grins psychotically, keeping both eyes trained on the green-haired boy. “Heehee, I’ve been waiting for this day! Ever since I saw that photo of you all bruised up in a fight, I had to have you all to myself! I just love a man all red and bloodied!” Toga exclaims in utter glee, giggling like a schoolgirl meeting her celebrity idol.

Midoriya grimaces, nearly shivering at her excitement over announcing her neurotic confession to him. Her contorted facade is not earning her any points either. Taking notice of the wary expression that crosses his brows, Toga grins wider.

“It’s OK, even if you don’t like me now, you’ll definitely like me when I get a drop of that girl’s blood and transform into her! We’ll look so much alike, you’ll have heart-eyes for me too!” Her features curve into a look of pure hysteric that leaves Midoriya speechless, so much so it takes a loud blast hurled past him to finally bring his senses back to the conflict.

“Move it, Deku!” Bakugou’s attacks are relentless and powerful, but Toga’s nimbleness prevents her from getting hit.

“Deku, Ground Zero, back up,” Todoroki raises his left hand, the corresponding side flaring with heat before quickly igniting into bright hot flames enough to cover his entire arm. “You lot have some nerve to call us and arrange this abhorrent deal under the guise of a ‘negotiation.’ I’ll incinerate you all for even thinking you could take her from us.”

His quirk is unleashed in a flurry of fire that’s launched toward his enemies.

“Dabi,” Overhaul signals and a lanky man with patched, burnt scars and skin held together by staples and stitches steps forward, triggering his blue blazes to combat the red-orange ones. The infernos collide into a firestorm that soon scatters and disperses due to a power struggle.

“Tch,” Todoroki narrows his brows, annoyed.

“Hm, the brat’s not all talk after all,” Dabi’s expression remains stoic while his hand hovers in front of him, still swallowed by his azure flames. Wordlessly he releases his blazes once more only to be countered by Todoroki’s wall of ice diminishing the onslaught of fire.

On their end, Midoriya and Bakugou are in pursuit of the head honcho Overhaul himself, while attempting to throw blows at Toga along the way.

Now enveloped in energy that increases his strength and dexterity tenfold, it isn’t long until the green-haired young man catches up to crafty Toga’s momentum. With a grunt, Midoriya kicks forward, swinging his foot into the girl’s direction with tremendous force that’s too quick for her to avoid.

Toga braces herself for the impact but the attack never meets. Instead, a yellow shield materializes in front of her to take the blow, a crack now evident on the surface of the saffron safeguard. “Oooh! Izuku’s really out for blood! How thrilling!” she squeals, licking her lips.

“It’s that fucking barrier bastard again! Move over, I’ll kill him!” yells a pissed Bakugou who jumps over Midoriya’s head, running across the top of the manifested barrier. From there, he spots his offender.

Gritting his teeth, he dashes off the shield before it can disappear and uses it to propel himself forward. His palms glow and envelope themselves with heat as he holds them outward.

“Rappa! I can’t conduct another shield so quickly, get him!” Tengai, the one with the barrier quirk, hastens his partner. Rappa zealously swoops in front of him with iron-knuckle gloves ready.

“Oh no, you don’t! Try and fucking dodge this!” Bakugou brings his hands forward while still in midair, “Stun Grenade!” A radiant, gleaming light emits from his palms, effectively blinding all those within his vicinity.

Rappa and Tengai have no choice but to cover their eyes from the intensity of the light, leaving them wide open to strike!

Without hesitation, the ash-blonde creates two more explosions to launch himself forward, spinning in the air and gathering momentum before firing his attack encased in an explosive tornado.

“Howitzer Impact!!”

In an instance, a flash exudes in a fiery burst of nuclear reaction, which releases violent discharges of kinetic energy towards his enemies. The attack hits home, covering a chuck of the area with debris and rubble, and producing a hole on the right side of the warehouse.

Tengai and Rappa are incapacitated.

“Kac— Ground Zero, you went all out didn’t you…” Midoriya mutters while holding Toga down despite all her fidgeting. In a last-ditch effort, the girl draws out the spare knife tucked away in her utility belt, however the young man on top of her knocks it away before she can react any further.

“Toga, am I correct? I suggest you stand down, or I may have to break something to make you cooperate.” Midoriya’s warning exudes a menacing tone, in contrast to his former courteous character and the gentle features adorning his face. Yet Toga does not seem fazed by this.

“Heehee, you’re so cute when you make threats like that…” she giggles, shifting her head ever so slightly to catch glimpses of the male’s appearance. He’s quite disheveled down to his wrinkled suit, unbuttoned collar, sweat glistening on his forehead, and what’s this?

Toga peeks at a single crimson line split on the skin of his cheek with dilated pupils.

“Even though you were so fast, I at least managed to graze you just a teeny-tiny bit! That scarlet cut looks so nice on you, Izuku, aw how I wish I can give you more!” She prattles on and on, beaming over every utterance spoken past her lips. “I did say red is the best color on you, after all!”

Midoriya’s eyes narrow at her behavior, fists clenched and apt to deliver a silencing blow.

“Although… blue wouldn’t look half bad either.”

Unable to express confusion at her remark, he soon perceives a blast of cerulean blue flames aimed and released in his direction, forcing him to jump up to dodge the attack. Toga makes her escape after the fire diffuses, withdrawing next to Dabi. The patched man continues his onslaught on Todoroki and Midoriya.

“They’ve managed to defeat our spear and shield, and nearly took out Toga,” Overhaul’s stance is methodical and calculating, overseeing the fight from the back lines of his unit with a gloved hand beneath his chin. “I suppose it’s time to use that,” he declares.

Chrono briefly glances at him before reaching for a gun in the pocket of his coat—a different weapon from the pistol he pointed at Midoriya earlier. In a container held behind him, he produces a peculiarly shaped bullet, one that takes on the form of a cartridge with a hypodermic needle sticking out on one end.

“Dabi, when these bullets hit, that will be your chance to burn them all away,” orders the auburn-haired man. He raises an arm to prep for the signal as Chrono readies the gun wielded in his hand, positioning his target onto the spiky blonde mafia boss.

“Ha! You think a pathetic little gun is going to stop me?!” While Bakugou exudes confidence and arrogance, his dual-haired comrade is not as keen about the situation at hand.

Why would those fools try to use such a primitive method of fighting at this point? They saw how useless that gun was earlier… ponders Todoroki in the heat of battle, Unless…

“Ground Zero! Be careful! There’s something fishy about that weapon they’re using!” he warns, making the blonde’s expression fix into an irritated glare.

“Shut up Icy-Hot; I know what I’m doing! Why don’t you pay attention to patchwork over there before you get another scar!” Bakugou quips back, eyes never leaving Overhaul. “I’m gonna make this washout yakuza leader regret ever giving us a call to this useless negotiation.”

The man is impassive at the blonde’s threats, lips remaining in a fine line underneath his mask. His arm stays raised next to him for Chrono to acknowledge.

At once, Bakugou’s body launches back into action like a jet engine propelling a rocket. His movements gather more and more sweat to strengthen himself for another devastating assault.

“Pesky thing won’t stop moving…” mutters Chrono, hand continually shifting aim at Bakugou’s unpredictable tumbling. “I’ll just make you sit still!”

On command, arrow-shaped hair pierces through the fabric of his hood and extends straight to Bakugou. His quirk’s versatility and quick instincts allow him to evade the attack to the left with ease. However, it seems Chrono was waiting for that very moment as the blonde is now within his gun’s line of sight.

Overhaul draws his hand down, giving Chrono the signal to finally pull the trigger. A crack of a sonic boom resonates within the single millisecond it is shot. The dart is fired.

The gunshot rings throughout the space of the warehouse. Todoroki and Midoriya can barely register the shot in time to yell out to Bakugou, whose head turns toward the capsule’s velocity in almost slow motion.

Crap..! he curses, unable to move away to escape the bullet in time and preparing to embrace the shot.

However, it never makes its mark.

“Boss! Watch out!”

A gruff voice suddenly makes its debut within the fray, taking everyone by surprise as the newcomer throws himself in front of Bakugou, hardened arms crossed.

“What the—!”

Chrono watches in despair. The bullet ricochets right off the rock-like body of a man with spiked tufts of crimson red hair.

“What the hell? Red Riot?!” sputters a bewildered Bakugou at Kirishima’s abrupt entrance.

“D-Dammit!” Chrono tries to fire again to rectify his failure, but his attempt is in vain. Something muscly wraps around his arm tightly, tossing him away.

“Froppy!” Midoriya calls out to the girl as she retracts her froggy tongue, currently clung to the wall, and camouflaged into her surroundings. She reveals herself into the battle with a small “ribbit.”

“While you guys were inside, a bunch of their goons started surrounding our cars. We knew something shady was up, especially when we heard explosions coming from inside, so we busted our way in here right past them!” Kirishima explains, now standing back-to-back against Bakugou, “Seems like you’re fighting a battle too!”

“I see, so they planned on ambushing all of us if we didn’t comply with their deal,” says Todoroki. He fires more flames in their direction. “How pathetic. They were woefully unprepared.”

“Agreed! Ambushing is no way to fight! Real men would come at us head-on!” Kirishima emphasizes his fierceness through clanking his hardened fists against each other, jagged edges sparking.

“Red Riot! Froppy!” exclaims Midoriya, “Where are the others?”

Asui ribbits before answering, “They’re handling the rest of the—”

“L-Leader..! Leader!” a frantic voice shouts from the entrance of the warehouse, where a ragged up Shie Hassaikai henchman tries to pry inside.

“T-The girl..! She isn’t h-here, she isn’t— GAH!”

His message is interrupted. A menacing shadowy figure looms over the goon like a monster hiding within the dark and throws him back to the struggle outside, proceeding to rampage across the battlefield. Desperate cries leak out but to no avail.

Overhaul discerns the sputtered message:

The girl he so desired was not with them to begin with.

To his dismay, this fight was pointless. If what he sought could not be forcibly taken right then and there, then there is no reason to continue the battle. There was no prize to be won by the end of it all.

Now, he must adjust his plans due to the unfavorable news. How tragic.

At the thought of having lost time, energy, and resources, the yakuza leader pinches the bridge of his nose, utterly furious. There’s a pause in which Overhaul seethes an aura of killing intent over this frustration.

But it eventually simmers and subsides. What happens now cannot be changed, no matter how enraged he is. So he must take logical steps to preserve and remedy the repercussions, which to him was simple:

“We’re withdrawing.”

“What?” Dabi looks at him incredulously, “After all this?”

“Yes, they've taken down our spear and shield, and have wiped out the majority of the soldiers. If what we want isn’t here, then there is no point in staying,” Overhaul’s husky tone bears weight and authority at every word.

“Nemoto, grab Chrono from wherever he was thrown.”

“Yes, Overhaul. What about Rappa and Tengai?”

The auburn-haired man doesn’t so much as spare a glance toward his two defeated subordinates lying on the ground, “Leave them. They’re expendable to me.”

Nemoto nods, going to gather a knocked out Chrono thrown across the warehouse and now lying unconscious atop broken wooden crates.

Midoriya’s fists clenched tightly at the scene, realizing what the yakuza’s next plan of action was going to be.

“They’re trying to escape!”

“Oh, the fuck they are. I won’t let a single one of you bastards leave!” Bakugou bursts into the air, propelled by the explosions from his palms in hot pursuit, with Midoriya catching up thanks to his heightened speeds.

“Sorry boys, party’s over!” Toga intercepts the two using twin knives flung in their direction, catching them off guard. Dabi follows the diversion by gathering a massive amount of flames into his hands before swiftly releasing the kindled energy to erect a blue wall of fire throughout his surroundings.

“Bye Izuku~!” a feminine voice shrills from behind the fiery wall, becoming the last words they hear as they wait for the flames to dissipate, ultimately revealing that their enemies had already fled.

“Those fuckers couldn’t have gone far,” Bakugou doesn’t relent, poised on finding them and having them pay the full consequences of their actions. Midoriya grasps his shoulder, stopping him.

“Let them go, Kacchan. Considering the location they decided for this meeting, they likely fled by boat. We have no way of following them at the moment.”

Todoroki agrees, adding on, “Besides, there are more important things to worry about right now,” he casts his gaze to the wooden table Midoriya had broken prior to the fight transpiring. “For one, they’re after ____ and are willing to go to any lengths to get her. We need to head back to the mansion to make sure she’s safe.” There’s slight urgency evident in his tone. Despite their tenacity, the idea of having their beloved wrenched away is enough to render them even a little bit fearful. Had she been present in the conflict, there’s no telling what could have happened.

“And two,” Todoroki walks off to another site of the warehouse, picking up something dropped on the floor, “we need to figure out what this is.” In his hand, he holds the small capsule bullet that is now slightly dented thanks to the impact against Kirishima’s hardened skin.

The other two examine the capsule briefly until Bakugou decides to take it from Todoroki’s fingers for closer inspection. If Overhaul was so keen on using a gun to do away with them all, despite how inferior it was, then this must be no ordinary bullet.

The three decide to contain the item for further examination for now as they, Kirishima, and Asui make their way outside again. There, bodies of Shie Hassaikai thugs littered the floor after having been thoroughly beaten into submission. Tokoyami, Yaoyorozu, Uraraka, and Kaminari lean against the cars casually but remain attentive after the fight.

“It was quite an ill-planned move to dare to attack us in the night,” Tokoyami’s eyes closed in thought at the havoc he wreaked thanks to the amplified powers of his quirk. Kaminari snickers and boasts with an electric snap of his fingers, “Yakuza didn’t know what hit them, the mafia always stays on top.”

“Excellent work everyone, it seems the henchmen were of no trouble to you,” Midoriya commends the squad, “Now, we must leave before the police arrive on the scene to assess the damage.”

Their six combatants all nod at the order, about to gather back in their vehicle until Bakugou huffs with a final statement before they make their getaway.

“Know that the next time we see those Shie Hassaikai bastards, we will take them down,” He narrows his eyes at the ocean, the moon still hanging above the sky and basking the waters in moonlight,

“without hesitation.”

Ending Notes | Whew.. thanks for reading! For the next part I was considering writing it in 2nd POV since the reader will actually be physically present during the events of the story now, but I’m not sure yet. Please let me know your thoughts and follow if you’re interested in this series <3

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goldentournesol · 3 years

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The Receptionist and the Profiler (Epilogue)

Chapter Eight: Epilogue

(Spencer Reid x f!Reader)

Series Masterlist

General Masterlist

A/N: Welcome to the final chapter of the series. this is just a summary of what Spencer and Reader’s life is like in the future. thank you so much for joining me on this journey. I’ve enjoyed it so much more than I thought I would. So without further ado, enjoy.

Working for the FBI made for a pretty wild life. Even though Y/N wasn’t an agent, her life had been caught up with work just like all the other agents’. It also didn’t help that her boyfriend was endangered practically every minute of every day. It was hard, but Spencer and Y/N made it work. Among the darkness, they created light for each other. Spencer was no longer dreading coming home to a quiet life of reading and rereading his favorite books. He had a partner, he had a lover, someone to depend on. She was there for him as he grieved the loss of his friend and coworker deeply and she was there when he struggled with his excruciating migraines. They walked through life together, facing the challenges head on.

Emily’s death had taken a toll on the both of them, but they were nothing short of relieved when they found out that she was alive and well. Many changes took place after that.

JJ had worked long and hard to turn into a profiler, the liaison had years upon years of experience before switching jobs which meant Hotch had to find a new communications liaison, but he didn’t have to look far at all. He had offered Y/N the job without a second thought. A lot of her job as receptionist covered a liaison’s job. She would often get numerous calls a day from nosy reporters and she’d have to shut them down. However, with the added responsibilities, she’d had to take classes and had undergone copious amounts of training with JJ and Hotch, but she found that she flourished in this new job, despite the hardships that came with it.

This meant that she had her own office now. Whenever Spencer wasn’t at his desk, he was in her office, and whenever she wasn’t in her office, she was at his desk. She often found that she missed her old job as receptionist, but nothing could replace the newfound feeling of making a difference in the world. She used to admire JJ’s ability to stand before nosy reporters and judgmental cops, and here she was, blowing herself (and the team) away with these hidden abilities.

Before, she was aware of the general gist of the job, she knew it wasn’t easy, but the team often kept the gory details to themselves around her. Now, she had to pick and choose the gore which constantly left her with the question of whether she’d made the right choice or not. The intensity of the job had slightly damaged her spirits, but thankfully she had an amazing support system. She couldn’t have done it without Spencer’s unending support, or Hotch’s for that matter. Before allowing Y/N to accept the job, Hotch had made sure to warn her about the horrors first. She assured him she was ready, even though sometimes she felt like she wasn’t.

On the somewhat bright side, this also meant that she was around during most, if not all cases. This had Spencer jumping for joy, but it also terrified him to his bones. All his emotions were always on overdrive when it came to her. He was glad that he didn’t have to spend so much time away from her, but it simultaneously meant that he was constantly worried for her safety. He never wanted her to go into the field, ever. No matter the amount of combat training she did with Morgan. She found that she preferred interviewing victims’ families and controlling the press to facing serial killers head on anyway.

Sometimes it was easier for her to control the press from Quantico, so it wasn’t uncommon for her to stay back during cases. One particular case had dragged on for much longer than any of them had expected. The whole team was gone in Wisconsin and Hotch had asked her to stay back and hold down the fort at Quantico. The team ended up staying there for two weeks. It was the longest she’d ever been away from Spencer. Nightly calls weren’t enough for them and Spencer truly hadn’t experienced such an emptiness without her before.

As he scooped her into his awaiting arms right outside the elevator when they finally made it back to the office, he breathlessly declared to her, “Marry me.”

She pulled back from the tight embrace to examine his features, “What?” She said, voice thick with confusion.

“I don’t want to be away from you for that long ever again. I don’t want to wait anymore. Marry. Me.” He enunciated firmly. She broke out into a grin.

“Okay, I will.” She laughed and he squeezed her once more, savoring her warmth.

“This isn’t the official proposal by the way, you deserve something far nicer than all this, but I just want you to know that I’m ready if you are.” Spencer clarified and she threw her head back with laughter. Spencer’s heart soared at the sound.

Spencer took that statement and ran with it. He teased her every chance he got. At one dinner date they had planned, he had the nerve to begin his sentence with her full name, her heart dropping to her gut.

“Y/N Y/L/N, would you do me the honor of...sharing this fine wine with me?” Spencer said smugly, resulting in a shocked, but somehow relieved scoff coming from her.

A different time, he decided to give her a false alarm during one of their daily lunch walks in the park nearest to Quantico. He knelt down to one of his knees in the middle of their promenade.

“Y/N Y/L/N, will you...wait for me while I tie my shoe?” Spencer asked with a face-splitting grin. This time, she didn’t hesitate to shove his shoulder slightly, causing him to lose balance and almost faceplant into the pavement.

At this point, she truly had no idea when he was going to pop the big question. Knowing him, it could literally be at any point in time. She had to admit, though, he kept her on her toes. A month later, she was sure he’d pop the question during JJ’s wedding reception because of the way he was staring at her all night. He’d looked dreamy in his tux to say the least. Y/N was almost too shy to dance with him because of how magnificent he looked. What she didn’t know was that he was thinking the same exact thing about her. She looked exquisite in the evening gown she adorned and Spencer was absolutely enraptured by her.

Being so surrounded by love and admiration, Spencer finally asked her to marry him the second they made it through her front door. They stood in the small hallway between the kitchen and the living room. She had just turned around from taking her heels off and was met with Spencer down on one knee, holding the most beautiful ring out to her in a navy blue velvet box.

“I had this elaborate speech planned, Y/N, I really did. I was going to talk about the stars, about the first conversation we had when I told you about the origins of yogurt, about how stupid we were for not realizing our love for each other earlier, but I realized that none of that matters right now. All I know is that this feels right, you make everything feel right. Will you marry me?” Spencer asked, his face incapable of hiding even a sliver of the adoration he felt for her.

“Yes, I’ll marry you in every lifetime and every universe.” She said, tears falling freely from her eyes. He sprang to his feet and wrapped her up in a long awaited embrace. He felt her body shake with wet laughter against his. He placed the ring on her finger and quickly kissed her passionately. Their giddy giggles flew through and around them.

Spencer knew she didn’t want a long engagement. Her previous engagement was hard enough of the both of them. Their jobs were just so demanding, it was hard to set a date and keep from pushing it back. Their wedding planner was beyond frustrated with them, but what can they do? They’re literally out there saving lives. And before they knew it, two years had passed them by and they were due to be married in two months.

But, alas, Spencer Reid seemed to have a knack for getting shot by unsubs right before weddings. While they were investigating a difficult case in Texas, Spencer was shot in the neck. Y/N was at the police station when she’d heard. She wasn’t sure who took her to the hospital to see him, everything was a blur since she got the call. She was plagued by the fear of losing him.

She’d overheard Alex Blake and JJ discuss how he’d always wanted children when she arrived at the hospital. In the back of her mind, she screamed that she’d give him all the kids he wanted, if the universe just let them breathe.

All too quickly, she was a sobbing mess in JJ’s arms. He’d gotten hurt before, he’d been in danger before, but she’d never been as close to it as she was then, it terrified her. Garcia had arrived and guided her to Spencer’s room. In another flash of events, there was a loud bang and Y/N had barely registered that a gun was shot inside the room.

The ringing of her ears subsided just enough to hear Spencer tell Garcia, “You saved my life, do you hear me?”

That was the second time his life was endangered in the span of two hours. Y/N looked her fiancé square in the face.

“I don’t want to wait anymore. As soon as you’re up and well, we’re getting married.”

Exactly one week later, they’d rushed through whatever they could rush through. Thankfully her dress was ready and altered, the cake was made to order, but sadly, they’d given up their gorgeous, gorgeous venue. Rossi was more than happy to offer up his backyard and the couple found it more than fitting to commemorate their love in the very location where Spencer had first confessed his feelings to her and where she’d returned them later.

Life truly came full circle as Spencer stood in the same exact spot where he’d confessed his undying love for her the very first time. Spencer did everything he could to keep from sobbing like a child as he saw the owner of his heart stand before him, just like she did that day, but this time adorning her white dress.

Being the romantic sap that he was, he recounted almost every milestone in perfect detail during his vows. Through the unrelenting tears, of course. Y/N’s words came out wobbly and wet, but she managed to get her vows out. There really was not a single dry eye in the small, intimate crowd. The entire team had watched them fall in love oh-so-gracelessly over the years.

Their ceremony was beautiful. It was different than JJ’s had been, it was more special to the two of them. Spencer was in nothing short of awe as he watched his wife sway with Henry wrapped up in her embrace on the dance floor. Henry’s little arms and legs were wound tightly around her, the bottoms of his shoes surely smearing dirt all over the back of her dress, but she didn’t care. Not when Spencer was looking at her like that. His throat clogged itself up as she caught his eye and smiled sweetly. The same thing was on both their minds, it was like an unspoken agreement had been made through some kind of special, invisible bond between them.

He couldn’t wait to have a family with that woman.

And they’d wasted absolutely no time. Three months after the wedding, Y/N announced that she was carrying a baby Reid. Tears and cheers erupted for them all. They had found the perfect little house with the help of Morgan. It was perfect for their growing family.

Pregnancy wasn’t easy on Y/N at all. Flying all around the country and helping catch serial killers was not an activity that pregnant Y/N wanted to engage in. The team had been more than forgiving as they dealt with her mood swings and crazy cravings. It also turns out that soon-to-be mama Y/N was especially helpful in chewing out unsubs in the interrogation room, but as useful as she proved to be, she couldn’t wait to pop the little peanut out.

Spencer and the team were rushing off the jet to the hospital as they’d heard Y/N had gone into labor. Spencer had only missed the very beginning and was by her side the entire time after that.

They welcomed baby Emelia Reid into this world on a chilly September night. Spencer was over the moon, he was borderline obsessed with looking at the baby and keeping a hand on her at all times whenever she was in the room with them.

He waited for his mother to fly out a few days later just to meet baby Emelia. He wept as he watched his mother kiss the top of his baby girl’s head. No other feeling could ever compete with the one he experienced at that moment in time.

Emelia had grown into such a radiant little girl. She was a miniature hurricane of chocolatey brown curls and rosy red cheeks. She’d already blown her parents away as her intelligence only seemed to increase with time. The similarities she had to her father were astonishing. She was a daddy’s girl through and through, but Y/N didn’t seem to mind sharing him. Not when the sight of them together instantly melted her heart every single time.

Diana tried to be as active in the baby’s life as she could possibly be, however her condition began to worsen over time. Eventually, Diana had had to move in with Y/N, Spencer, and Emelia. Thankfully, their house was large enough, but taking care of a toddler and Diana while being 6 months pregnant was inarguably too much to handle for Y/N. She’d found out that she was pregnant again, and they were expecting another baby girl. Y/N had also taken time off from work to focus on the dilemmas at home.

The at-home nurse was doing the best she could since Spencer was always either at work or off finding Diana some kind of new treatment. He’d told Y/N that he’d been going to Mexico to get her some special medication and so she didn’t mind as long as she’d been kept in the loop of where and how he was. Spencer Reid never kept anything from his wife. They were always transparent with each other. Y/N was glad that he’d told her about his trips down to Mexico, or else she’d be out of her mind looking for him.

But suddenly, during one trip, he’d stopped answering her calls. Complete silence on his end. It had driven her absolutely mad. It was only until JJ visited her the next morning informing her that Spencer had been arrested in Mexico for the illegal possession of drugs and possibly murder. If JJ hadn’t been around to catch Y/N before passing out, she or the baby would have been in extreme danger.

But Spencer Reid never kept anything from his wife. She’d been adamant that she would have known if he was struggling with drugs again. The last time she’d seen Spencer was during the trial. He’d looked so terrified as they pronounced him guilty and shoved him away from her. From his family. He’d spared Y/N one last broken glance, his gaze drifting down to her swollen belly. Their second child was on the way and he won’t be there to meet them. He mouthed a heartfelt apology before they took him away. Y/N wept and wept until everyone but the team left the courtroom.

“How am I gonna do this, Pen? How am I gonna do this without him?” She spoke between breathy sobs. The baby, Emelia, Diana. She couldn’t do it on her own. It would break her.

“You won’t be alone, Y/N. We’re all going to help you.” Penelope reassured her, but the only thing that was capable of reassuring her was currently in handcuffs behind closed doors.

She’d had to keep Spencer’s whereabouts from Diana and Emelia. She’d told him that he was consulting a case somewhere in California, where he also had access to the beach. Up until that lie wasn’t viable enough. Emelia’s questions about her daddy absolutely tore through what remained of her heart.

Diana’s caretaker had apparently quit and a new one came by. Y/N thought something was off, but she pushed that thought aside as she worried over her husband and the baby that they were due to meet any day now. Two months had passed and Spencer was still incarcerated, he hadn’t allowed Y/N or Emelia anywhere near the prison, but she’d broken down at the possibility of him being locked away for 25 years.

She’d visited him once, right after the birth of their second baby. They’d had another beautiful baby girl, whose name had been decided long ago by the two parents. Baby Adaline. The delivery was immensely difficult without him, but she pushed through. Y/N had almost begged Emily to pull any, any strings she could to get them to meet since Spencer said he’d only agree to see them if he could ensure their privacy and safety. They’d managed to get them in with Spencer’s lawyer, Fiona. Y/N cooed to Adaline as she cradled her in her arms, wrapped in her little blanket. The cooing served as a distraction as she waited anxiously for Spencer to meet them in the small little room.

Suddenly the doors emitted a loud buzzing noise, prompting a loud cry from Adaline. A sound that was strange to echo off the walls of this place. Y/N shushed her gently until she caught sight of her husband walking through the door. Tears gathered in her eyes as she took in his disheveled state. His eyes found hers and quickly flitted to the squirming bundle of joy in her arms. Spencer’s lip wobbled as he entered the room. Y/N shifted Adaline to rest upon her shoulder as she wrapped one arm tightly around Spencer. No touching was allowed, but the guards pretended to look the other way, courtesy of whatever strings Emily had pulled.

The three of them bawled against each other in an unceremonious reunion. Spencer at last pulled away from his wife and stared at the baby in the bundle. He hesitated to carry her. His hands were clean, but they still felt so dirty. How could his hands hold this beautiful gift of life while they’d been committing such heinous acts within these very walls? But one utterance from his wife made that all vanish.

“It’s okay, Spence.” She smiled slightly, angling Adaline towards him.

He gazed at Y/N closely, as if checking to see if she was sure. Y/N carefully handed her over to him and he instantly turned into less of a shell of himself and had begun to resemble the man that Y/N could recognize. He cooed to her softly, kissing her face repeatedly. Adaline instantly quieted down at her father’s touch.

The small interaction had fueled the pair for weeks. Spencer found a source of hope and was determined to see through to the other side. He would not rot away in his cell forever. The team continued to try and crack the case from the outside. Y/N was instructed to be more careful than ever. She often brought Emelie and Adaline to work with her. She had not been flying out with the team, preferring to stay close to her girls until Spencer was back.

On one of the days Y/N brought her girls to work, she’d found out that Diana had been missing. Her caretaker was accompanying her to visit Spencer in prison and then neither of them had been seen afterwards. They quickly identified the caretaker as Lindsey Vaughn. If Y/N had been on the case with them ten years ago, she would have identified her, but she was just another face to her. Y/N was livid, Vaughn had been around her children, she’d been inside her home. If Spencer didn’t get to catch the bitch, they better believe Y/N will.

Spencer was released quickly after the BAU proved his innocence. He was on his way to the office now. Y/N had been peering into Adaline’s carriage when she’d heard the high pitched voice of Emelia.

“Daddy!” Emelia exclaimed, racing across the bullpen to jump into her father’s arms.

“Hi baby. Daddy missed you so much.” Spencer said, hiding his tears in his daughter's hair. He held her tightly to his chest as he crossed the bullpen and made it to Y/N’s office. He put Emelia down gently and scooped his wife into his arms.

“You’re back.” She said softly through tears.

He hooked his chin over her shoulder and sniffled strongly. He might not be the same man he was before, but he still loved her unconditionally. He still loved all three of them unconditionally.

“I’m here.” He repeated the phrase out loud like a mantra.

And he was here, but he also wasn’t. His wife could tell that the man who stood before her had endured hell, but when he cradled their baby girl so tightly to his chest, it was hard to imagine him as anything other than a loving, gentle father, and a compassionate partner. She knew she’d hold onto that thought forever. Once they retrieved Diana, they knew they could face anything.

As long as they were together.

And they knew they would be, for as long as the universe would allow in this life, and then the one after that.

~THE END~

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#spencer reid #dr spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #Spencer Reid fic #spencer reid series #spencer reid angst #spencer reid masterlist #the receptionist and the profiler #Criminal Minds #criminal minds fanfic #Criminal Minds Fanfiction #criminal minds fic #cm #spencer reid fluff

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jimlingss · 3 years

Note

O SHOOT REQUESTS !!! ill take my chances and ask for a zombie apocalypse or pirate au ft. hoseok 👀 i couldnt choose between the two aus and im hoseok biased but i can honestly see any member so do as who u see fit. i will not let my pairing/au choice limit the authors talent 😤 and i dont doubt anything from you will satisfy. and pshhh,, where are my manners. please and thank u! love u 💛

↳ Crocodile Tears

1.8k || 98% Fluff, 2% Angst || Jung Hoseok || Pirate!AU

“Look what I nabbed, Cap’n.”

Gunner Taehyung’s grinning with all teeth, a golden chain wrapped around his fingers that’s so shiny it’s blinding with the sunlight. Hoseok’s intrigued and flips the locket in his hand. It’s heavy with a wild rose engraved on the front and once he pops it open, there’s a faded painted portrait of a young woman inside.

“It’s a booty, eh? Caught if off milady right over ‘ere.”

Hoseok hums and narrows his eyes on the wrench tied in rope sitting amongst the captives. Your face is dirtied, hair drawn in a bun at your crown but with many strands fallen around your face. Your gown rat’s coloured, dull gray. You are entirely unremarkable. Like any other peasant.

But it’s not often captives have something of value on them.

“Bring her to my cabin.”

“Aye, aye.”

The ship sets sail again. Taehyung keeps the captives quiet with the threat of throwing them overboard while the cabin boy Jungkook swabs the poop deck. Helmsman Seokjin mans the helm with navigator Namjoon by his side. The ship’s heading to dock at Port Galigeo to get a pretty penny for all the loot and treasures they’ve gotten after four months’ voyage.

Once steep waters are reached and everything’s been taken care of, Hoseok resumes to his cabin. There, he finds you, sitting in the corner on the floorboards with tears in your eyes. You gasp as he enters and shuts the door.

“Please! Spare me!” you beg sorrowfully. “Let me go!”

“Why should I?” Hoseok tosses his hat onto his table and his coat to his rickety chair. You look so frightful, even when he’s still in his drawers and shirt, held together by the red sash.

He fiddles with the many golden rings across his fingers, a habit since he began his adventures, and he comes over to you. Hoseok’s boots are heavy against the floorboards, and he crouches down to meet your trembling eyes.

“I-I am just a peasant,” you sob. “I have nothing to give to you! My father is merely a farmer.”

“Oh? Then what be this here?” Hoseok dangles the priceless locket in front of you as the corner of his lip curls. It catches the light from the tiny window of the cabin and the gold gleams against your eyes, practically sparkling like a jewel.

Your eyes flicker from it to him, hiccuping and frame quivering like a damn leaf. “It’s my grandmother’s. She left it for me before she passed.”

Hoseok hums a low note. “An’ if this be your grandmother’s, how she pay for such a treasure? Unless she been a thief.”

Your downcast head shakes. “I don’t know, I don’t know.”

He pops the locket open before taking a good look at it. “This here be a portrait of you, isn’t it? You look different. Lavish. Like a noble’s daughter.”

“T-That isn’t me.”

“Then who?”

“I don’t know.”

There’s something rather pretty in the way tears drip down your cheeks, so soft and gentle like jewels of their own right. But Hoseok has seen many women, children and men cry. It’s nothing astonishing.

Hoseok smirks, a rush of air leaving his nose. “I’ve been cap’n of this ship for nearly a decade, dearest. I’ve held treasures you could only dream of, been in battles that nearly lost my leg, sailed ‘cross the seven seas with me mates. I know when a wrench lies.”

His eyes are narrowed in on yours. And Hoseok comes closer, hand lifting to grab a hold of your chin. But before he can, before he can blink or breathe — suddenly, you brandish a piece of glass against his exposed neck.

The ropes around you clatter to the ground. Hoseok feels the sharp edge of the glass digging into his skin, a moment away from nicking him and drawing blood. But more notably, your eyes are aflame. Your expression is dark and you’re scowling at him.

Gone is the fragile little girl weeping for mercy.

“Don’t come closer,” you warn in a low voice without a single tremble.

He leans back, but his gaze stays on yours. “You reckon you could kill me?”

“I wouldn’t hesitate.”

Hoseok’s mouth curls, grin stretching into his cheek. His interest is piqued. He knew there was more to you beneath the surface, and he’s happy you haven’t disappointed.

His hand latches onto your wrist to force your hand away. It's a battle of strength. One that he ultimately wins as the piece of glass goes clattering on the ground out of your reach. He sees it’s part of a broken bottle. But Hoseok’s much too put off guard and when your leg kicks out at him, he’s smacked square in the chin.

He grips it as he lands on his ass, sharply exhaling. But then he bursts into chuckles.

“You got some mean spirit in you, sweetheart.”

Unfortunately for you, Hoseok has far too much experience in combat and capture. Even if you try to kick, strike and even bite him, it’s not too difficult to get you tied into ropes again. Except this time, he makes sure to use his special knots and get you so wound up, no sharp edge could free you.

“Let me go, bastard!”

“Settle down. You’re only gettin’ yourself riled.” Hoseok crouches in front of you again and comes to wipe away the stray tear on your cheek with the pad of his thumb. You angrily scowl at him, chest rising and falling. Crying won’t get you far now, not when he knows they’re just crocodile tears. “Don’t get yourself worried about someone hurtin’ you. Everyone on this ship swears by our code, me included.”

You scoff. “As if I’d trust a pirate.”

Hoseok smirks. “If I wanted to hurt you, I would’ve done so already. It isn’t pleasin’ for me to force a girl like yourself either. Not when I have plenty o’ gold to play with a wrench at the dock. Now I suggest you behave or my Quartermaster’ll throw you overboard.”

“Then do it!” you shout at him with your entire body, only to flop over to the floorboards.

He grips the knob of the door and looks over his shoulder. “No. You’re too much of a treasure, sweetheart.”

The sun is falling over the horizon when Namjoon approaches. “Everything go well with the girl?”

Hoseok hums and turns with a glint in his eye. “Tell all hands to keep her separate.”

Port Galigeo is reached within two days time. The waters are calm without storms and the stars are clear at night. The sailing is smooth and so the docks are reached faster than ever before.

The men aboard are eager to sell the loot, to spend a few days ashore, spend nights at the brothel and replenish the rum. As follows, their steps are quick and they move the crates of jewels and tools to the harbour. Seokjin also takes care of the captives, leading them in a straight line off the gangplank to be sold.

“Cap’n! What ‘bout the beauty ‘ere.” Taehyung points to you.

Hoseok meets your eyes and you’re seething, glaring back at him. The corner of his mouth curls in amusement.

“Leave her. Tell the lad to watch over her till we return.” He points to Jungkook and Taehyung nods with an ‘aye, aye’.

Most of his crewmen take care of business, getting as much gold for the loot as possible. But Hoseok fiddles with your pendant in hand and heads to a jeweler. Said jeweler is an old man who quivers upon seeing him, Namjoon and Seokjin in his shop. He hides behind his table and cries, “Please! Spare me! Take what you must!”

Hoseok sighs. He doesn’t know why everyone thinks so badly of him. Maybe because he’s a pirate and he and his crew have pillaged countless. That’s fair, he supposes.

“Stop yer quivering,” Seokjin spews out, leaning against his table. “We need you to look at somethin’. Hurry before I steal your silver!”

Hoseok lifts your golden locket, letting it dangle from his hand.

The old man eventually slinks out when he realizes they won’t do anything, and he takes out his magnifying glass. He motions for him to bring it forward and Hoseok does. The old man hums, studying the locket before flipping it over in his hand. His thumb brushes against the wild rose engraving.

“Where did you get this from?” he asks.

“Don’t matter,” Namjoon says curtly.

Hoseok studies the man’s face and leans closer. “What is it?”

“It is a very valuable locket. I happen to recognize this symbol as well. It is the emblem of the Crochetta Kingdom.” He pops the locket open to the portrait of the young woman and looks up at Hoseok, clearing his throat. “I believe this locket belongs to the youngest princess of that kingdom. The runaway.”

Hoseok’s brow cocks.

The three of them leave in a hurry.

Seokjin’s eyes are glazed as his mouth starts to spew how Lady Luck is truly on their side, how they’ll be able to get their hands on a high ransom or sell you for countless riches. Namjoon is perplexed at how a princess like you managed to get here when Crochetta was countries away.

But Hoseok remains quiet. He doesn’t plan to trade you. He doesn’t ask questions.

He is entirely and wholly intrigued. Like never before.

“Blimey, the ship!” There’s a shout at the docks and Hoseok is torn from his thoughts. Taehyung has his hands in the air, cursing aloud. And Hoseok’s eyes trail from him to his ship that’s off the dock and disappearing over the horizon. “It’s sailing away!”

Seokjin is aghast. “How?!”

“Who’s still on?!” Hoseok shouts, looking around the dock to all his shocked men and their mouths drawn open big enough to catch flies.

“That girl,” Namjoon says, looking at the captain.

Hoseok tied you tightly, he made sure of it. Unless you freed yourself again. But it’s not possible that you lifted the anchor.

No. You must’ve cut the rope.

“Where’s Jungkook?”

At the same time, there’s a high-pitched shriek in the distance. All of the men are held to their spots on the docks as they watch a tiny figure in the horizon get pushed off the ship’s deck and then plopped into the waters.

There’s a loud splash.

You stole the ship.

Hoseok is quiet when his men turn to him. They don’t dare utter a single word, far too afraid their captain is boiling with anger. But what frightens them far more is when Hoseok suddenly bursts out into chortling laughter.

He laughs and grins as he watches his ship sail into the distance.

You were truly a treasure hard to find. He knew it when he saw you.

And now, he’ll just have to catch you again.

#bts fanfic #bts scenario #hoseok fanfic #hoseok fluff #hoseok reader insert #hoseok scenario #bts reader insert #bts drabble #bangtans-peaceful-piegon #Jimlings #let's goooo Hoseok as a hot sexy pirateee!!!

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wolf-pearl · 3 years

Text

@aimeelouart I have finally finished writing the summary of that SSC au I mentioned on ao3.

This AU is based on the First's theories about Cloud. Basically, what if they were right with their assumptions?

Zack is an early SOLDIER prototype and legendary 1st Class who got disappeared pre the Trio's time. His existence was completely erased. Zack was enhanced using only mako, no jenova cells. When the jenova cell infused mako treatment was found to result in greater enhancement than mako treatment alone, Zack was viewed as obsolete.

Made obsolete by new j-cell SOLDIERS, combined with Hojo wanting to make way for Sephiroth to rise through the ranks, and fear that Zack's sway over the SOLDIERs would lead to mass insubordination in the event that Zack objected to ShinRa's immoral agendas became reasons for Zack to be disappeared and handed over to the science department. Zack was handed over to the science department by his own men, the betrayal resulting in his scorn for the SOLDIER program.

Cloud was created to be a SOLDIER killer. President ShinRa, after seeing that there really wasn't any way to stop the SOLDIERs if they decided to turn against the company, orders Hojo to create some form of failsafe in the event that any SOLDIER turned against ShinRa. Cloud has been conditioned from day one to see SOLDIERs as highly dangerous combatants that will kill him if he can't neutralize them fast enough, and eliminating them is the job expected of him by Hojo and ShinRa.

Zack was brought in at first to be Cloud's first real SOLDIER to kill. Problem was, Cloud was TINY at the time, and thus can't win that fight. Zack refuses to harm Cloud, because, you know, he's a literal child. So what was intended to be a fight to the death devolves into Zack giving Cloud pointers on his foot work and sword technique. Hojo sees the value in keeping Zack around to teach Cloud, as who's better to teach the boy how to fight SOLIDERs than an actual SOLDIER? On top of that, it has the added bonus of further instilling a distrust of SOLDIERS into Cloud. And so Hojo decides to keep Zack around for Cloud to practice fighting and to teach Cloud. (Don't be fooled, Hojo still absolutely plans on having Cloud kill Zack. He simply has moved that back as a potential final test before announcing Cloud as ready for deployment.)

Cloud's actual name given to him by Hojo is Cumulonimbus. Upon hearing that, Zack declared that that was a terrible name for a kid, and started calling the boy Cloud instead. Cloud reacted poorly to the firsts calling him Cloud because that is Zack's name for him. Zack is the only person Cloud truly trusts, so the name Zack gave him is only for people he trusts.

Cloud leveled his materia himself. They wanted him to have a full arsenal to take down rogue SOLDIERS. So, he's been using them since the moment he could. The fusion blade also belongs to Cloud. They put him through tests to see what all of his limit breaks are, and then designed the fusion sword to complement his final limit break, omnislash.

Cloud was kept in the lab in Nibelheim. This meant that he was always in relative close proximity to Jenova. As such, Cloud has been subjected to Jenova's mind fuckery for his entire life. When Jenova first started reaching out to Cloud's mind it was simply to figure out what he was. Then she made Cloud's life hell. Cloud had to learn quickly how to block her out. This is why Cloud knows all the tricks to blocking out the crazy alien. This also means that Cloud has been getting visions of the future for most of his life.

Cloud wasn't meant to ever be in view of the public, or interact with civilians at all. The only people he was planned to interact with were his handlers and the SOLDIERS he was sent to eliminate. As such, there was no need to condition him to behave, hold his tongue, or be a poster boy like Sephiroth. The only behavior that mattered was following direct orders and returning to his handlers once his objective is complete.

Cloud recognizes the Buster sword because it used to be Zack's sword. It wasn't taken away from Zack when he was first brought in as they had intended to throw him into combat. After that he was allowed to keep it in order to further Cloud's lessons with him. Cloud knows how to tend to the Buster sword so expertly because he did so relatively often back in the labs. The scientists learned to use promises of extra time with Zack as an incentive for Cloud, and much of those bonus times were spent talking with Zack as they cared for the sword. Eventually the buster sword gets taken away from Zack as punishment for "bad behavior" - probably an escape attempt or attempting to interfere with one of the inhumane tests Cloud is put through. Zack assumes that it was melted down after being taken away. In reality, the Buster sword is given to Angeal. One of the last SOLDERS who served under, remembers, and still holds loyalty to Zack was the one who delivered the Blade to Angeal. The SOLDIER tells Angeal that the Buster Sword belonged to an honorable man who had no one to pass it onto, and that Angeal's dedication to dreams and honor reminded the SOLDIER of that man. Angeal was never told the name of the blade's original wielder.

Ribbon belonged to Zack. He had hid it from the scientists. Zack first gave it to Cloud after a nasty round of experiments involving status conditions. He had somehow braided it into Cloud’s hair. He gave it to Cloud permanently after the boy had clung to it like a security blanket. Knowing that the Ribbon was probably the first object that Cloud ever used as a security blanket, Zack vows that once they escape he will get Cloud an actual plushie. With ribbons of its own.

During a time when Hojo is back in midgar, Zack breaks out of his cell, snags Cloud, and makes a break for it. They end up being forced to barricade themselves into a chamber that has a bunch of coffins. They find Vincent who takes one look at Cloud and decides that his sins can wait, there is a child right here who needs his help and he can help. Vincent and Zack tear through the scientists that are on site and scavenge what travel essentials they can from the lab along with the equipment that was made for Cloud, before making their escape with Cloud.

Somehow Cloud gets separated from Zack and Vincent, and decides to set out to destroy Jenova and burn the mansion to the ground. At this point Hojo is aware that something has gone wrong, and so Genesis is sent to Nibelheim, ostensibly to check an energy disturbance in the area. In reality he's been sent to retrieve Cloud, but he isn't told that.

The outfit the Firsts find Cloud in is part of Zack’s old uniform. Cloud was pretty much only given hospital gowns and scrubs to wear by the scientists. When Zack and Cloud escaped Cloud’s clothes - which were nothing more than a hospital gown and scrub pants - got completely ruined. Zack wrapped Cloud up in his own outfit because while Zack was able to find extra clothes that fit himself in the lab, there wasn’t any kid clothes in the lab. Cloud ends up in Zack’s sleeveless turtleneck and pants, but Zack keeps the pieces that wouldn’t do Cloud any good for himself. This does mean that the outfit Cloud is wearing at the start is a little different than in ssc. Zack is smart enough to know that putting his massive steel toed boots on a small child is not going to do Cloud any good. So when Genesis finds Cloud the boy is not in a complete comically oversized ensemble with that skirt thing, the single shirtless sleeve, belts and all. Instead Gen finds a small bare foot child wearing a quarter turtleneck that's falling off his shoulders, a pair of already baggy pants that look like ufo pants on the kid, and a sword harness with an absolutely obnoxiously big sword. (Gen has a freak out when he sees Cloud standing in knee high snow without any footwear, because seriously how long has this kid been wandering around in below freezing temperatures barefoot, he could lose his toes.)

How did Cloud even get separated from Zack and Vincent, and how did he make his way back to Nibelheim from wherever they had fled to? Simple: don't ask me questions I don't have an explanation for yet.

Zack and Vincent are desperately trying to find Cloud. The First Class trio don't realize that they are being hunted down by two very protective, skilled, and enhanced individuals who are hell bent on getting Cloud back.

Because this AU removes (most of) the time travel aspects, Cloud’s reasons for being afraid of Sephiroth are different. One cause of Cloud’s fear of Sephiroth is that Cloud has been having nightmares and visions of the future for basically as long as he can remember. On top of this, Cloud also has been conditioned to think that the greatest threat he might ever have to fight is Sephiroth, as he’s the top SOLDIER. Hojo drove this point home by forcing Cloud to fight simulations of Sephiroth, and would punish Cloud if he failed to beat it. Hojo also constantly forced Cloud through intense experiments and enhancements to “bring his capabilities up to be equivalent to Sephiroth”, inadvertently causing Cloud to associate any mention of Sephiroth and/or Sephiroth’s continued improvement with being subjected to another barrage of experiments. However, Cloud probably won't be as afraid of Sephiroth in this AU as he is in SSC. Yes Cloud would still be afraid of Sephiroth, and yes Cloud would still be more afraid of Seph than he is of Genesis or Angeal. However without the time travel aspect from the original fic, Cloud just won’t have enough reason to be as afraid of Sephiroth as he is in ssc. In this AU Cloud’s more afraid of what Sephiroth represents (the visions of the future, the ultimate threat Cloud may have to face, and further experimentation) than he is of Sephiroth as a person.

Sephiroth could earn Cloud's trust through showing Cloud that Hojo had hurt him too. Sephiroth understands what it means to be hurt by Hojo.

You still want time travel elements? Well you’re in luck because I have three options for that.

1) Cloud time traveled version 1: In the first time line, he escaped with Zack, but Zack ultimately got killed. Cloud takes Zack’s outfit to remember him by, and stays out of the reach of ShinRa, builds a life for himself as a mercenary. At some point during the years during mercenary work Cloud stumbles upon the Buster sword on a cliff in the midgar wastes. As Angeal had no protegee, he had neither a student to order to cut him down or anyone to pass the Buster sword onto. Angeal died while leaning against the flat of the blade that he had struck into the earth in an attempt to keep himself propped up. Cloud recognizes the Buster sword and takes it with him. He doesn’t learn how the Buster got on the cliff after it was taken from Zack. Cloud spends his years as a mercenary drifting to wherever his jobs take him, and for the most part ignoring the events that shake ShinRa such as the Nibelheim incident and the mass defections. He stays far away from anything to do with ShinRa up until he takes a job from AVALANCHE. From there Cloud follows an altered version of cannon events. When Cloud time traveled, he got sent back to when he was a kid in the labs with Zack, the only things he brought back from the future are his rare summon materia as well as his Master Materia, those really being the main equipment he got after the labs. This would mean Cloud being small doesn’t necessarily have to be because of Jenova.

2) Cloud time traveled version 2: Zack escapes with Cloud pre crisis core, but ultimately gets apprehended by Sephiroth, who was sent to recapture “escaped experiments”. Sephiroth kills Zack, and Cloud is returned to Hojo (this gives an alternate reason behind Cloud calling Sephiroth “murderer” in chapter 3). Cloud continues to be experimented on and is sent on his first mission during the events of crisis core to go after the SOLDIERs who defected with Genesis. Cloud is eventually sent after and successfully takes down Genesis and Angeal. Cloud doesn’t recognize them after time traveling at first due to how advanced their degradation was when he fought them on top of his memories of that time in his life being unclear. Cloud does recognize that the sword Angeal has is the Buster sword and takes it with him. All Sephiroth learns about the deaths of his friends is that they were taken down by “a classified project designed for this exact type of scenario”. When the Nibelheim incident occurs, Sephiroth was sent with a random SOLDIER first. Cloud was sent to investigate to see if the accompanying first went rogue after the team sent to Nibelheim fails to report in and ShinRa hears of a disturbance in the area. Cloud arrives to find the village burning and the unnamed First (along with everyone else) killed by Sephiroth. Following orders to eliminate any rogue SOLDEIRs along with recognizing Sephiroth as the person who killed Zack, Cloud kills the silver General. Hojo is furious when he arrives, demanding why Cloud would kill Sephiroth, to which Cloud retorts that he followed his orders as given to him by ShinRa and the Professor himself. His orders were to eliminate any rogue SOLDEIRs, and Sephiroth had gone rogue. Hojo takes offence to this, and as punishment he tries to experiment Cloud into oblivion for 4 years. Hojo leaves Cloud in a mako tank after the creations of the Sephiroth clones, and he reasons once Sephiroth returns there will be no more need for Cloud. Cloud escapes, equipping himself with his gear from his time as ShinRa’s SOLDIER killer but opts to wear Zack’s outfit that was kept in the lab’s storage after his death. Cloud makes his way to midgar where he joins up with AVALANCHE, and from there the story follows along an altered version of the cannon events. As a side note, I’m not entirely sure how this one would work out with the time line and character ages, so this one may require some fudging of the characters ages to make sense? Idk, I really don’t understand the timeline of FF7. I think that using Cloud’s canon age would make him 14 maybe 15 when he takes down Genesis and Angeal. Considering that Hojo sent Sephiroth to Wutai at around the same age, it could work.

3) Zack is the time traveler. In the original timeline, Zack doesn’t manage to escape the labs and ends up dying before Cloud gets to see. Zack ends up following Cloud around as a ghost and is powerless to do anything as Cloud struggles through his time as ShinRa’s SOLDIER killer, and then dealing with the events of meteor fall, geostigma, etc. the Planet ultimately cant recover, so it Sends Zack back in time to prevent the disasters from ever happening. Zack is sent back to early on in his time with Cloud in the Labs. Zack makes a point of reiterating how dangerous Sephiroth is to Cloud, and this time succeeds in escaping the labs with Cloud by enlisting Vincent’s help (Zack learned of Vincent through waiting over Cloud as a ghost). While Zack was sent back in time to save the planet, He acknowledges to himself that his real motivation behind doing this isn’t to be a hero, he just wants to take care of his Cloudy. Zack absolutely freaks out when he gets separated from Cloud. He’s on a warpath to get his adoptive son back. When Zack catches up to the three Firsts Cloud’s probably going to have to talk Zack down from outright eviscerating them for daring to touch Cloud.

#this thing is over 2700 words long oh god #aimeelouart #saving subject c #ssc #long post

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