#slash still is handled today

[carrieway]

this is purely my own view n whatnot n i mean it with the utmost respect n gentleness but i do think the 9/11 theory is a tad odd. i dont wanna assume anything but personally it's a discomforting thought to say gerard would dress as a 9/11 victim

[taegularities]

heaven to you (teaser) | myg & jjk (m)

Summary: A casual hook up morphs into a fierce fever dream when roommates slash best friends Min Yoongi and Jeon Jungkook bring heaven and hell to you – all at once, in one single night.

➳ pairing: Yoongi x reader x Jungkook ➳ rating: 18+ ➳ genre: kind of fwb, threesome, college au; fluff, hella smut ➳ warnings: lmfao buckle up, there'll be quite a few warnings for this one :') yoongi and oc are fwb, teasing, flirting, kissing booth stuff, jk wears glasses and has long hair (manbun beloved), yoongi and jk are both so cocky :'), but so is oc, sexual tension, mid-sex convos, threesome ofc, dom yoongi n jk, explicit sexual content, such as double penetration, degradation, spit stuff, manhandling,.. (will expand on this once the full thing drops – but it's a whole lot 😄), they do some weird ass stuff during sex lol but it's such a fun piece, aftercare, valentino yoongi and ck jk!! THE ENDINGGGGG LMFAO ➳ est. wc: 12-15k 😁 1.5k for the teaser!! ➳ a/n: so :’) this had been in planning since? december? i knew i wanted to do a lil something for the milestone, but that lil something turned into… whatever demonic hell this is LOL. back to the ruin you days, i guess. am super excited for this to finally drop. gonna give y'all the best version of it possible, love you <3

MASTERLIST | WIPS | TAGLIST

No matter how fatigued you feel, you’re determined to see this thing through.

Today’s event might have tired you out, but Yoongi’s tongue was quick to bring you back into the land of the living. You’d never admit it to him, but no college responsibility could force you away from the sins he always offers to you.

And two rooms from here, he’s waiting to send you down that spiral again.

You shudder in excitement.

You lift your body off the toilet seat and wash your hands; one last glance into the mirror as you crack your joints. You’d put a gym session into tomorrow’s schedule, but tonight might just serve as exercise enough.

Deep breath in, you step out with strengthened enthusiasm. You brace yourself for whatever’s to come, but what you don’t expect is the presence awaiting you outside the bathroom.

Your fingers halt over the door handle; a light smile creeps upon your face when you see him leaning against the wall.

Eyes shift from bottom to top slowly.

He’s gorgeous. Sculpted and tall. One of his legs is angled, heel against the wall; so you see how thick and strong his thighs are even through his baggy joggers.

And you don’t think he had his hair in this damn bun before; it presses against the wall. Combined with the glasses on his nose, he emanates some type of… innocence.

But you know Jeon Jungkook. And he’s far from the purity you’re so foolishly perceiving right now.

His head moves when he registers your light steps, meeting your eyes so nonchalantly that you trash all prior thoughts of innocence once and for all. You don’t ask what he’s thinking or what he wants. You assume he was merely waiting for his turn to enter the loo.

Jungkook’s plans for tonight, different from yours, probably consist of taking a good shit, seeking a filling meal and drowning in a good night’s sleep. That’s what you think, at least.

But as you move across the hall and towards him, he doesn’t walk past you, doesn’t target the bathroom.

Instead, he keeps looking at you.

And something in his gaze suggests that he’s not quite done talking to you; something of the awkward conversation in the living room still remains. 

Yet, he doesn’t speak.

So, you do, “What?”

“Hm?” he voices, a head tilt suggesting surprise, but you know he’s fucking with you. “Nothing. Was gonna pee.”

“Right.” You don’t move from your spot yet. Fold your arms under your chest. His pupils flit down for a second and then up to your face again; weirdly proud, you press your tits up some more. “Then go.”

“Alright, boss,” he rolls his eyes at you, pushing past you with a light brush of your shoulders, “I’ll go.”

And he does. Doesn’t mean you trust him. So you remain and wait.

Wait a minute longer. When he comes out, you’re still standing there.

He doesn’t look surprised. Just trudges towards you with half damp hands in the pockets of his sweats, sly smile on a pretty face until you speak and it drops.

“Was that off putting to you? You really don’t want it?”

There’s a rapid upward movement of one of his eyebrows, and he feigns the confusion perfectly as he asks, “Want what?”

“To join us.”

He puffs out a mocking laugh. Looks to the side, enough for you to admire his chiselled features. A jaw as sharp as a razorblade. Mole on his neck. Wanna kiss.

Then, he asks, “You were actually serious? Like, you still are?”

“Do I look unserious to you?”

Your blinking is supposed to be cute, but he doesn’t fall for it. You clench your jaw; you know he doesn’t want to reject you. You see it in his movements.

So you try, “Or are you just not made for it?”

Which seems to trigger just the right amount of ego in him. Because he laughs again, forming a circle with his lips, and lets out a little, “Ohhh,” as though you’re challenging him. Which, in some ways…

Before you know it, his scent wafts towards you. Soapy, pleasant. He’s close enough to trap you — which, to your surprise, he suddenly does.

One arm on each side of your head, he closes in. Your head moves immediately, your gaze set on his colourful tattoos. When you look at him again, the infuriating, lopsided signature smirk makes your eyes roll — a coping mechanism in a situation like this.

You won't reveal that the sudden movement sent a shiver down your spine, or that you held your breath for a moment possibly long enough for him to notice.

So eye rolling it is, disguising the wavering self-control as annoyance when he explains, “This wouldn’t be my first time, babe. Yoongi and I don’t mind sharing.”

His breath is warm, minty. Did he chew gum before?

You gulp.

“But,” he continues, tilting his head; you nearly expect him to kiss you. But he doesn’t. “You’re not exactly the type of girl I usually fuck with.”

Not his type of girl, huh?

Rude.

“Why not?” you ask. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He shrugs his shoulders.

You see your reflection in his glasses — so far, you seem composed. Though less when he says, “You like leaving people and things broken. You get bored fast.”

Ouch. You wish he was lying.

It’s not like you do it on purpose. People catch feelings fast — you don’t. You make your intentions clear; the times things broke weren’t because you intended them to.

But…

You’re surprised he knows about this at all. You know Jungkook isn’t one to do feelings either; Yoongi told you. Perhaps he’s divulged your philosophies, too.

“So do you,” you answer.

“You got bored of Yoongi really fucking fast, too.”

“Not true. I’m still here.”

“You are now. You haven’t been for quite a while, right?”

You silence. What the hell does he mean?

Bewildered, you stare at him; if he wasn’t surrounded by this odd mystery, you’d push him away again. But he wants to rile you up, and you know you can take a lot more than that.

When you don’t answer, he pulls away, tugging back one or two escaped hair strands. Your eyes follow as he secures them behind his left ear, adorned by two earrings.

But when he raises an eyebrow in question, you awaken again, assuring him that, “You don’t have to. Yoongi and I can just do our thing and you… I don’t know. Have a good night, I suppose.”

You nod once and then push your body off the wall, glad you’re not sandwiched between it and Jungkook anymore. But before you can escape into your friend’s bedroom, a strong hand pulls you back.

You gasp, not anticipating the bold grip, flashing a glare to the veins on the back of his hand as you ask, “What? Didn’t mock me enough or—”

“You won’t ask again?” he has the audacity to inquire.

“You can’t be serious,” you scold, eyes wide. You can’t get out of his hold, so you don’t try just yet. “I’m gonna go. He’s already lighting candles or whatever.”

Jungkook chuckles. “As if. He doesn’t do that shit.”

“True,” you admit, “well, but he is waiting for me. Was waiting for you, too.”

“For me, huh?”

His grin is dorky. The following pout even more so. Horny moods make him cocky, but you remember from every other time you saw him at their dorm how freaking annoying he was.

A likeable annoying, you must admit. Capable of sweet smiles and funny jokes and absolute dumbass behaviour.

Like now.

“Awwh. Man, I saw him just this morning,” he says, loosening his grip around your wrist, pushing his glasses up his nose. “I understand if you missed me, but he really didn’t have to.”

You grimace. “You’re an idiot.”

“Yeah. Just so you know, when you call someone an idiot, you—”

“Alright. I’m leaving.”

Which you do. With absolute confidence.

Throwing your hair back and moving your hips. But what you also do is look back once you’ve taken a couple steps, nodding into the general direction of the bedroom. 

Granting him a boost of confidence as you give into his wishes and ask again.

“Are you coming or?”

“Uhm—”

“Isn’t that why you wouldn’t let me go?” If he rejects you now, you’ll walk away. End of story. “Or why you’re looking at me like that.”

He doesn’t answer. Caught red-handed.

He seems to contemplate it. Is eyeing you carefully, amused beyond imagination. What a delightful expression.

One last time, he thinks aloud and says, “You’re acting badass now, but that will backfire. And you will burn yourself.”

“So what? Fire’s fun.”

“I’m just saying.” One more. “Tonight might be a little too much for you with the two of us, you know? I’m not as easy to handle as you think. ”

“I don’t think you are,” you confess. “But I don’t want to handle you. I want the opposite.”

No matter how tired you are, you will see this thing through. With or without him, you will take what Yoongi gives. Accept if Jungkook offers anything. And you think… you think he will.

There’s a glimmer in his eyes. A hint of desire, hunger growing in the predator’s big gaze. If he wants to reject you now, you’ll walk away.

But you don’t think he will.

And once more, courageous, you say, “Handle me, Jeon Jungkook.”

okayyy. this is one glimpse of the whole sin lol. yoongi is gonna have a way bigger role, this is just a jk centric scene!! they're both prominent a lot in every other scene and they're both menaces :')

please look forward to it!! it's gonna be a fun lil piece before we go back to our lil angst/fluff corner. and support by leaving a like, reblog and comment! anddd send me your thoughts, your enthusiasm is extremely encouraging!!

if you want to be on the taglist, here you go!! love you all <3

[mimimarvelingmarvel]

time bound part two

pairing: worst wolverine!logan howlett x f!mutant!reader

Part Two - Masterlist

summary: Y/n’s life takes a dramatic turn when the Time Variance Authority intervenes, pulling her from a critical moment in her timeline. The TVA sends her to the void where she eventually meets with Deadpool and a very familiar face. With Deadpool's universe in the balance, alongside his reluctant would-be pal, Wolverine, and the enigmatic time-bending mutant known as the Veil, the trio must complete the mission and save Deadpool’s world from an existential threat.

overall warnings: 18+, Fem!Reader, AFAB Reader, Use of Y/N, Her X-Men name is Veil, She/her pronouns, Swearing, Angst, Heavy Violence, Character Death, Deadpool (he’s his own warning), Hurt, Fluff, Angst, Eventual Smut, Slow Burn, TVA

word count: 1.9k

Months have passed since Johnny and I first crossed paths in the bleak void of the multiverse. In that time, the Borderlands have evolved from a chaotic, unsettling expanse into a strange but surprisingly reliable haven. I've acclimated to its disjointed blend of makeshift settlements and the diverse, often eccentric band of misfits who call it home. One of them is Laura, a fierce warrior with a rough edge, but a surprising softness beneath her surface. She once tried to explain the nature of my variant in her universe, but when she mentioned Logan, it struck a nerve too deep for me to handle. 

Today, Johnny and I are on a reconnaissance mission near the heart of the void, tasked with scouting for any unusual movements. We trudge through the arid expanse, our boots crunching softly over the dry, sandy terrain. The sky is a turbulent mix of colors, the horizon a jagged line of shifting shadows and light. Alioth.

The constant strain of maintaining control over my powers in this inhospitable space is wearing me thin. I can’t afford to let my guard down. We push through a small sandstorm that sweeps across the landscape, its gritty particles stinging my skin. I keep my eyes sharp and my hand resting on the hilt of my blade—a gift from Electra, a gesture of trust and camaraderie.

The oppressive quiet is almost a physical presence, the weight of isolation pressing down on me. We are about to turn back when a sudden disturbance breaks through the stillness. My heart skips a beat as the faint sounds of a skirmish reach my ears. Johnny’s hand clamps firmly on my arm, his grip conveying urgency.

“Did you hear that?” he growls, his voice low and taut with focus.

“Yeah,” I reply, straining to discern the sounds amidst the howling wind. The unmistakable clang of metal and the harsh grunts of a fight grow louder. “Let’s check it out.”

We advance cautiously, our footsteps muffled by the shifting sands, moving toward the source of the commotion. As we approach a tall, metal structure, I begin to climb it, Johnny following to gain a better vantage point. The structure, a rusted remnant of some long-forgotten machinery, creaks under our weight. From the top, the view unfolds before me, and what I see makes my breath catch in my throat.

Two figures are locked in combat below us, their movements a blur of speed and violence. The first is a Deadpool variant, clad in a distinctive black-and-red suit. He’s wielding a pair of katanas with an expert’s precision, slicing through the air with practiced ease. His opponent is unmistakably Wolverine, his adamantium claws extended and gleaming with a deadly sheen. Logan moves with a predator's grace, slashing and dodging with equal skill.

At first, I can hardly believe my eyes. A Wolverine—how could one of his variants be here? My mind races, struggling to reconcile this unexpected sight with everything I know. The scene is almost surreal, like a twisted mirror reflecting a reality I can barely grasp. I glance at Johnny, whose expression has turned serious, his eyes narrowed in concentration.

“Is that…?” I start, my voice trailing off, unable to articulate the confusion swirling in my mind.

“Yeah,” Johnny confirms, his tone grim. “Looks like we’ve got some serious anomalies here. We need to find out what’s going on.”

I watch as Deadpool and Wolverine continue their fierce exchange, their movements a violent dance. Deadpool’s agile maneuvers and rapid strikes are met with Logan’s relentless aggression. Despite the chaos, there’s a strange familiarity in their fighting styles—both driven by an intensity that makes them almost mirror images of each other.

“What the hell is going on?” I mutter under my breath, my mind reeling from the disorienting sight.

Johnny’s eyes remain sharp as he observes the conflict below. “We need to intervene. This could spiral out of control, and Cassandra could notice.”

Before I can respond, Johnny is already moving, his voice ringing out with authority as he shouts to the combatants. “Hey! We fight each other, we lose.”

The two fighters momentarily pause, their heads turning toward Johnny as he approaches. Deadpool’s head tilts, his mask concealing any visible expression, but his posture suggests surprise. “Dear god, it’s him.” His voice carries a mix of awe and disbelief. I watch cautiously from above, hesitant to step in, my heart pounding at the sight of Wolverine. He looks so much like my own Logan that the resemblance is almost painful.

Deadpool’s voice rings out with an irreverent edge. “Fair warning, gorgeous. You’re going to encounter some indelicate language. A smidge of ass play, but we’ve been prohibited from using cocaine on camera.”

Johnny, unfazed, urges me to move. “Veil, let’s go.” He turns to address me directly, his tone focused and commanding.

Logan’s head whips up, his eyes locking onto me with a mixture of suspicion and recognition. “Y/N?”

I jump down cautiously, my heart in my throat as I watch Logan tense, his claws extending in readiness. I land, a knee on the ground.

“Now that’s a superhero landing!”

“Who the fuck are you?” Logan demands, his voice a harsh growl, the tension palpable.

Deadpool’s eyes widen in realization. “Buddy, I think that’s—”

“Shut the fuck up. I didn’t ask you.”

In that moment, I see it—the familiar huff of his breath, the furrow of his brows, and the flare of his nostrils. I’d recognize my Logan anywhere. His eyes flicker with something unspoken, a mixture of relief and anguish, and his claws slowly retract.

I step closer, my breath catching in my throat. I can barely hold back the tears as I take another step and break into a small run. Logan meets me halfway, his arms enveloping me in a tight embrace. “I thought you died,” he says, his voice choked with emotion as he buries his face into my neck. I squeeze him tightly, my tears mingling with his.

“The TVA, they sent me away. I tried to find you.” I pause, my voice faltering with the weight of unspoken pain. “The others?” I ask, my eyes searching his for answers. He shakes his head, and my face crumples in grief. I had feared this would happen.

Johnny’s voice cuts through the moment, sharp with urgency. “They’re coming.”

I pull away from Logan at Johnny’s warning, my heart pounding as I steel myself. Logan’s face is a mask of pain, and I feel the crushing weight of my failure. I could have saved them all.

Deadpool’s voice interjects with a mix of confusion and curiosity. “Who’s they?”

The answer comes in the form of an onslaught of vehicles, their jumbled piles of mechanics and scrap metal creating a menacing approach. Toad, Pyro, and Sabertooth are among those heading our way, their presence a foreboding sign of trouble.

Deadpool sidles up beside me, his tone laced with a twisted humor. “Oh, they’re driving angry. Can we pick this reunion up later, pumpkin?” He glances at me, then at Logan, who mirrors my confusion.

Johnny steps forward, his posture exuding determination. “I got this.”

I steady myself, preparing for the impending fight. “Stay close,” Johnny warns, and I move closer to him, readying myself for whatever comes next. Behind me, I hear Logan release his claws, the familiar sound providing a strange comfort amidst the chaos.

The cars circle us, forming a tight encirclement. “Cassandra is going to be giddy when she sees what we caught. You can’t run. Everybody knows that.” Pyro’s voice drips with malice as their vehicles come to a halt.

“You see anyone running, dick for brains? You’re not gonna love what happens next,” Johnny retorts.

Deadpool’s voice breaks in with manic excitement. “Oh, oh my God. Oh my God, he’s going to say it. Ha! Oh my God, he’s gonna say it!”

Johnny grins, preparing for his signature move. “Avengers—”

“—Flame on!” 

“What?”

I look at Deadpool with a mix of bewilderment and exasperation as Johnny ignites in a ball of fire. Pyro watches, amused and relaxed. I create a temporal clone in the sky, urging it to engage as I manipulate time, freezing the action momentarily. As I resume time, Pyro defeats Johnny’s clone with a burst of flames. The real Johnny lands beside me.

“I know you,” growls a voice from ahead, and I turn to see Sabertooth approaching with a predatory glare.

Deadpool’s voice is a mix of awe and irreverence. “Holy shit… Sabertooth… your brother.”

I snap at him. “Deadpool, can it.”

Sabertooth snarls, his voice a deep rumble. “Ready to die!”

Logan prepares to fight, his stance resolute. Deadpool adds with exaggerated seriousness, “Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait! Time! People have waited decades for this fight. It’s not gonna be easy. Maybe not. Shoot the double and take him down. Side control, then full mount and you ground and pound, until he makes no sound because he’s dead.” He’s gripping Logan’s shoulders.

Wolverine’s expression hardens. “Shut the fuck up.”

Deadpool responds with a mix of arousal and admiration. “Oh my God. Okay, good luck. I’m a huge fan.”

The battle erupts with a ferocity that is almost immediate. Logan’s claws flash with deadly precision, and he swiftly decapitates Sabertooth. The severed head skids to a stop in front of Deadpool, who remarks with a grim humor, “What is it, girl? Is there trouble at the well?” It stops at his feet. “Oh, big trouble.” As Deadpool leans down and picks up Sabertooth’s severed head, I can’t help but grimace at the gory mess. Blood drips onto the sand, and Deadpool’s voice rings out with a bizarre sense of theatricality. 

“Behold! The head of your precious queen, Furiosa!” Deadpool announces dramatically, holding the head aloft like a trophy. “I have the Wolverine. I alone control her. You come for me! You come for her!” He points accusingly at Logan. I furrow my brows in confusion. “I’m so sorry. I know it’s pronounced ‘him.’ I’m gender blind. It’s my cross to bear,” he adds with a wink, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

Logan, breathing heavily from the intense battle, turns to me. “Who’s next?”

“Toad! You’re up!” Pyro’s voice cuts through the chaos, and I can’t help but let out a mischievous giggle. I watch with amusement as Toad sticks out his grotesque, warty tongue. I pull out my blade, my eyes narrowed in focus. With a quick, precise motion, I slice through the air, severing the tongue cleanly. It falls to the ground with a wet, squishy plop.

“Fucking nasty,” I mutter as the severed tongue writhes like a headless worm. The sight is both disgusting and oddly fascinating. Toad lets out a high-pitched scream of anguish, and as the chaos escalates, someone flips a switch. I turn just in time to see Logan hurtling towards me, and I brace myself. 

Before I can react, Deadpool appears behind me, and the next thing I know, we’re all smashed together against a massive magnet. The force of the impact slams us into a heap, and I feel myself being crushed between Deadpool and Logan.

“Uh-oh. Holy shi—” Deadpool starts to exclaim before the sound is abruptly cut off. 

The giant magnet presses down hard, and I feel a wave of darkness engulf me. The last thing I hear is Johnny’s distant shout, filled with frustration and concern.

Next Part

A/N: Let me know what you think! I’m sort of loving and hating my writing, next part will be Logan’s POV (maybe)

[arabellavernierwrites]

patched up. will graham.

summary : after accidentally slicing your hand open in the kitchen , will takes care of you.

word count : 463

warnings : mention of knives , mention of blood , mention of injury (cut from knife) , brief swearing , mentions of pain

a/n : hello everyone !!! thank you so much for how kind and supportive you all are. the fact that anyone reads my writing is such an honor and i’m so appreciative of all of you. i wanted to make something a little short today , an idea that came to me this morning. i adore will graham and would love to write for him more , so if you have any requests , please send them in !!! have an amazing wonderful incredible day , love you guys !!!

dinnertime had rolled around once again.

mid-evening, the last remaining golden glow of the sun before it tucked itself in.

the beginning of the ending of another day.

you and will were in the kitchen.

a soft hum of music circled and spun its way through the air, filling the empty space between you two.

you were chopping vegetables, will was stationed at the stove, carefully stirring the stew.

it was rare for you two to be assuming these roles while cooking.

will was almost always assigned to the chopping. he wasn’t known for his cooking skills.

the vegetables on your cutting board fought against you.

your knife was dangerously dull and you knew that. you had been meaning to take them in to get them sharpened for weeks, but the shop was far and you hadn’t had the time in your schedule.

“how’s it going over here?” will asked, stepping beside you, wrapping a hand around your waist.

you looked up at his smiling face, “good”.

whatever solanaceous veggie you were cutting had slipped out of your grip. the blade of the knife fell, slicing your palm.

“shit,” you dropped it, an angry puddle of blood weeping from your slashed skin.

“here,” will grasped your wrist hurriedly, guiding your hand under the faucet as he flicked it on, “are you okay?”

you nodded, the pain was uncomfortable but the vulnerability was worse.

“i’m fine, it doesn’t even hurt,” you lied.

will studied human behavior for a living, he knew you were fibbing.

he placed a soft kiss on the side of your head, “we’ll clean this and then get you patched up, okay?”

“okay,” you tried to smile, wanting to pull away from him and handle it all yourself.

once the blood stopped spilling from your torn skin, will dried it off, pulling you into a chair at the kitchen table.

he sat beside you, pulling you closer so your knees were pressed against the inside of his thighs.

“does it still hurt?” he asked, smearing ointment across your wound.

you dropped your head, “yes”.

he set small sheets of gauze on your palm, gently pressing them down. you winced at the pressure.

“i’m sorry,” he brought your knuckles to his lips, a tender kiss deepening his apology.

his movements were thoughtful and slow, different from how he was understood to be by most people.

will wrapped the elastic roll around your hand, holding all of his work in place.

he taped it up, mindful of your pain, but keeping the cloth secure, “done”.

“thank you,” you placed your good hand on his hip, patting it lightly.

“of course,” he smiled, his big, round eyes pulling you in.

you leaned forward, a gentle, appreciative kiss for the boy you loved the most.

[ashwhowrites]

eddie x cheerleader (strangers 2 lovers)

she had an awful fight with her deadbeat dad when she got out of work at the diner he told her he would try to take dustin away from her and her mom and when she refuses he slashes her face with a beer bottle 3 times ,

shes not close with the other cheerleaders so shes having a bad day

she chooses to sit with hellfire cuz dustin is her brother

eddie gets mad cuz he thinks its a joke to humiliate them so he tells her to go away

she listens but shes crying even more

she apologizes to everyone including dustin when she leaves & leaves him half her sandwich

dustin mike and lucas all say something mean to eddie and they follow u

they find u sitting in ur car and they join u

u and the boys avoid eddie for the rest of the day and he ultimately feels horrible when he overhears u crying to dustin , lucas and mike about why ur upset & then he hears u say he made it worse

he tries to talk to dustin but dustins crying too cuz we’re his best friend and he hates his dad he would never wanna leave Y/N and mike and lucas tell eddie he needs to figure it out how to apologize on his own so he does and u guys get close and both fall in love eventually

⚠️mentions of abuse- no detailed descriptions of the action.

⚠️Eddie is an asshole but he slowly figures it out

Thank you sm for your patience as I worked to get this out💕

Y/N woke up sore with puffy eyes. Her reflection wasn't ever a pretty girl anymore. It was a girl who was abused, hurt, and drained. She gently cleaned the three new marks on her face. Her skin slashed open from her dad. She felt tears falling down her face as she was reminded of last night. Him waiting for her to finish work, threatening to take away Dustin from her. She'd never let that happen. She refused to let her dad ever see Dustin. She'd take the abuse, but she will never let Dustin be the target.

"are you sure you're okay?" Dustin asked from behind her. Sadness in his eyes as he watched his sister place band aid patches on her cheek.

"yes, don't worry about me dusty" she said, she gave the best smile she could. The bandage stopped her from making a real one.

Dustin knew not to try to fight with her. Nodding as he kissed her hurt cheek, heading to get ready for school.

She felt everyone staring at her cheek and she hated it. Luckily everyone in this school was an asshole. None caring to ask if she was okay or what happened. That included her cheerleading team. A group of girls she was with constantly but didn't have a real single friend on it.

She didn't want to deal with them so she headed to where she knows Dustin's table is. Seeing only Mike was seated, she took the spot across from him.

"hey Y/N, you okay?" Mike asked gently. Being closest to Dustin, he knew all about Y/N's relationship with her father.

"not today Mike" she said as gently as she could. Opening her lunch box, dividing her sandwich in half and digging out Dustin's half of the brownie.

She ate silently as the table filled up. Dustin still wasn't arriving yet, so she left his parts of lunch near her lunchbox.

"and who the fuck are you?"

She looked up to see a taller and much older boy, compared to the rest of the table. He had long hair and deep brown eyes. She's definitely seen him with Dustin, but couldn't recall his name

Before she could even answer, he spoke again.

"I don't know what game your little cheerleader ass is playing. But we don't allow stuck up assholes to sit at our table" he barked out, very harshly.

So harsh that she felt like her dad was standing across from her.

"Eddie stop" Mike said harshly as he could see Y/N's eyes watering.

"Mike shut up. I'm handling this" Eddie, apparently, said.

His brown eyes, glaring daggers at her softening slightly when he noticed her bandaged cheek but moved on. Figuring it was some cheerleading accident. She sat quietly letting him continue his rant.

Letting him call her every name in the book. A bitch, a princess, stuck up, rich, and shit she's never heard of.

She sat there and silently cried. Head down as she tried to take deep breaths. Reminding herself this was a random boy, it wasn't her dad and he wasn't going to hurt her.

She panicked when she felt a hand grab her shoulder. Flinching as she flew out of her seat.

Eddie quickly withdrew his hand as she practically sprung out of the seat. His eyes softened once again when he saw tears working down her face.

"Y/N, what's wrong?" Dustin quickly dropped his tray on the table and walked closer to her.

She shook her head and wiped her tears.

"nothing dusty. See you at home" she said quickly, handing him the sandwich and brownie. Racing as fast as she could out of that cafeteria.

~~

"dusty?home? Who is that?" Eddie asked

"that's my sister. What the fuck did you do?" Dustin snapped, Lucas walked up confused at all the tension.

"what's going on?" He asked

"Eddie just totally freaks out on Y/N for no goddamn reason" Mike scoffed. Standing up as he grabbed his backpack.

"really Eddie. What did she do to you?" Lucas added in

"what you say to her?" Dustin said filled with anger. He didn't take that Eddie could easily kick his ass. He can't protect his sister from their dad, but he can protect her from Eddie.

"I didn't know she was your sister! I saw a cheerleader sitting here and I just got pissed" Eddie tried to explain. But seeing all three boys staring at him with the most pissed off look he's ever seen, he had a good feeling he fucked up.

"so you lashed out on her totally unprovoked? I mean did she even say anything to you?" Dustin argue.

"well no...she just kinda sat there and before I knew it she was crying. I didn't think she'd be so upset. Usually the jocks are cold-hearted assholes." Eddie tried to defend his stance

"SHE'S NOT LIKE THEM!" Dustin screamed.

"she only joined that stupid team to get a scholarship so she can leave this hellhole of what she's forced to call home. Fuck you Eddie" Dustin snapped as he grabbed his backpack. Marching straight to the parking lot.

"dude you know nothing about her. If you did, you'd feel like the biggest ass right now" Mike sighed, following behind Dustin.

"well I already feel like an ass" Eddie sighed

"that's a shame. She was excited that Dustin found a new friend. After this, I don't think he's going to ever want to see you again" Lucas added, following behind Mike.

Eddie decided to follow the group. At least he could apologize for being an asshole. He found all of them standing in a circle against her car.

Eddie gave them their space but waited to talk to her. With being so close he could easily hear their conversation.

~~

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to interrupt your guys' lunch. Go eat, I'm fine" Y/N said as she wiped her face. Carefully not to touch her bandage.

"you didn't. Let's take deep breaths and talk a little bit. I know you don't want to talk about last night but may-"

"Dustin! I told you last night never happened and we don't speak about it." She snapped

"you can't let dad abuse you like this" Dustin said softly as he touched his sister's cheek.

Mike held her hand softly and Lucas rubbed her back.

~~

Eddie felt a very bad feeling in his gut.

He's been abused, he knows what it felt like. He didn't ever think twice about a girl being on the cheerleading team would struggle with the same shit he has. Eddie wanted to be better than the jocks but he proved he was just like them. Judging someone based on how others perceived them.

"I don't know what happened. But the way he was calling me names made me think of dad. And I shut down. But then he touched me and my brain was screaming at me to prepare for another blow."

Eddie could feel his own tears in the back of his eyes.

Eddie can't believe he allowed himself to be something he hated.

He was abused, he should have noticed the signs. He should have stopped talking the second she got quiet and didn't say a word.

If it was a joke, like he thought. She wouldn't have sat there and taken every word.

He was an idiot.

He took a deep breath and wiped his eyes. Putting his hands in his jeans as he walked towards the group. All seated in the car, except for Dustin.

"hey Dustin can I talk to her?" Eddie asked softly.

He watched as her eyes snapped to him through the windshield. He wanted to offer her a small smile but his heart shattered at the fear that rested as she quickly looked away

"hell to the fucking no. Leave her and us alone. We won't be at hellfire tonight" Dustin snapped as he slammed the car door.

Eddie watched as she drove out of the parking lot.

~~

Dustin stook to his word. Not a single one of them showed up to hellfire. And Eddie wasn't even upset he had to cancel the campaign. He was more upset with the fact he put himself in a position that he wasn't sure he could get out of.

~~

A few days past and the three little sheep, and Dustin's sister hasn't looked in his direction. They all sat at a table in the back corner, smiling and laughing.

Eddie noticed her cheek was no longer banged. Small marks left in her cheek but she smiled like she wasn't bothered.

Eddie thought she was gorgeous. He thought she was gorgeous when he first saw her at the table but watching as she laughed so hard, she had to clench her stomach. He realized how beautiful she really was.

She didn't deserve what he said to her and she deserved a real apology.

~~

Y/N was searching through her car when she heard someone knock on her window. She jumped and quickly looked to see Eddie standing there.

She rolled down her window

"can I talk to you?" Eddie asked as he peaked his head in

"um I guess" she said quietly.

Eddie hated how closed off her body was. She didn't feel safe near him and he gave a good reason for that.

"I wanted to say I'm really fucking sorry. I was completely wrong. I should have never spoken to you like that. I should have never put a hand on you. You didn't deserve any of that"

She nodded with a small smile. Showing that she appreciated his words.

"I also overheard you talking to Dustin about your dad"

Her body stiffened quickly and Eddie noticed

"it's okay. I actually have been there before" he said softly, pulling out a piece of paper.

"I used to call this number every time my dad got done hitting me. No matter the time, they will pick up. And I added my number at the bottom. In case you need someone who can slightly understand." Eddie smiled as soft as he could.

"thanks Eddie" she said tearfully. Putting the piece of paper in her backpack

~~

She calls Eddie every night, and he always picks up. He listens and listens. He never hangs up first or says he has to go. He devoted all his time into her calls. Speaking of things he buried down to forget. But allowing himself to open it back up for her.

The more she called, the less it was about her dad. She just loved hearing his voice. It made her feel giddy and excited. She was terrified the first time she called without wanting to talk about her dad. Afraid he'd hang up because that wasn't the reason he gave his number out.

"hey Eddie. I'm actually doing good tonight but I still wanted to talk to you. Maybe about happy things? I know it's stupid and that's not why you gave me your number but i-"

"shh it's okay. I gave you my number because I wanted to. And I'll gladly sit here and listen to you talk about anything you want gorgeous. Hit me with it"

After that call, she screamed into her pillow and kicked her feet. Dustin teased her for it for weeks. Making kissy faces at the lunch table when Eddie looked away.

"OW!" Dustin screamed as she kicked his leg under the table.

Eddie turned to the noise, "you good Henderson?" He asked as he looked at Dustin concerned

"totally" Dustin huffed out as he rubbed his leg.

Then she wanted more. She wanted more than phone calls

"random question but would you maybe want to go eat sometime? Talk in person instead?" Her body was shaking with anxiety. Preparing for a no

"only agreeing if this means I get to finally take you on a date"

And after that, there were many more dates planned.

Tags!

@bmunson86 @mxcheese @ladymunson @michaelfuckinglangdon @z0mbie-blah @biittersweet @mirrorsstuff @slightlyvicked @micheledawn1975@ago-godance@magnificantmermaid @tlclick73@hargrovesswifee

[inell]

Hi inell, hope you’re doing good !! I’m sending you a buddie prompt today (i was really tempted to choose the french kiss one since i’m french. ngl) BUT i can’t stop thinking about “a stomach kiss” sooo pretty please ? 👉🏻👈🏻

I’m Yours

Buck/Eddie. Adult. WC: 6105

While helping Eddie do some home renovations while Chris is in El Paso, Buck has been encouraging him to make choices based on what he wants. Eddie applies that lesson to their relationship and decides to be selfish for once.

Tags: Post Season 07, Mutual Pining, Possessive Eddie, Blow Jobs, Hand Jobs, Love Confessions, Kissing, Marking, Romantic Fluff

The dining room table looks like a discount bin at the hardware store. There are screws, nails, cans of paint, paintbrushes with splotches of blue and green stained on the handles, pieces of molding, a stack of unused floor tiles, and cabinet knobs covering the surface. There is not, however, a hammer. Buck moves everything around, just in case it’s lying underneath something, but he still can’t find it. Frowning, he thinks about the morning, trying to remember when he last saw the hammer.

With Christopher in El Paso, Eddie has decided to focus on home improvement. Well, he’s also splitting his time between the gym—which is why his shirts are starting to strain around his biceps, not that Buck’s noticed…too much—and work and the numerous activities that Buck plans to occupy his time so he doesn’t have the time to sit and dwell on his guilt for what happened with Kim—which, yeah, Eddie’s totally to blame for meeting her and starting whatever weird friendship slash reclaiming the past slash not dating but did she know it wasn’t dating thing, but Eddie isn’t to blame for her whole crazy ass idea to cosplay his dead wife and surprise him when he just woke up from a nap with her twisted version of amateur therapy that led to Chris leaving for the summer—and now he’s adding the renovation thing to the list of Ways to Keep Eddie Distracted From Christopher Being Gone While Also Trying to Help Him When Therapy Doesn’t.

Read here on AO3!

[the-s1lly-corner]

Reader having to undress them for an injury (Masky edition)

OTP prompt generator coming in clutch for these silly short posts yet again, and it spat out probably one of my favorite tropes eheheeheheh starting this little mini series off with masky ! usually i pair his up with hoodie but i dont have the energy to write a two in one today

masky gets injured fairly often... not every time he goes out but every few weeks he comes home with more than simple scratches and bruises... and today was particularly bad, it seemed that someone or something slashed him across the back

usually he would handle his wounds himself, but he cant reach it this time... if you hadnt noticed it the giant bloody slash on his back he would have just cleaned and dressed it as best he could and go on, hoping it would heal on its own

buuuuut you saw it, and here you are now. you had begged him to let you help him, and after a few minutes of you worriedly looking over him he lets you do it

both to get you to calm down and because he just wants to get the wound cleaned and dealt with

he has his back to you so he doesnt notice you looking up and down his back; taking in his skin. he had other scars, as well as moles and freckles you never knew he had. he never took his clothing off around you, at most he would take off the jacket but that was it

he doesnt react when you start cleaning the wound, nor does he speak

though, you didnt expect him to talk anyway

luckily the wound wasnt deep enough to need stitches; but that didnt do much for your worry

he doesnt really answer you when you try to ask him what happened, he seems laser focused on the wall in front of him

actually you notice hes tensing himself up while you work on him

you clean and bandage him up, lightly patting him on his shoulder to let him know you were done

the rest of the afternoon kind of goes on as usual, although the mood is a little off from your worry and your internal theorizing for what happened

he does notice youre a little off, so i think he might try to do something to help you unwind a little... it wont be answers or a promise to be safer, it will likely be more him drawing you a warm bath or offering cuddles (which he rarely offers or seeks out on his own!)

you try to keep him at home so he can recover but he seems to evade you to go out and... do his thing

overall the entire experience is weird and tense, especially since masky was so still and quiet as you tended to him but at least he tries to make you feel better

[skyward-floored]

Impa has had plenty of battle experience in her life.

Countless days spent training in both tactics and fighting itself, long hours plugged into doing nothing but honing the skills of her tribe and other abilities she’s been gifted with. Learning the most effective ways to use them all together, and win any fight.

But there’s really no way to prepare yourself for a battle in which both your past lover (who can’t exactly be called her husband since Impa hasn’t even spoken to him in almost two decades, and has also for some reason aligned himself with an army of monsters) and son (who is unaware of the identity of either of his parents, and shouldn’t be on the battlefield anyway since he’s not even of age) are both running around in on opposite sides, making it impossible to keep track of either of them.

Impa huffs as she dodges a spear, worry and exasperation clashing together within her.

She’s lost sight of Link for the third time already this battle, and only has a vague idea of where Volga ended up. Link has demonstrated he can handle himself, but he’s still only a trainee, and Impa’s seen (even from a distance) what sort of trouble he can get into.

And Volga...

The questions that have been swirling around in her head ever since the battle start to come to life again, but Impa ignores them, focusing not on the hurt and confusion and instead on her current goal.

“Where did the boy go, Link?” she asks the captain stationed at the keep she’s helping defend, slashing past a bokoblin and narrowly saving a soldier’s head.

The captain frowns, holding his shield up to block a stray arrow. “I lost sight of him, all I know is he took out a whole squad of bokos and ran off,” he says, forehead creased.

“I saw him heading to the abandoned fort ma’am,” a soldier calls towards her. “Someone said that dragon-man is back there, I think he went to go fight him off.”

A cold feeling steals into Impa’s chest.

“Idiot boy is going to get himself killed,” the captain at her side mutters, slicing viciously at a monster. “Trainees shouldn’t be out here at all, no less fighting dragons. Boy barely looks old enough to shave.”

Impa more than agrees, but doesn’t waste her time with words, leaving the keep in the captain’s capable hands, and taking off to go find Link.

...and Volga.

She follows the soldier’s words, heading to the fort he’d pointed out. Sure enough, as she gets closer, she sees streams of fire burst into the air, hears the clash of weapons and familiar shouts.

Her heart skips a beat, and she runs past bokoblins and moblins alike, pausing only momentarily to fight her way past a few.

None of the monsters that get in her way are terribly tough, but they take time to fight, and Impa is getting anxious, casting continued glances at the smoke and fire nearby. She’s seen firsthand today how good of a fighter Link is, but she’s also well aware of Volga’s strength.

And Link... will need help.

The last bokoblin falls and Impa runs for the fort, arriving just in time to see Volga slam a clawed fist into Link. He cries out as he’s thrown across the cobblestones, landing in a motionless heap, and Impa bolts, blood roaring in her ears.

She slides to a stop in front of Link when Volga tries to advance, putting herself between them and blocking his path. The dragon knight stares at her, shadowed eyes narrowed, and Impa glares back, unmoving in her defense of Link.

She sees no sign of the man she fell in love with in his eyes.

“How noble,” Volga sneers, embers falling from his mouth. “Enjoy your shared grave.”

The fire around him begins to intensify, and Impa’s eyes widen, knowing immediately what it means.

“Oh no...” she breathes, and turns back to Link in a panic, getting to a knee and touching his shoulder. He shifts at her touch, but just a little, his eyes flickering when she shakes him. Volga growls, and Impa whirls back towards him, knowing she doesn’t have enough time to pull Link out of here.

The air around Volga wavers with heat as flames lick up his form, and then he moves forward, blasting a huge plume of fire directly at them both, hotter than death mountain itself.

And right before the flames hit, Link stumbles in front of Impa, a hand outstretched like he hopes to hold back the flames with nothing but his arm.

Impa barely has enough time to be horrified (he’s only a boy, he shouldn’t be protecting her, she can’t watch her son die—) before the flames engulf them both.

...

But instead of burning alive in her former-lover’s flames, Impa instead feels a gentle warmth.

It’s equally soothing and powerful, and she opens her eyes, not even realizing she’d closed them. The sight that meets her makes her startle, and she stares up at Link in utter shock.

Golden light is pouring around Link— around her son, in a wide, protective glow, encircling and keeping them both safe. All of him holds a shine, but his left hand is glowing especially bright, triangles outlined on the back in a beautiful luminescent gold. A sign of which Impa would know anywhere and had already begun to suspect, but almost doesn’t want to believe, to face what it truly means for them all.

Link is the Hero.

Volga’s flames finally peter off, and the light fades, but Link still holds his hand up, fingers shaking a little. Volga studies him, giving Link a calculating look as his eyes dart across his face, and Impa finds herself holding her breath.

Will he notice the similarities, will he pick up on the features he and Link share, will he put the pieces together—

But Volga appears not to recognize anything amiss about Link, or even herself, and he barely spares her a glance as he growls something about not being beaten, and departs the battlefield.

Link shakily falls to a knee almost the moment he’s gone, and Impa resists the urge to grab him by the shoulders and make sure he’s okay, instead joining his side not too quickly.

“H-how...” he croaks, staring at his hand in equal awe and terror. “What was...”

“The triforce of courage,” Impa supplies, and he looks at her, his face covered in grime and sweat, and layered with a healthy amount of shock.

She takes a deep breath as what the meaning of this truly signifies begins to sink into her chest, fear and pride and several other emotions all vying for her attention. But she ignores them all, especially the sharp ache at the realization her son has a long fight ahead of him.

A monster howls somewhere nearby, accompanied by a soldier’s yell, and Impa closes her eyes, then reopens them, packing the emotions away with practiced ease.

“...I’m afraid we don’t have time for me to explain everything to you right now,” she apologizes, offering Link a hand up. “But I promise I will. At the moment, we have a battle to win.”

Link swallows, looking like he wants to say more. But then he straightens his shoulders and nods, letting her pull him to his feet. Impa can feel his hand still faintly shaking, and she can’t resist giving it the lightest of squeezes before she lets go, quickly returning her attention to the battle still raging outside the fort.

They can figure all of this out later. She can figure all of this out later.

Right now, they have a battle to win.

[someplayfuldreams]

hidden shadow

pairing: rafayel x mc

genre: fluff

warnings: none

word count: 2.6k

summary: what i imagined while listening to the secret times "hidden shadow"

A/N: the majority of Rafayel's lines are straight from the audio, which is not my own writing, but everything else is from my delusional mind; this man and his secret times has me in a chokehold, so i had to write this out

also on ao3 under the user playfuldreams

enjoy!~

The loud sound of blades clashing against each other reverberated through the air. As soon as you block his swing, you jump back to prepare for the next blow. You adjust your grip on the handle, hoping it wouldn’t slip out due to the sweat. 

Before you can finish catching your breath, Rafayel rushes forward, swinging his dagger up diagonally. 

Your body tenses. Thankfully, your reflexes kick in time and you are able bring up your dagger to block the attack. But since you couldn’t get into the proper position, the force of the slash pushes you off balance on the sand and end up falling on your butt. 

“Ah..,” you let out a soft yelp before looking up to see a dagger pointing at you. You glance back at the holder, making eye contact with burning purple eyes. 

He spins the dagger, sheathing it, then holds out his hand. 

“Let’s stop here for today,” He says. “A sandstorm approaches. We must return to our tent.”

You take his hand and get up. Handing him your dagger, you dust the sand off your pants and hands.

We start walking to the tent we had set up prior to the training session. Only the sound of sand shuffling beneath is heard, accompanying your thoughts about your bodyguard’s hidden past.

You look up to see him gazing over the horizon clearly in deep thought. 

Your curiosity gets the better of you, and you speak up.

“I thought a skilled guard like you was invincible. Are you saying a sandstorm is enough to beat you?” You ask, teasingly.

“Huh? I’m not completely unaffected by the harsh environment” Rafayel responds.

Just as you are about to say another sassy remark, you watch as he walks closer to you. He stops right in front of you, leaning close enough you can see the pink highlights in his eyes. 

“But a competent assassin can still fight despite the sand,” he whispers.

You blink a few times before looking down, unable to hold his strong gaze any longer. He steps back and you can almost see the smirk on his face. You clench your fists. If you had just kept eye contact a little longer, you would be the one smirking not him. 

You give a little huff, stomping forward. 

You feel Rafayel’s gaze on you, but you refuse to give in and turn around. After a few more steps, Rafayel grabs your wrist, pulling you to a stop. 

He walks around to stand in front of you. This time you hold your head high, meeting his gaze straight on. 

He tilts his head, giving a sly smile.

“Would Your Highness like to try? With your determination, let’s do it,” Rafayel proposes. 

He unties one of the black ribbons tied to his arm, pulling it taut. As he walks closer, your heart skips a beat and feel yourself warm.

“Close your eyes and hold still,” He says softly.

You obediently listen to him. With your eyes now closed, your nerves are amplified.

His hot breath sweeps over your ears causing you to shiver. You hear him chuckle lightly. You bit your lip and resist the impulse of swinging at him.

You flinch when you feel something close to your face. 

“It’s just the ribbon. Don’t worry, I’ll be gentle.” Rafayel assures you.

The smooth silk is cool over your heated skin. It slides over your eyelids and cheekbones before stopping in what seems to be the right place.

He carefully ties the ends behind your head, making sure not to get your hair in the knot.

Even after the ribbon is tied, you can still sense his warmth in front of you

“Now, Your Highness’s eyes are covered. How is it?” He asks. 

With your eyes blindfolded, you are unable to read Rafayel’s face. You shift your weight and feel a little startled when the ground feels more unsteady than usual. 

“It’s fine when I’m standing still, but I don’t know if I can move around like this. What if I..”

“Stay calm.” You hear him say. 

Warm hands slowly hold your shoulders, comforting you.

“When sight cannot be relied on, the other senses must be utilized.” Rafayel advises.

He runs his hands down your arms, taking your hands in his. He gives a small squeeze before letting go.

You hear the sand shuffling in front of you and no longer sense Rafayel. He must have stepped away from you. You begin to feel more uncertain now that Rafayel isn’t there to support you.

“Try and catch me,” Rafayel says. And then, you hear nothing. 

You stand in place, hesitating. How are you supposed to find him blindfolded?

Taking a deep breathe, you use your other senses like he told you to.

You feel the warm breeze along with the small pinpricks of occasional sand grains flying over you. The only sounds you can hear are those of sand swirling on the wind. Not knowing where to even go, you start walking in a random direction.

It takes a lot more concentration to walk on sand blindfolded. It felt like you would fall with one wrong step.

A noise to your right catches your attention. You change your direction towards it. After a few more careful steps, you hear more sand moving to your left. You spin around towards the new sound.

Then all of a sudden, there’s the sound of footsteps behind you. 

You quickly turn around, trying to focus on pinpointing the exact location.

You begin to get frustrated, but take another breath to calm yourself. 

You’re the one who asked Rafayel to train you so you could protect yourself better. You would follow through with it.

More footsteps are heard all over the place. Focusing in, you decide to take a leap of faith and begin confidently walking straight towards the last sound you heard, reaching your hands out to hopefully feel the rough cotton of Rafayel’s tunic. 

After about 10 steps, the sounds disappear again, but this time you catch a light scent of the sea breeze that reminds you of home. You immediately turn around, swinging your arms in front of you.

Your hands hit something solid, causing you to lose your balance. You frantically move your hands trying to grab onto something to stabilize you. 

You feel strong arms come around you as your hands grip the fabric of his shirt.

Rafayel moves his arm over your head as you both tumble to the ground, rolling twice down the dune. You feel yourself land on top of him, raising your head, wishing you could see if he was okay.

“Not bad… But it was only a matter of luck.” You hear him say below you.

You let out a sigh. Does he really have to say it like that?

You feel his abdominal muscles tense as he sits up. You shakily get off him, kneeling on the sand. Being unable to see and trying to be stable on shifting sand was not easy.

You feel his rough hand take yours as he helps you stand up. He dusts off the sand on your back as you shake your head, trying to get the sand out of your hair. 

He laughs, clearly entertained at the sight. 

“Instead of laughing, you could lend a hand,” you say. 

“Apologies Your Highness, allow me to assist,” he says, before gently running his fingers through your hair, ridding it of any leftover sand.

“Alright, it’s gotten late. We should head inside now.” Rafayel says.

You expect him to untie the blindfold, but instead, you feel his hand entwine with yours.

“Are you not going to remove the ribbon?” you ask. 

He chuckles, before saying, “Trust me, Your Highness. I will get you back safe and sound.”

Hand in hand, he leads you the rest of the way.

You hear the tent flap open as he leads you in. He lets go of your hand, and you hear what you suppose is him tying the entrance closed. You just stand in place, not wanting to trip over anything while blindfolded. You don’t remember if you both managed to clean up the place before going out to train.

Footsteps come up from behind you. You tense, unsure what would happen next. 

Rafayel just takes your hand again, leading you further in the tent. 

“Sit down,” he says. “Don’t remove the blindfold just yet,” he adds for good measure.

You let him guide you to sit on the bed. He lightly presses on your shoulder, telling you to move further back. The sheets ruffle from the movement. 

You feel the bed dip down lower and assume Rafayel sat on it as well. Hearing the sheets rustle, you can tell Rafayel is getting closer. The movement stops once you feel his knee touch your thigh.

You suddenly feel his breath grazing your lips. Your caught between your desire to move forward to get a taste or backward to let yourself think more clearly. But before you can make your decision, you hear him speak.

“Even in darkness, one must be able to pinpoint an enemy’s vital points with ease,” Rafayel says.

He grabs your hand and places something cold in it. You grip the object. It’s smooth and relatively light. It seems the lesson was going to continue.

“With a weapon, only some strength is needed to wound the stomach.” 

He must have handed you a dagger. Not knowing if it was sheathed or not, you carefully bring the hand with the weapon back to your side. Shifting your position so that you were kneeling before him, you hesitantly bring your other hand to lay over his body. Your breath catches in your throat as you feel his muscles ripple beneath your hand. 

You have a fleeting thought of regret that there was fabric between your hand and his skin. 

He said to wound the stomach, but you aren’t sure what part of him you’re touching. 

“The chest?” Rafayel kindly gives you an answer.

You move your hand side to side trying to get your bearings. His chest was so wide you couldn’t tell if you were on the side or in the middle of it.

You hear him gasp and feel his muscles tense as you run your hands over a bump on his chest.

“Not there. Your Highness needs to go lower. It will be a fatal blow if you stab there.”

You reflexively tighten your grip, memories of Rafayel bleeding from his chest flooding your head.

“It ensures one’s victory.” He continues.

His warm hand covers yours, giving it a light squeeze before letting go, as if telling you to continue.

You slowly move your hand up, feeling the border of his tunic turn into smooth skin. 

You hear him inhale deeply when your skins connect. 

As if mesmerized, you forget the goal of the lesson and continue moving your hand up. Over his shoulders, his collarbone, and ending up over his adam’s apple. 

You lightly feel his pulse beating beneath your hand. Telling you he is alive. No longer stuck between life and death due to your careless mistake. You mindlessly press your fingers further into his skin, hoping to feel his pulse more clearly.

“The throat is also a vulnerable area.”

His voice startles you. Realizing you might have put too much force in your grip, you loosen your hand but keep it hovering over his skin. 

“Scared?” He asks.

You’re unable to say anything back. You try to fight any conjured up images of him being hurt.

Just as you try to think of something to distract yourself, you feel his hand cover yours once more.

“Never mind, Your Highness’s hand is slightly cold.” He says worryingly. He gently rubs his thumb on the back of your hand.

“Try to do what I just said.”

You let out a small breath, banishing the unnecessary thoughts. What were you supposed to find again? Right, the stomach.

You move your hand downward, going back over the rough fabric. 

You hear him exhale right by your ear as you slide your hand further down. His muscles tense and untense, creating a rhythm with his breathes, following the trail of your gliding hand. 

You get to a point where you can feel light grooves partitioning several muscles. You stop your hand, hesitating on your next move.

“It’s the correct spot, but Your Highness’s hand still hasn’t moved,” Rafayel says.

“An assassin wouldn’t be this slow.” He teases.

You rolled your eyes underneath the blindfolded. You adjust your grip on the dagger and move the hand a bit closer. But you still hesitate to make the final move. 

Instead of bringing the dagger up, you move the hand on him, trying to find the best spot. However, you get lost in the feeling of his abdomen expanding with each breath. 

Rafayel waits patiently and quietly, which is a first for him.

“Carelessness leads to an assassin’s death,” Rafayel says.

You clearly spoke too soon.

If that’s how he was going to play it, you decide to tease him back. 

You move your hand to the side slowly. You feel the heat from his abdomen transfer to your palm. As you keep moving to the left, you start to feel a curve, stopping once your palm is at his hip. 

“No, that is not it either,” He says, unaware of your purpose.

You give a coquettish squeeze, reveling in the movement of the muscles beneath. 

Rafayel sighs loudly. You tense when you feel something tickle your ear. It’s almost feathery. His breathes are more clear as he has gotten closer to you. 

You decide to get more bold and slide your hand back down 

He gasps in your ear. Your desire to see more of his reactions builds your confidence, but before you can go any further, your playful touch is halted.

“Um… stop right there.” Rafayel grabs your hand tightly.

He chuckles, breathless.

“As a rookie, Your Highness’s courage is commendable.”

You can’t help but smirk at his remark.

“Yet does a simple blindfold excuse a person’s brazenness?” Rafayel says, his voice getting closer with every word, until he’s speaking right into your ear.

Startled, you move back to sit on the balls of your feet with your knees still on the bed. 

“Your Highness didn’t do it on purpose?” he asks teasingly, still holding your hand in place. 

“Of course not. All I did was listen to my teacher’s instructions,” you say innocently.

He lightly huffed in amusement.

“Your Highness’s acting is lackluster when it comes to being clueless,” Rafayel says.

He finally lets go of your hand allowing you to sit more comfortably.

You hear some shuffling on the bed, but can’t tell what Rafayel was doing. 

You flinch when you suddenly feel a touch on your other hand. The dagger is taken away from you. He probably is putting it away. 

You guess the “lesson” is over. But just when you’re about to ask for him to remove the blindfold, you hear him speak.

“It’s fine,” he says.

You tilt your head towards his voice. A hand comes up to your shoulder and before you realize what’s going on, you feel your back coming into contact with the bed. 

The sheets rustle around you and you feel a presence over you. 

“I forgot to mention. A good assassin must be able to counterattack.” Rafayel says laughing.

Shocked, you lie there for a second processing what just happened. 

Then you start fighting back.

“Rafayel, you!”

You raise your hands and they immediately make contact with Rafayel’s chest. You put pressure on him hoping to take control of the situation.

He laughs as your weak attempts to push him off. Instead of getting off, he draws even closer.

“Is Your Highness prepared for the next lesson?” He whispers in your ear.

You swallow at his words, finding yourself heating up at the thought of what was to come next.

[axailslink]

I'm proud of her

Shuri Udaku x Dora Milaje reader

Summary: Shuri sees your scars from combat with Okoye

You hiss at the feeling of the hot water running down your back as it hits the newly found scars you bite your lip trying not to make a sound. "Good Bast fucking hell" you hit the wall as you hold back tears Shuri immediately drops her keys and comes to you "baby what's wrong?" The stinging sensation only continues to pass through your body as the water hits the back of your legs which are also covered in scars. The blood runs down the drain with the water but you can see Shuri's worry plain as day "you didn't have a mission today is this from training?" She gently grabs your arm and you hiss this time from soreness "I'll be fine the Dora Milaje doesn't feel weakness" Shuri shakes her head "well you're not the Dora Milaje right now you're my wife and you're in pain" you let go of the wall for balance and start to wash up careful as you let the soap run down your shoulders and back.

Shuri hates seeing you in pain like this she understands it's part of your life and it's something you've trained for but this was ridiculous to her. You can barely move she grabs her keys and stomps out of the house. She could always call Okoye but this was a conversation that could not be held over the kimoyo beads she quickly arrives to Okoye's shared home with W'Kabi. Okoye answers the door with a smile on her face as she speaks to someone but Shuri is not smiling. "General" she nods "Queen" Shuri lets herself in as to not cause a scene in front of the border tribe going about their daily lives outside the home. "My wife came home barely able to move I understand that what she does requires pain but she can't fucking move Okoye." Okoye is taken back she's aware that her methods are a bit much but she cut you where she knew needed to. You need to be prepared for that pain in battle or on any mission. "I'm not asking you to go soft on her I know she can handle it but I'm letting it be known there is a limit to what I'll take and my wife not being able to move is my damned limit." Okoye nods understanding she wouldn't dare argue but she does speak her voice strong and unwavering "I understand my queen but she's also a Dora Milaje warrior her scars are of her own recklessness it happens. I do not apologize for training my warriors the way I always have but I do apologize for these feelings you are having." Shuri nods and grabs her spear "Okoye I am no way doing this out of hate I'm simply curious to know that if these same things were done to you could you not flinch not hiss at the pain?" Okoye watches Shuri as she turns her around and uses the end of the spear on her back gently slicing through her clothes W'Kabi moves but Okoye stops him "I just want to know if she has to go through this pain does every soldier?" "Yes" Okoye nods as she bites her bottom lip Shuri grabs the edge of spear and slashes at the back of her knee not so gently this time with the same amount of effort she's sure Okoye would have used on you in training. Okoye loses her balance for a moment Shuri gives her back her spear and Okoye nods as Shuri grabs her hands helping her up. "Can you walk on that?" "No send her my apologies" Shuri nods "none of that was done in anger that was done in understanding my wife has two slashes like that on the back of both of her legs and some on her back to match. Have a lovely night General." Shuri leaves the house silently.

Okoye watched Shuri grow up and every day she became prouder. To some the scene before them may have been upsetting but to Okoye that display was full of nothing but strength and love. What Wakanda has always been about the reason she became general the reason she wanted to order underneath the throne. "I'm proud of her" she keeps a stoic facial expression as the door closes.

Shuri returns home to find you still in the bathroom no longer showering but struggling to wrap your scars she immediately helps. "Where did you go?" Shuri hesitates for a moment before mumbling "to see Okoye" you quickly turn around but immediately regret it as you feel a sense of pain running up your neck "you shouldn't have gone she'll think I'm weak" Shuri shakes her head "no she actually told me your scars are of your own recklessness I don't think she thinks you're weak I think she thinks you're strong." Shuri turns you around and looks at the green leaves you have crushed in a bowl it causes her to smile. That's what she used to use to help your scars when you were truly younger she was sixteen making Wakanda's new science and you were sixteen begging to join the Dora Milaje. "You know we have medicine" you nod "I like this better it's natural and it stops the bleeding faster hail wakandan science eh?" She smiles and kisses your forehead as she gently puts some in her hands and presses it firmly to a bloodied slash "you do remember this gets you high right?" You nod "once again praise Wakandan science" she laughs and kisses you "oh if I wasn't in pain right now..." You mumble into the kiss she only smiles "give it five minutes you'll forget about the pain."

A/n: yeah I don't even know where this came from this was supposed to be a totally different fic 😅 I'm always going off script.

[remy2fang]

F.A.N.G's super LONG Shadaloo PR monologue on the Official Street Fighter V website (Japanese and Desktop only). He talks about a myriad of things that include the purpose of the website, the Four Heavenly Kings, the Dolls, other members of Shadaloo, food, some SFV gaming advice, himself, and so much more. This started in 2016, but it had updates. Thankfully, ryo_redcyclone compiled the entire transcript of the updated version onto this page.

I used Google Translate for this. Apologies if some of the translations look weird. I broke it down to smaller paragraphs, otherwise the entire thing is basically a very big block of text lol. Also, you’ll notice that F.A.N.G says desu a lot. Normally it’s spelled です (is/am/are/to be, usually a sentence ender) in hiragana, but the way he said it is デス in katakana. This is a play on words. He is still using desu, but he is also saying the English word “death” (he’s a poisonous assassin and mad scientist after all). In SF6, A.K.I. also emulates her master’s speech pattern in the Japanese version. She too says desu in デス 💜💜.

Anyway, here’s the translation:

——

Nishishi! Everyone of Shadaloo army, how are you? It's your reliable boss, Lord F.A.N.G.

The Shadaloo C.R.I., also known as the Shadaloo Combat Research Institute, has been renewed. It's a calm and stylish atmosphere in white. I love Lord Bison’s psycho power and purple, which is the color of poison (I also like pink). With the emphasis on visibility, I made it white, with great heartache and even shredding my intestines. Feeling like your intestines are being ripped apart is a powerful expression. It hurts, it hurts so much. It's better to be poisoned than to be slashed. The poison handled by I, Lord F.A.N.G, is something I learned in special training since I was young. Metals other than gold are said to melt! Nho ho ho ho, isn’t it amazing? Moreover, you can take poison in and out freely! ( But I'm always releasing a little bit at a time, so my cell phone and other things are made of pure gold). In other words, I, Lord F.A.N.G, is the most treacherous and strongest. Oh, the strongest is Lord Bison.

And this time, at the Shadaloo CRI, you can find out the usage rate of characters in online matches. The usage rate of those who belong to Shadaloo is skyrocketing! As for Lord Bison, the usage rate is over 200%. You can understand even if you don't see it. Mr. Balrog is about 2%. After all, it's hard being a popular character. We have no choice but to make the world better with the power of Shadaloo! And then the diagram is counted on a monthly basis. The counting is done manually by low-ranking Shadaloo soldiers under the orders of F.A.N.G. ...That's a lie. What is a diagram in the first place? To explain to those who say, it is a research site made by the Shadaloo Information Department that is full of the knowledge of the world: According to Shadopedia, the aggregated information was visualized in two dimensions with an expression model such as graphs and tables. In other words, the strong one is on top and the weak one is on the bottom. However, it is not a visualization of the performance of the character. It's calculated based on which character is winning "around the world" during "this period." Don't give up even if you're at the bottom. As long as everyone uses it and win, that's fine, desu.

Well, today, I'm going to work hard on training while having beef stew with shakko power extract! The CRI itself is also scheduled to evolve every day. It's good to check it every day. The central part of this Shadaloo secret base is where I am now, I update it from here. Oh, those beautiful statues you see behind me... From the right, there’s the "World's Strongest Number 2”, that’s me. Next is claw-man, a cruel narcissist with a really bad character. Lord Bison, the perfect ruler who was born to conquer the world! And finally, the boxing man, desu. I will update the information from time to time from this majestic room. The electricity at the Shadaloo base is mostly made up of geothermal power sources. It's ecological, desu! Shadaloo’s slogan is “Easy on Earth”! That's why this room is quite hot. This place will also be for daily training.

Endurance is perseverance! That’s it, desu. Endure after having poisoned your enemy! Brilliantly dodge the opponent's attack so that you won't be beaten! This is the true value of F.A.N.G-style martial arts. If you don't get hit, you won't lose, so that's how it is. I guess it's a different character in this work where offense is important. A database that aggregates information on all kinds of fighters around the world. Uhihihi, there’s all we know and don’t know about that fighter, that damned female detective, that muscular wrestler, some rolled beard from a former royal family, a guy with a hairstyle like an eryngii mushroom, and a person who stretches his hands. Of course, we can also find information about Shadaloo from here. If you know them and know yourself, you will never be defeated in a hundred battles. It's good to work hard to achieve Lord Bison’s ambitions. That device, that plan, and if you have this powerful database, conquering the world will be easy as taking candy from a baby. It is, desu.

Speaking of rice before breakfast, have you finished your meal yet? Now I'm doing a beef stew fair at Shadaloo Cafeteria on the 13th basement floor. I like beef stew a lot. As I said earlier, I've already eaten twice today. Finished eating. It seems that it will be full of energy with psycho power. After eating, it's good to take a good rest before going to the training facility.

It's good to train your energy and physical strength at the 48th room of the Shadaloo training ground. Don't neglect your daily efforts to create trust and achievements. If you live a lazy life with plenty of time, you will become an incompetent person like that Balrog. I still can't believe that such a guy is the Four Heavenly Kings. Lord Bison should also reconsider this. Is the punch power the best in the world? I, the invincible Lord F.A.N.G, could melt such a thing with poison! I don't like the bastard who wears a mask. I can't forgive the attitude of looking down on people! In the first place, he doesn’t have enough loyalty to Lord Bison! Only by serving Lord Bison is a true Shadaloo soldier. I think people have to respect each other. Now, you are also aiming to be the strongest Shadaloo soldier at the CRI!

If you have time, it's good to earn fight money in story mode and unlock additional characters. No matter who ever comes, I, Lord F.A.N.G, am and always will be invincible; this won’t change! In other words, I'm Number 1!! ・・・・・・ Oh, Lord Bison is Number 1, so I'm Number 2! I’m the strongest and invincible Number 2, desu! Wow, that was close. It would bring me bad luck....

Hmm? How can I become strong? That's a simple thing, it's good to master the poisonous hand. My V-Skill, Nishodoku, is unblockable. Are you surprised? To be honest, I was also surprised. It flies slowly, so you can chase it and use it as a check. It's good to take away the opponent's physical strength and keeping them from reaching you with Nishikyu or a Sotoja. Hmm? Isn't that what you mean? What do you mean! If you don't want to learn poison, you can play against opponents from all over the world in an online match! It's the best way to get stronger in the actual battle! Of course, it's better to collect information about the characters before fighting. It's more interesting to grasp not only the characters but also the habits and characteristics of the opponent, and you can fight advantageously. The CRI is for you, a rookie Shadaloo soldier! If you have this, you can advance into a top-class Shadaloo soldier!

I'm going to explain about Shadaloo, to which we belong, here. I'm sure you know that it's a secret society that works behind the scenes all over the world, but there are also many excellent engineers and programmers. I'm working hard for the effective use of psycho power and world peace. In addition to weapons development, we are also conducting experiments that maximize human power and food development that does not expire at all. The salary is paid in the dedicated currency ZENNY.

In order to work on conquering the world with peace in mind, we are preparing all uniforms and residences in Shadaloo. Speaking of uniforms, it is a characteristic shoulder armor, desu. It is a thing that imitates Lord Bison’s costume. All are color coordinated. There is a color change once every 4 years. It was just the timing of the switch this year, so it's a refreshing blue. Before that, it was a chic brown, mustard-like color. A hat that goes well with the uniform is prepared. Lower-ranking soldiers are required to wear helmets during their duties. It is possible to protect the head and temporarily strengthen the body with a psycho power receiver. A stylish red beret is prepared outside the mission. I'm sure it will look good on you too. Red is the color of passion! It's Lord Bison’s color!

Speaking of missions, Shadaloo soldiers sometimes fight. Hitting, kicking, throwing, and poisoning are scary, aren't they? But! Even if you are like that, if you are learning Shadaloo-style martial arts, you will do a great job! From a posture that looks harmless for a moment, a powerful tackle, and a flowing cooperation technique, an alarming sharp punch, this combo is the legendary [Shadaloo Punch] desu. In addition, with eyes like a dead fish, let the opponent off guard and rise at once while rotating (there is no attack judgment here) A heavy kick like stepping on a falling coin. This is [Shadaloo Kick] desu. It's a must-have technique for the intermediate promotion exam, so it's good to practice well.

Speaking of Lord Bison’s aides that I remembered in the battle, in addition to the Four Kings and I, the magnificent Lord F.A.N.G, there are also his elite female body guards called the Dolls. They have a special combat training, so they are quite skilled. If you have the chance, it's a good idea to practice with them. I'm going to explain the members.

First of all, the one with the pink curls. [Enero] She is the leader and her role is to plan special missions and give instructions to other members. She can also fight, so it seems that she often go to the battlefield and take direct command. She’s good at copying vocal cords, and she can confuse the enemy. She has a lot of pride, so she sometimes have trouble handling it.

Next is [Février] She’s in charge of firearms who skillfully use two submachine guns. She has a very foul mouth, so you'd better be careful. You can never win if you have a sting. It's a waste of time. Her hair and glasses are the charm points.

[März] She is good at information manipulation and cyber attacks. She can't physically fight, but she seems to more than compensate with that. It's scary when this type gets angry. Actually, boxing in secret (exercise?) It seems that she was doing it.

[Aprile] She carries a medical kit and is in charge of providing first aid to her comrades. I, Lord F.A.N.G, have bestowed upon her a finely developed neurotoxin, so that in case of danger she can use the poison and attack. She's originally from Italy and apparently did rhythmic gymnastics, so they took notice of her and snatched her up! That’s scary! Kidnapping is bad!

[Satsuki] Japanese samurai-style fighter desu. The combat power is Number 1 for the Dolls. The sharpness of her beloved samurai sword blade is amazing. Well, if it comes to me, I'll melt the whole sword with poison. Actually, she is also good at taijutsu, and she has the technique of grabbing her opponent, jumping to the sky and hitting the ground. It's a sub-style technique of the hooligan combination, and it's pretty cool. She also does sliding.

[Juli] She’s a combatant who uses a sniping arrow. It seems that a lot of things happened in the previous work, but she has returned safely to Shadaloo and participated in the conquest of the world.

[Santamu] This is a member who is good at fighting with spears. Because she has good eyesight, she can look over the enemy from high ground and carry out the mission efficiently. The Golden Lion Tamarin, Kiki, is like her partner. It seems that she likes animals and is heartbroken to exploit Kiki, but it is unavoidable in this world and for Lord Bison.

[Xiayu] and [Jianyu] are twins. It appears to me that the one fighting with nunchakus and sporting a classical Chinese Opera face paint is Xiayu, while Jianyu is the one that fights with acrobatics wielding a stick; I tend to confuse them often. Seems to be good at combination techniques, desu. It's kind of sneaky.

[Noembelu] She’s the powerhouse of the Dolls. She is equipped with two one-handed axes. The attack of holding an axe in both hands and slashing while rotating is intense. She’s a quiet person with few words. It seems that growing vegetables is her hobby, so she provides a corner of the rooftop of the base and is making a vegetable garden. Also, she seems to be good at making dolls.

Finally, [Decapre] She is a fighter who is most strongly influenced by Lord Bison's psycho power, desu. Does she hate the former Doll Killer Bee? I would like to know. I don't know anything about their past, so I can't say anything. It seems that the mask had a minor change.

..Well, I'm really lucky to be working at Shadaloo with such unique members. I should feel honored. With Lord Bison's blessing, I'll be sure to continue the quest for world domination.. Please invite your friends as well. It's good to learn what you don't understand at the CRI. Everyone gets along well, let’s do world conquest! For the sake of the wonderful Lord Bison. Yes, yes, I remember!

Let me tell you one thing. Why don’t I, Lord F.A.N.G, have a holiday costume? Is the Chinese girl’s costumes popular? Is the curled hair lady's swimsuit popular? Oh dear, desu. There are shirts with bird (flamingo) patterns during summer vacations and my favorite purple sleepwears, so why don't they release those?! There's no mistake in selling explosively, but I don't understand!

——

There’s also an older version from 2016 which was translated in English by Miðgarðsorm. It’s the 11th post. Because this one’s older, it’s shorter and have less content than the updated one from above. But there are some interesting differences. Instead of mentioning his favorite food being beef stew, F.A.N.G said he doesn’t like curry that much. Now you know his food preferences 😄😄.

This neat feature reveals a lot about F.A.N.G’s character, sentiments, and how his poison works all in a fun and upbeat way. And isn’t it neat that he ran and updated the website himself too (according to website lore)? But I wonder how he feels every time he sees himself at the bottom for character usage? 😅😅. I think that this type of content was meant to make F.A.N.G into an endearing character. He gives some gaming tips and words of encouragement to the player, something that wasn’t present in SFV as he would often belittle or threaten anyone that isn’t Bison. The website gives us a friendlier portrayal of F.A.N.G, which I think contributed a slightly positive-leaning perception of him in Japan as oppose to the rest of the world. Seeing things like this, I wish it was translated for the English version of the website. This type of supportive personality from him was transferred into SF6 when he’s providing medical advice. I didn’t understand why F.A.N.G was so oddly “helpful” and “kind” in SF6 at first (even if it’s just to gain something he wants), but now it makes sense when looking back at this old gem. I wonder if F.A.N.G talks to A.K.I. like this when she’s training and studying under him? I wouldn’t be surprised if he did and it’s no wonder A.K.I. loves him. I can imagine him giving her exercise and educational tips while encouraging her to do her best and never to give up 💜😄💜😄.

And I just love how F.A.N.G complained that all of the cool DLC costumes go to Chun-Li. Like yeah, a lot of people actually did share his sentiments on that lol. But it’s Chun-Li. She is the face of Street Fighter along with Ryu.

[luxuriq]

A Flower Frozen, His » Ch. 3 | Sub-Zero (Bi-Han)

[ 18+, minors DNI ; dom/sub, degradation, rough, third pov ]

Summary: An elite brothel, The Red Orchid, has sent six girls to their newest client: the Lin Kuei, an old warrior clan. But the brothel is just a front for a highly secretive group of spies, and their objective might be more than simply offering entertainment for the warriors: their target none other than the Grandmaster himself. How will the girls - especially their leader, codenamed Iris - navigate their dangerous mission, and what will happen if they get caught?

→ Reader character is named for clarity reasons, but it's still a reader character, not an OC.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | ...

Ch. 3 words: 2083

A/N: A preview of what is to come ... (๑ᵔ⤙ᵔ๑)

Chapter 3

This was a test; Iris could tell that much. The Grandmaster was giving them one chance to prove themselves. If they did, then getting into his chambers – getting to know him would become a lot easier.

All the girls were already booked for the day, but Grandmaster’s wishes were a priority. Iris chose Peony to do the job. She was a gentle looking young woman, with a pretty adventurous side. If anyone was going to be able to handle Bi-Han, it was going to be her.

“Just do whatever he says. He likes to show off his power,” Iris was giving Peony some last-minute instructions. “And definitely call him Grandmaster. I think he likes it.”

They were in the middle of getting ready for a visit to Grandmaster’s chambers: a touch of colour on the eyelids, a subtle stain of lipstick, a drop of the sweetest perfume on the wrists and ankles.

Peony giggled, “Sounds like fun. I’ll do my best, Boss.”

“Thank you,” Iris gave her an encouraging smile and moved to do Peony’s hair. “Don’t think too much about Ice Blue. Just focus on giving him the best time of his life.”

“I always aim for that,” Peony said with a proud smile.

Iris deftly braided Peony’s hair – a simple hairstyle with none of their usual accessories. There was a reason for it. Iris didn’t want Bi-Han to crush them when he grabbed Peony’s hair and manhandled her in whatever way he wanted. Just the thought of what had happened yesterday made her cheeks warm up.

They were ready just on time. Since Peony didn’t know where to go, Iris led the way to the Grandmaster’s chambers. The thought of seeing him again … Iris took a deep breath. She needed to focus.

She knocked on the door. They did not have to wait long before the door swung open, revealing an imposing figure of the Lin Kuei’s Grandmaster. He was wearing his usual blue robes, the sleeveless top showing off his impressive muscular arms when he crossed them over his chest.

“Grandmaster,” Iris said and both her and Peony bowed low.

“Whore handler,” Bi-Han mocked the way she greeted him.

“This is Peony. She will be the one entertaining you today,” Iris straightened back up, a polite smile playing on her lips despite Bi-Han’s previous jab.

“I’m at your service, Grandmaster,” Peony added softly.

Bi-Han regarded them for a moment and then took a step to the side. He beckoned Peony to come in.

“Very well then, I will leave you in Peony’s capable hands …” she trailed off as he cocked an eyebrow. “I mean, I will leave Peony in your capable hands. Please enjoy yourself.”

She was about to turn on her heel and scurry away, but his commanding voice made her stop in her tracks.

“Where do you think you’re going, whore handler?”

“B-Back to my chambers,” she stuttered.

“Have I dismissed you yet?” his voice was ice cold, but she felt warm all over.

“No … Grandmaster.”

“You leave only after I tell you to. Now get inside,” he commanded.

A million thoughts swirled in her mind as she slowly took a step past Bi-Han and into a rather cozy sitting area slash office. He did not strike her as a man who liked to share. Was he going to make Peony watch? Or was he going to take one and then immediately the other? The questions going through her head mixed with flashes of yesterday’s events. At the memory of his cold touch, her heart skipped a beat.

Peony was standing in the middle of the room near a low coffee table and a few plush chairs, watching Iris enter with interest. The Red Orchid girls were usually entertaining solo, but doing a group activity wasn’t unheard of. The handler usually wasn’t involved, however.

Iris stopped a few steps into the room, not knowing where exactly the Grandmaster wanted her. He followed close behind her, swiftly passing her when she stopped, and walked over to Peony. The doors closed behind him.

“Get on your knees,” Bi-Han ordered the girl.

Peony immediately dropped down onto her knees, keeping eye-contact with the Grandmaster through her eyelashes. Iris only stared at the scene unfolding in front of her.

Bi-Han took another step closer to Peony. She would only need to lean in a little and her face would’ve been pressed against his crotch. The Grandmaster fiddled with his pants for a moment before pulling out his flaccid cock.

Peony’s face lit up with excitement, while Iris swallowed a lump forming in her throat.

“Show your Mistress how to properly suck a dick, whore,” Bi-Han smirked at the girl in front of him, completely ignoring Iris.

He grabbed Peony’s hair and yanked her head back. She eagerly parted her lips and stuck out her tongue. Bi-Han started pumping his cock. As it grew harder, he pressed the tip against Peony’s tongue. She did not attempt to lick it or lean forward to take it in her mouth – not that she could even do the latter, with Bi-Han’s iron grip in her hair, holding her in place.

Iris shifted her weight from one foot to another. She could still remember the slightly salty taste of the Grandmaster’s dick from yesterday, and her mouth watered a little. She wondered if she’ll get her turn today.

Bi-Han didn’t give Peony any kind of a warning. As soon as his dick grew to its full size, he thrust his hips forward, the head gliding up Peony’s tongue and ramming into her mouth. Iris watched, wide-eyed, as more than half of Bi-Han’s cock disappeared in Peony’s mouth, without any signs of discomfort on the latter’s part.

He held his hips there, the hand in Peony’s hair keeping her from backing away. Peony’s eyes started watering a little, her cheeks reddening.

Iris bit her lip. Watching them was mesmerizing.

Bi-Han finally pulled Peony off his dick, saliva spilling down her chin. She gasped for air, breathing deeply. He did not let go off her hair.

“Good,” he said cooly.

One word. Barely a praise. Almost spoken like an insult. Iris wished he had said it to her.

“Thank you, Grandmaster,” Peony squeaked, her mouth hanging open again, asking for more.

Bi-Han was quick to oblige. He pushed his dick into Peony’s mouth just as ruthlessly as before, immediately setting a punishing pace. A couple of tears formed in the corner of Peony’s eyes, but not once did she ask him to stop or slow down. The obscene noises coming from her wet mouth made Iris shift in her spot by the door. She could feel her own arousal pooling between her legs.

The Grandmaster didn’t spare Iris a glance, focusing solely on Peony. She was taking him almost to the base of his cock, saliva generously drooling down her chin. He was repeatedly hitting the back of her throat, but she obediently took it all.

“At least you’re not completely useless,” he growled. “Touch yourself.”

Peony didn’t have to be told twice. Her hand immediately moved between her legs and started rubbing quick, tight circles.

Iris desperately wanted to do the same. The tension in her lower stomach was coiling – the itch between her legs demanding attention. However, she remained still, frozen, standing by the door, only an observer.

Bi-Han’s thrusts were growing more erratic by the second. His left hand remained in Peony’s hair through it all, while the other moved to hold her head up by the chin. He grunted deeply.

A wave of arousal hit Iris at the sound of his pleasure.

Bi-Han’s hips stilled; his cock pushed in all the way. Iris could see him closing his eyes for several seconds as he reached his climax, spilling deep into Peony’s throat. Another low grunt escaped his lips as he watched Peony through half-lidded eyes. With his fingers on her chin, he could feel every time she swallowed his essence, drinking everything he had given her.

He pulled out, a string of saliva mixed with his cum connecting him to Peony’s lips. Peony made a show of licking her lips and then opened her mouth, proudly showing him that she had swallowed everything.

“What do you say, whore?” Bi-Han growled.

“Thank you, Grandmaster,” Peony beamed.

Iris felt ashamed of watching another person climax like that, without being involved. She felt ashamed for being aroused out of her mind, probably more than she’d ever been before; ashamed that she was an intruder and that she enjoyed it. But the feeling of shame only furthered her arousal – and that was both shameful and arousing. It was a vicious cycle. She was going mad with desire.

Bi-Han didn’t give Peony any time to rest. He grabbed her by the arm and pulled her onto her feet. Iris’ heart skipped a beat in anticipation.

The Grandmaster brought Peony to the side of the room and bent her over a desk. He pulled up the skirt of her dress and folded it over her back. Peony turned her head back and watched over her shoulder as he gave his girthy cock a few quick pumps. She was biting her lower lip, eyes sparkling in excitement.

Iris’ knees started feeling a bit wobbly. She could not believe what she was seeing. This was a new territory for her as Bi-Han only fucked her mouth yesterday.

Bi-Han grabbed Peony’s hip as he guided his cock to her glistening pussy. He pressed the tip against her swollen lower lips, slowly applying pressure until he sank into her. A long moan spilled from Peony’s lips as he split her walls, growing louder the deeper he reached.

When he was fully sheathed, he paused momentarily. Peony was still watching him over her shoulder, her eyes half closed, lips parted in a decadent expression. With a quick movement, Bi-Han grabbed the back of her head and pushed her down, her cheek now pressed against the desk. Then he lifted one of her legs, showing Iris just how greedily Peony’s pussy was swallowing up his cock.

Peony’s face was hidden by her arm. In that moment, she was just an unnamed girl, an object of pleasure, anyone. In that moment, she could’ve been Iris, pierced by Grandmaster’s thick cock, held in place by his tight grip, made only to give him pleasure in whatever way he desired. Iris squeezed her thighs together, the scene of her in Peony’s place in her mind. Her whole body was burning up. She needed something, she needed him, she needed him so bad.

Similarly to before, Bi-Han started moving with a ruthless pace. He kept Peony’s leg up, his fingers digging into her thigh enough to leave marks, and Iris could see just how deep he was thrusting. Peony was a mewling mess in a matter of seconds. The noises in the room were outright obscene.

Bi-Han kept thrusting at his punishing pace without faltering for what felt like … Iris completely lost track of time. It could’ve been seconds or hours. The scene in front of her was mesmerizing: the muscles in his arms tensing as he kept his grip on Peony’s body; a bead of sweat forming on his temples; another strand of hair falling onto his forehead.

“Your whore is safe,” he groaned, “right, whore handler?”

He looked up and for the first time since entering this room, they’ve locked eyes. Dark. Cold. Scorching. Iris was not ready for the sheer intensity of his gaze. Hunger, desire, authority – consumed her all at once, she was spiralling, she was lost. His devouring gaze almost made her orgasm on the spot.

“She … is,” she heard herself saying.

Did he really give her a choice about where he should finish? Was this a test? What did this answer mean for her?

The perfect rhythm of Bi-Han’s thrusts stuttered. He let go off Peony’s legs and grabbed her hips with both hands instead, holding her close. He gritted his teeth. Iris could not take it anymore.

She hasn’t been given permission to leave yet, but she was willing to risk the Grandmaster’s wrath. Just before the doors closed behind her, she could hear Bi-Han’s deep grunt and she tried not to think about his thick cum filling up Peony’s insides.

Her panties were completely soaked as she practically ran down the hallway, away from the Grandmaster’s chambers. It was going to be a long, lonely night for her.

❀

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[apocalypse-shuffle]

JASON VORHEES (friday the 13th 2009)

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“Pretty Pastels & Marajuana Leaves” (Jason Vorhees x Fem!Reader)

| Walking with Jason as he gathers up (and adds to) all the dead bodies from the last group of victims unlucky enough to encroach on Crystal Lake.

| SFW, depictions of killing and dead bodies, reader is being held captive, post-movie -callous!reader

| Pic Source: Friday The 13th 2009

| 2k+ words

The trees on the campgrounds always seemed oddly unbothered despite whatever blood had fertilized the soil the night prior. It was as if over all the years of bloodshed the nature around it had adapted to derive nutrients from carnage.

Most days it certainly felt like blood hit the ground more so than it rained.

Today the sun was blazing even at eight in the morning, gearing up to be just as cruel and scorching as the revenant that watched over Crystal Lake every second of every hour.

Weeks ago when you and your friends had first set up camp here, so sure the lake’s protector was nothing but a ghost story, you hadn’t known just how much your life would change.

Beside you Jason, nearly blocking out the light from your left, leads the way. He’d only just dragged you around while he did his usual disposal rounds and picked up all the bodies to burn all at once in a massive pit you’d watched him dig; the usual drill.

You hadn’t been with this group of unlucky visitors this time around but you’d met one of them. Clay, looking for the woman you knew Jason had below the cabin; the guy's sister.

You’d give the girl one thing, she’d been trouble and it’d been a miracle when during her escape attempt none of them had stumbled across where Jason usually kept you. A happenstance you still weren’t sure how to feel about.

Regardless, there was certainly no running away for you now. Not only had Jason kept one survivor this time, he’d kept two, and one of them he’s seemingly still hellbent on keeping. In some way at least. You don’t feel particularly positive about Whitney’s chances, and you know after witnessing the rage Jason was thrown into after coming to retrieve you sopping wet and with a fancy new hockey mask later in the day than usual that Clay was even more doomed.

You sigh. The flowers are a nice view at least. They bloomed in grand hues of pastels with a freedom you’d probably never have again amongst the vibrant green grass. The ground is dewy, you’re wearing some victims boots from months ago as you traverse beside your captor, however unconventional of one he was.

Your steps squelch as you come up on a sea of marijuana. Green and thinly clover shaped as they were, you recognized them instantly.

Fun. You think, almost hysterically. Someone must have died for weed.

You smile. Of all the things.

The tall grasses have collected water during the downpour, as Mother Nature did Jason the favor of washing away all his sins, and droplets lightly dampen your pants as the greenery slashes at your legs.

For at least the fifth time since you started your treck Jason bends over in the grass. Behind his bulk you can’t begin to see what he’s doing but so long as he doesn’t make any sudden movements towards you you’re not gonna worry about it.

You hated when he brought you outside more than anything. The sheer malice of the illusion of freedom hurt too much. For as sweetly as he handles you - about as sweetly as you imagine he can at all - none of it could make you forget how brutally he’d slashed his way through your friends. You had zero idea why he’d spared you specifically, whether for amusement or companionship or what but you did know that you were still alive, and that unlike the other woman he’d taken captive he carted you around with him everywhere so long as visitors weren’t around.

The two of you stop outside the boat shack and the lake air sticks as insistently in the back of your throat as the mint leaves Jason makes you chew.

Jason opens the door for you but not before one huge arm swings into your chest. His touch is relatively gentle, you only jolt from it at all because you’d already been walking forward.

It’s a small bouquet of wildflowers that meets your gaze when you look down. You inhale softly.

“U-uh,” you try, voice scratchy from disuse. You clear your throat, “Tha-nks?”

Shaky hands reach up to accept the gift and with the assortment safely clasped in your hold you try speaking again.

“Thank you, Jason.”

The way you speak is nearly a whisper but Jason clearly hears you anyway if the way he vaguely puffs up and nearly carries you into the shack himself is any indication.

After that the route you take to the dugout is familiar; you don’t have to pay much attention to where you’re going. Jason’s steps are sure and heavy bouncing off the walls of the dugout, your own steps not even registering as you follow closely behind him while using the light from his lantern to more closely examine the “bouquet” he’s given you.

Calling it a bouquet at all was incredibly generous but you wouldn’t deny that an attempt had been made to make it look more impressive. A silk ribbon tied into a crude bow holds all of the stems together and some of the flowers weren’t from the field you’d walked through earlier either and the pastel colors of every flower were a stark contrast to the grungy look of the dirt walls around you. For now you’d take the gesture for what it was, but no matter how much you acted like it you were in no way content here, just biding your time.

The closer y’all get to Jason’s other captives the louder the sounds of struggle and vague whimpers get. Something in you should feel bad for them, you know that, but they’d had their shot and squandered the fuck out of it for everyone else involved including you. From what Jason had done his best to convey to you yesterday and the context clues you’d picked up on by yourself Clay and Whitney had drowned and maybe tried to strangle Jason but had stayed around to reminisce or some shit like a bunch of idiots and now here you all were.

Immediately upon seeing Jason Clay starts up a barrage of yelling. None of which Jason truly reacts to. The killer’s irritated, you can tell as much with how jerky his movements have gotten, but that’s about it. Clay’s wasting his breath.

It takes both of them a while to catch sight of you, hidden behind Jason’s back as you are, until he moves to gather up a bunch of rope he’s collected off to the side. It opens you up to the siblings fully and they stare at you confused.

Clay is still huffing angrily from earlier and even as he turns furrowed brows your way it’s Whitney who finds her voice first.

“What, are you helping him?”

Her voice is tinged with disbelief and your hands clench over your flowers.

Despite everything bleak and unsettling about your current predicament you find yourself laughing. It’s short, a little mean even.

“Does he look like he needs my help?”

No immediate retort. Clay’s eyes narrow.

“Wait, I know you,” he says. He shifts, chains rattling, “You were in the woods. You said you were staying in a ‘neighboring cabin’. I asked you about Whitney and you said you’d never seen her.”

As he talks he gets more and more incensed, pulling against his restraints like a madman. Jason remains unbothered by the commotion though so you make a point to not back away from Clay and his thrashing.

“You’re a monster,” Clay finishes. You don’t bother doing anything more than raising an eyebrow. You weren’t any Mother Teresa, you knew that, but even Mother Teresa didn’t live up to the myth of her own virtue so you’d live. You were surviving, if that made you a monster then so be it.

Jason turns back around, sheathed machete pulling off the impossible and managing to glint under the murky lighting, and Whitney turns wet pleading eyes your way.

‘Help us,’ she mouths, and even accompanied with Clay’s smoldering gaze over her shoulder you’re not swayed.

Help them with what plan? Get yourself killed trying to fight a behemoth of a man so they could get away more likely.

You scoff. Please.

When Jason hands you one end of the bundle of rope you don’t hesitate to shift your little bundle of pastels to one hand to grab it with your now free one. He ties clay up easily, brushing off his thrashing like a mom would to a curious baby getting its diaper changed, and throws the man over his shoulder to haul to the surface.

When Whitney pleads aloud at you for a second time to do something while they’re gone you ask her straight up what her plan is and when she comes up mum you shrug plainly.

“Then no,” you murmur, and she spits in your face.

You sigh, wipe the saliva off from where it landed under your chin, delicately stuff the bouquet flower-side up into the front of your overall pocket, and move to grab the two cinder blocks Jason had indicated before leaving.

If Jason was willing to kill her after going out of his way to kidnap her after she’d tried to escape only once - someone who looked nearly the splitting image of his own mother - you weren’t willing to take any chances and get yourself murdered too. Plus, black as you were, you weren’t passing for this man’s mother worth a damn; appealing to his longing for a long dead maternal figure wasn’t an option for you.

Carrying the blocks make your arms ache and the concrete scratches unpleasantly at your skin but when Jason descends to haul Whitney topside after her brother you soldier on quietly.

When Jason situates brother and sister across from one another on the damp ground near the lake you stay just as silent.

When he ties the the blocks to Clay’s bound body and basically presents him to Whitney like a prized pony your lips stay locked, and when he sets him down in front of her - so close they’re breathing the same air - and poises his machete like an executioner’s sword you don’t let the scream rip from your throat no matter how much you want to match Whitney’s mournful pitch and Clay’s desperate incoherent yelling.

The blade slices clean through Whitney’s neck, cutting off her voice with a sick gurgle. Blood spurts like a fountain from her headless body onto Clay’s face and you don’t do anything but stand stiff like you always do, hell bent on not being next, as he sputters and chokes on the endless gush of her lifeblood.

Her blood hasn’t stopped gushing even as her dead body falls forward into her brother. Tied up as he is Clay can’t begin to catch her and he certainly can’t keep his tentative balance himself either and they both go toppling to the ground.

In contrast Whitney’s head has long since rolled closer to your frozen form and you blink rapidly down at the terrified open mouthed expression forever etched onto her face.

The next breath you take feels like breathing through a straw and that lake air sticks down the column of your throat like dew drops.

Clay’s still yelling, but the blood and wet muddy earth lodged up his throat makes them come out more like low grunts and squeals. A pig to be slaughtered.

The desperate sympathetic gasp you let in barely makes a sound and your hands begin to tremble as Jason stomps over with more rope.

You bite back a whimper as he ties brother and sister together, uncaring of Clay’s begging him not to, then drags them off to the lake.

After that Jason drops Clay in with little fanfare. When next he ambles closer to you, flayed head in hand and large sprays of blood and splashes of water soaking his front, and leans over to press a masked facsimile of a kiss to your forehead you don’t make a peep.

Ever silent, you wipe the tears that have soaked the planes of your face away and stumble only slightly as Jason drags you with him to start yet another large bonfire fueled by bones and decomposing flesh.

You didn’t know if in the foreseeable future you’d ever be free, if you’d ever bloom as wildly and as freely as all those pastel pink swamp azaleas in the field or so much marijuana under the shade, but what you did know was that you wouldn’t ever let yourself end up as just another head propped up on that damn mantle in Jason’s cabin.

No matter what.

NOTES: Hope you enjoyed!

Y’all I was supposed to get this out on Friday The 13th, but I fell asleep so now y’all get it on Saturday The 14th🫶🏾. The 2009 Remake is actually one of my favorite horror remakes and my favorite Friday film so it’s a little surprising that it took me this long to post a Jason fic, but whatever, I’m a slow writer anyway.

Also, mind any typos, I’ll get to them later.

btw: if you’d like to leave a comment I’d very much appreciate it! this is a sideblog tho so I won’t respond.

[nerdy-the-artist]

Maytroid 2024 is here!

I am so excited to get to work on these new prompts. Last year, my entries for each day were fairly sloppy, and I was new to the series, so I was lacking a fair bit of information. Now, I’m armed with more knowledge and am eager to use it.

For those who haven’t seen what I did for Maytroid last year, what I’m going to be doing instead of art is something more writing focused. These little text entries are mostly styled after the scans from the Metroid Prime series. Matter of fact, this new set of prompts actually lends itself much better than last year’s, as I have a lot more leeway to play to my own strengths than last year (I still don’t know what the fuck I’m gonna do with Gorea). These are all canon to my own Metroid AU currently, though as things change in development, these may become out of date. They will give the vibe my stories are going for, but these shouldn’t be held to as the absolute canon for them. I’ll be posting these week by week, around 7 at a time, starting today.

Day 1: Ridley

Transcript of Security Footage

Several individuals in this footage cannot be identified at this time. They shall be identified as Pirate 1, Pirate 2, and Pirate Major.

Ridley: What I want to know… is why he is not in custody.

Pirate Major: I gave them their orders, they knew he was to be brought in alive, and instead they killed him.

Pirate 1: You told us to take care of him! We thought you meant an execution, not milk and cookies!

Pirate Major: Insolent Wretch! You say such things about your orders in front of our Commander?! You know how we handle that sort of insubordination!

Pirate 2: Cool it, we’re already in hot water.

Pirate 1: We’re in hot water because of the life of some winy little nobody that begged for his life with money he didn’t even have.

Ridley: While your insolence is… aggravating… I am willing to forgive this misstep.

Pirate Major: What?

Ridley: He was an insignificant pawn. We can always find another. As I was saying, I am willing to forgive this on one condition. Did he die in pain?

Pirate 2: Yes. He did suffer before he died.

Ridley: What methods or torture did you employ?

Pirate 1: Waterboarding. Works wonders on humans. I always liked how they sound when they cough and gasp for air.

Ridley:Mmmmm… was blood shed before his end?

Pirate 2: Yeah. My partner here has… quite the way with knives.

Ridley: Do tell.

Pirate 1: Slashed his wrists. Those arteries gush lots of blood from humans. And we started pulling teeth when he lied.

Ridley: Delicious. You have escaped capital punishment, but you will still be serving as guards for the Metroid containment units. For further forgiveness, you will need to be more creative with your implements. I find Revine’s death, by your account, to be quite dull. Your are dismissed, unless you wish to enlighten me further.

Day 2: Fiery

Scan of Pipe System in Norfair

“These pipes appear be delivering superheated magma into the Norfair region. Given the proximity to Ridley’s personal quarters, likely explanations include terraforming the area for Ridley’s own comfortability, additional protective measures, or the intentional destruction of Chozo artifacts not deemed useful. The latter is most likely, as the immediate area was once a Chozo burial tomb. It is now completely submerged in magma, disintegrating much of the artifacts within.”

Day 3: Winged

Scan of SA-X Mutations

“This X-Parasite copy has suffered some form of destabilization of its copying abilities. Abnormalities include a malformed, beak like structure around the mouth, several atrophied fingers, several hypertrophied fingers, small patches of feathers, and an extraneous structure protruding from its back resembling a Chozo wing bereft of feathers. These unusual deformities could be the result of DNA infusions during childhood complicating the process of anatomical replication within X-Parasite offspring. This individual seems to suffer great stress from its predicament, but it is unsafe to assume that its combat functionality is greatly hampered. Adaptation is this species’s main trait.”

Day 4: Pirate

Scan of Space Pirate Elite

“Subject is a member of an unknown species known only from individuals working within Ridley’s special operations group, The Revenants. This group acts as Ridley’s personal enforcers and assassins, fanatically worshipping their commander as a literal God of Death. They wield melee weapons personalized to their unique fighting styles. Each weapon is charged with electricity, giving them an additional ranged attack capability. They have operated since before the Galactic Federation, making a name for themselves in fighting Chozo warriors. Their endurance, agility, and strength cannot be overstated, in spite of their gaunt appearance.”

Day 5: Mecha

Scan of automaton codenamed Mecha Ridley

“Subject is a battle ready drone, seemingly created by Ridley’s fanatical special forces, the Revenants. Mecha Ridley is heavily weaponized, as there could be no altar to the God of Death without the ability to take a life. Weapons include flamethrowers, guided munition launchers, and superheated claws. Mecha Ridley’s armor is highly durable, but greatly hampers mobility compared to its inspiration. Additionally, as a cult idol of worship, advanced artificial intelligence was not prioritized during production. Mecha Ridley displays average combat intellect for a war drone. Recommend staying moving and outsmarting the automaton.”

Day 6: Fang

Scan of Rundas’s Necklace

“Rundas appears to have begun collecting Metroid Fangs as trophies since last he was approached. Assuming one fang was taken from each Metroid he has eliminated, he has defeated 15 Metroids in the two months since he was last seen. Unfortunately, his ego has grown with his kill count.”

Day 7: Cunning

Scan of Abandoned Home

“Old Bird and Grey Voice’s abandoned home has been left mostly in tact, minus the usual signs of neglect. However, there appear to be a plethora of traps lain around the home. Various grapple snares have been detected, alongside explosive charges, beam emitters, and microphones. Much of these systems appear to be inert, and once reported directly to Mother Brain. It is clear she anticipated you might return here before confronting her. Given her destruction, several trap systems remain completely dormant. Still, any approach must be made with great caution.”

[obsidiancreates]

Out Of The Shadows and Into The Neon (Part 16)

“Hey Dooonald?”

“Yeah, Angelo?”

“Ever notice Mikey is starting to sound a lot like Shelldon?”

“Actually I believe he picked up the ‘sufer/skater bro from the 80’s’ lingo from Jupiter Jim XXIV: The Rad-tastatic Wave Through The Time Tunnel’.”

“I meant his actual voice.”

“Oh. Are we finally acknowledging that?”

“So you also noticed it!”

“Yes, yes, I’ve been tracking it, as you see on this chart.”

“Wooooow. So, why’s that happening?”

“The short answer, I don’t know. The slightly longer answer, I do not know.”

“Maybe it’s just a fun coincidence that our boys sound so alike!”

“... Yeah, I’ll settle for that, it’s not the first time someone’s sounded strangely similar to someone else.”

“Uhhhhh what are you two talking about?” Leon leans in the doorway, frowning in confusion at his brothers.

“Just about Mikey sounding a lot like Shelldon!” Angelo says brightly.

“Pffff, they don’t sound that alike.” Leon waves his hand dismissively. “Way more important, are you guys ready for Ultimate Uncles Day?”

“Are we sure we aren’t doing this too close to Vacay Day?” Donald leans his arm on the back of his chair and rolls away from his work desk. “It’s only been a week. That’s a lot of family bonding in a short time.”

“It’s perfect!” Angelo springs up, pulling a calendar down from Donnie’s little section of the lab (the kid has always gravitated towards Paper more than Digital with certain informational storage, and Donald has learned it’s best not to force otherwise– comfort zones are comfort zones, after all). “We can make this kind of thing a weekly tradition! That’ll give us all fresh eyes on any ways we’re coming up short as fathers by being judgemental as uncles!”

Leon frowns. “... Okay… reminding me a little of the whole Unicorn Competition disaster there, bud…”

Angelo flops a hand down. “This is waaay different, Leon! I’m not competing, I’m saying we can balance each other’s strengths and weakness, like in a fight!”

“Still sounding weirdly violent.”

“That’s a you problem,” Donald says matter-of-factly, standing up and stretching. “And to answer your previous question, yes, we are ready.”

“I got all-new spray paints for today, baby!” Angel whips out two of them to show off. “Raph’s gonna have a great time with the place I picked out! It’s an old skatepark that a community program just got all fixed up, and the one big thing people wished could’ve been kept was the graffiti!”

“Wooow! Now that, is convenient!” Leon nods, impressed.

“And I have gotten Leo and I tickets to not only attend the observatory, but test out their new Interactive Space Travel Experience! A-HA-HA-HA!”

“Niiice! But check… a-this out.” Leon proudly presents.. a receipt. One of Donald’s robotic arms snatches it and he and Angelo read it so closely they’re basically sniffing the words.

“You rented out the whole stadium?!” Angelo looks up at Leon with sparkling eyes as Leon smirks.

“Is that why my safe had pizza sauce on the handle?” Donald narrows his eyes at Leon, who breaks out into a sweat.

“Uhh… nope, that was definitely Mikey trying to get into it.”

“Oh, you did not just frame my son in front of my face!”

“AH! I mean- Raph, did it?”

“Raph did what?” Raphie peeks his head into the doorway. “Leon! Are you accusin’ our boys of somethin’ you did? ON ULTIMATE UNCLES DAY?!”

“Oh, gee, is that the time, Mikey’s probably bored out his mind waiting gotta get going already byeeeee!” Leon slashes open a portal and gets away just as his brothers all jump for a tackle. They scream as instead of landing on Leon they all crash into each other, landing in a heap on the floor.

“Note to self,” Donald groans, rubbing his head. “Install update to Anti-Leon Safe Security Measures.”

“That’s what was happening?” Raphie sits up. “So he got that ten bucks he’d owed me from you?”

“He- ARHG!”

“Well before that–” Angelo stands up and dusts himself off, “– we were comparing Uncles Day plans!”

“Oh, I got the best plans!” Raphie pulls out two tickets. “They’re doin’ a Ametuer Feature Event at the wrestling arena today! It’s got a whole bunch of up-and-comers! There’s even an event where the kids in the audience can have some matches of their own between shows!”

“Oooooh. That is the best one!” Angelo throws up his arms in praise as Donald’s face melts in a jealous bitterness.

“Ha-ha! I know.” Raphie tucks the tickets away again. “Alright, Mad Dogz! … Minus Leon. Let’s get our Uncling on!”

—---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“So, we can just paint whatever we want?” Raph asks as he and Angelo walk to the gate around the park. “Like, anything?”

“Whatever your imagination cooks up!”

“... Can I paint a big cuss word?”

“Wha- you know cuss words?!”

“... No.”

Angelo narrows his eyes for a moment, then laughs and rubs the top of Raph’s head the way one would ruffle the hair on a human child. “Let’s skip the cuss words and keep to the art, okay?”

“Aw… alright.”

They get to the fence and Angelo uses his powers to lift the bag of their many cans of paint over the top. “Alright, lil’ man, need a boo-?”

Raph jumps at the fence and scales it easily, landing on the other side with a grunt and turning back around with a proud look on his face. Angelo grins back. 

“That was great!” Angelo gets over the fence with one jump.

“I’ve got the ���breaking in’ part of ninja-ing down!” Raph cheers.

Angelo laughs lightly. “Except the ‘keepin’ it secret’ part, kid!”

“Oh. Right.” Raph grabs the bag and, with a great deal of effort (and some subtle unknown weight-supporting mystic help), hoists it onto his back and sets off for the middle of the skatepark.

They get down into the center and Raph plops the bag down, the top falling open to reveal the huge assortment of paint colors, paint finishes, and two sets of gas masks and goggles. They pop the protective gear on and look around.

“I’m gonna start on that ramp,” Raph declares, pointing. “I’m gonna paint… a van! A turtle van!”

“Aw, yeah, baby! Keepin’ it on brand!” Angelo points at the half-pipe next to Raph’s chosen spot. “I’ll be right there if you need me, I’m gonna do some word-art!”

They both grab some cans and get to work. Angelo flows with the feeling, letting the shapes and colors of the letters take him on a journey as the work blossoms, bigger and bigger, details filling in themselves as inspiration flows through him the same way his powers do. He remembers standing on Raphie’s shoulders when they were kids, painting the walls of their childhood lair while Donald and Leon chased each other and Splints’s snores echoed around the huge main room.

That lair would’ve been nice to raise the boys in. It was a little less cramped- but also more sewer, so maybe the tradeoff wasn’t so bad after all. Still, it would’ve been nice to have the indoor ramp for the boys to skateboard on, and the better lighting, and bigger space for the Lair Ga-

Lair games! Oh, man, they haven’t had a Lair Games since before the boys were brought home! The last time they held one was–

… Before Shredder, and The… Aliens.

… How long has he been out of paint in this can? Angelo shakes his head and turns around to grab a new can, trying to ignore the pang of loss in his chest. It was so long ago– why does it still hurt so bad sometimes?

He blinks as Raph suddenly snatches up the can Angelo had been reaching for and dashes away with it again. He chuckles a little, feeling some of that tightness around his heart loosen, and looks up. His eyes widen. “WHOA, LIL’ MAN!”

He’s fairly certain Raph hasn’t used Spray paint as a medium before, but he seems to have figured it out quickly. The van is very impressive, especially for the work of a 3--foot-tall 10 year old. It’s an old volkswagen-style body, with huge monster-truck-esque back tires and smaller, normal tires on the front. It’s a side-view of the vehicle, showing off some kind of dark red armored siding in place of a back sliding door. The top of the van has a turtleshell pattern to finish off the look. Raph climbs up to the top of the ramp and hangs off the side, then shimmies until he slides partway down and plants his feet against the concrete side when he reaches the height he wants to be at. Holding on with one hand he leans closer to his artwork and adds two fin-type decorations to the back of the top of the van.

Angelo gapes at the sight, impressed and astonished. He shakes his head again and walks over. “You want me to hold you up instead?”

“I’ve got it.” Raph looks at his uncle. “Cool, right? Donnie drew it for our comic, before everything got… bad.”

“It is sweet, baby!” Angelo puts his hands on his hips. “I should talk to Donald about makin’ something like this!”

“But you guys have a tank!” Raph slides the rest of the way down the ramp. 

“The tank is for fights, Raph. Vans are for things like family road trips! Going to the park! Mall hauls!”

“Not this one.” Raph crosses his arms and looks at it with a violent sparkle in his eye. “It’s armored and it’s got all kinds of weapons in it!”

Angelo looks over at his piece, unfinished on the half-pipe. The last few letters are done with a shakier hand, messier mind, messier lines– he doesn’t feel like continuing it anymore.

So he uses his powers to float the whole pile of paints over to him and Raph. “How about I help you with adding all those weapons?”

Raph grins. “There’s a million of ‘em! Let’s start with the deer head that shoots fire!”

“The what?! That is genius!”

—---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Uh, Uncle Leon?” Mikey whispers as he clings to Leon’s neck. “I think we’re early, this place is totally empty.”

“Surprise!” Leon grins and slices open a portal to the light switches, flipping them on and pulling his hand back out to throw out in grand presentation. “I rented the whole place out just for us!”

Mikey’s grip tightens, and Leon chokes for a second before Mikey lets go and springs off, pushing his hands against Leon’s head to use as a springboard and effectively toppling his uncle to the ground. His eyes shine as he looks around the stadium. “So we can jump around the whole place?!”

Leo sits up, rubbing his throat and grinning. “Oh yeah! If you wanna do a double front flip off the first row of seats, you can!”

“I TOTALLY DO!” Mikey runs up into the stands and does just that, landing for only a second before springing into a backflip to push off the stand wall and launch himself up again, flipping and flinging through the air and laughing gleefully the whole time.

“Whoa, who needs a basketball when we’ve got you?” Leon laughs. 

Mikey lands and gasps. “You’re right! I’m even the same color, yo! I am the basketball!”

“Guess I should set this guy up in the audience then.” Leon pulls the old, faded, worn basketball out from a small portal. “Maybe I’ll bring Lace-Face in, they can be our mascots.”

“No, no wait!” Mikey zips over, sliding up on his knees and clasping his hands. “Please let us play normal basketball first! Pleeease!”

“Well…” Leon pretends to be deep in thought about it, tapping his chin.

“If I’m the ball I can’t play! And if I can’t play I can’t prove I’m the awesomest basketball player ever!”

“Oh! So this whole thing is a chance to steal ol’ Uncle Leon’s title, huh?” Leon smirks as Mikey’s eyes go wide with realization.

“Uh…”

“How about this? If you win–” A guarantee, this is Mikey’s Day after all, “– I make you a crown officially declaring you The King of Turtle B-Ball. If I win, youuuuu uhh… draw me as a superhero and you as my sidekick!”

Mikey jumps up. “Deal!”

He and Leon head to the center of the stadium. Leon clears his throat and lifts the ball up. “Alright, you know the rules and so do I.”

Mikey, instead of answering, just vibrates with barely-contained competitive and excitable energy.

“And… a-let’s go!” Leon tosses the ball up to start the game. As soon as it lands and begins to bounce up again Mikey starts dribbling it over to Leon’s hoop, his disproportionately large hands giving him a grand advantage in keep the ball from slipping away from him. Leon gives chase, and Mikey gives the ball an extra-forceful slam to send it high into the air! He jumps up with it and slaps it back down at an angle, sending it a good deal ahead of both of them!

Leon stays running at a speed matching his nephew, trying to keep a balance of trying hard enough for Mikey to have fun but not so much that Leon will absolutely win without contest. He’s seven feet tall, has superpowers, and is a ninja master– his nephew is just under three feet, no superpowers, and only has five years of semi-casual training under his little leather belt. The game couldn’t be less fair.

He catches up to the ball first and starts dribbling, turning and making his way to Mikey’s basket. His nephew gasps like he’s been unexpectedly betrayed, and then leaps into the air again. “COWABUNGAAAAAAAA!”

Leon realizes what’s about to happen and scrambles to keep the ball but still move out of the way. “WAIT WAIT WAIT-!”

Mikey does not wait. How can he, when he’s already plummeting back down at his uncle– and popping his head and limbs into his shell for the impact.

Leon ‘Oofs!’ as Mikey slams into him! It’s far from the worst hit Leon’s ever taken, but it’s enough to rattle his brain a little as he’s sent heels-over-head upside-down and Mikey pops back out of his shell to steal the ball back his way. Leon lands in a crumple and blows his mask tail out of his face. “Referee?” he mumbles, dazed for a second, before he sits back up and whistles with his own two fingers.

Mikey freezes just as he’s about to take the shot.

“How about no trying to turn your uncle into one giant concussion while we play for the rest of the day?” Leon calls out.

“I was just doin’ what it takes to win, yo! In the old home movies you totally do and say the same thing!”

“Oy… Okay, can’t argue there.” Leon shrugs. “But… I was being stupid and learned a valuable lesson many years after those were filmed?”

“Pssssh, you were the Lair Games champ! You don’t hold back on anybody, so I’m not gonna hold back either!”

“Oh-ho, you think I wasn’t holding back?”

“Nope!” Mikey grins and spins the ball on his finger. “Old people just get slower in sports! It’s like, science!”

“Old?!”

Mikey blinks at Leon innocently. Leon puts his hands on his hips, and shrugs.

“Alright, mi sobrino. You wanna go all-out? Prepare to face the undisputed champ!”

“AND YOU PREPARE TO FACE– uh, um– DR. SPORTSINSTEIN!” Mikey dribbles the ball, rolls it across his shoulders, and then puts it down and balances on one foot on top of it before kicking it back up to spin on his finger. “HA!”

“Okay, you’re totally showing me how you learned that after this, because there’s no-way it was from any of my bros. And… GAME ON!”

Leon zips at Mikey as quick as he would in a fight, and his nephew yelps in surprise as Leon easily snatches the ball away and not only makes it to the basket, but slam-dunks the ball through in seconds.

The scoreboard above thoonks as the numbers change, 01-00. 

“Whoa…” Mikey isn’t even upset– just amazed. He has stars in his eyes as he stares in awe.

“And that is why my only Lair Games loss wasn’t even a loss.” Leon buffs his nails against his shell. Mikey is still quiet, though, so Leon’s smirk fades as he remembers this is Mikey’s Day. “Hey, I didn’t mean to–”

“THAT WAS SO AWESOME!” Mikey jumps in place, flapping his hands. “THIS IS GONNA BE SO MUCH COOLER THAN I THOUGHT!”

“You- huh?”

“I’M GONNA BEAT THE CHAMP!” Mikey runs forward, goes into a  front handspring, and basically tackles the ball to get it away from Leon. “YOU MAY BE BIGGER AND FASTER, DAWG, BUT I’VE GOT THE DR. SPORTENSTEIN SPIRIT!”

Leon laughs. All-out it is then!

[tala-bez-i]

At first sight Chapter Nine

(m!reader x Bonten!Haruchiyo Sanzu)

Fluff/slash/reader is male/cursing/BontenTimeline/drugs and alcohol mentioned/violence/blood/death

All characters that appeared in the Tokyo Revengers manga and anime belong to Ken Wakui.

Words: 3318

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It had been raining for a good two hours now, making you feel more and more sleepy. You wanted to talk to Takeomi today and ask Rosie a few questions, but a small voice in your head was whispering to you to give up for today, that it was time to go to sleep. 

You stood up from behind your desk and left your bedroom, heading towards the gang advisor's office. You liked talking to a man 10 years older than you, even though Sanzu told you many times not to get involved with him. You knew the difficult relationship between them, and you didn't want to let it go. Sanzu could give you various orders, but you were as stubborn as he was, and you had no intention of following this particular one. 

You often had the impression that the pink-haired man knew this very well and, despite his frustration, accepted it. Or at least it seemed that way for now... 

You stopped for a moment outside Takeomi's office door and listened. If Rosie was inside, you didn't want to catch them doing anything. You heard that one time Ran walked in and found Akashi up to his balls in the whore. You didn't mind this type of situations with Haru, but you preferred not to see his older brother in a similar situation. Especially if it was about Rosie. 

You didn't hear any suspicious-sounding activity, so you knocked on the door. You immediately heard a man's voice telling you to get inside. You opened the door and the first thing you noticed was the strong smell of cigarettes. The guy smoked them as if he was in a hurry to get to the next world. 

“Ah, it's you Y/n. Come in, come in.” Takeomi gestured to you. His fingers were decorated with rings and signet rings, brazenly showing that he was not a poor man. “Sit down, please.” 

You sat down in the chair in front of his elegant desk and Takeomi placed a new cigarette in his mouth, lighting it from the still glowing butt. “Nasty weather, isn't it?” 

"May be. I like rain.” You replied calmly and the man laughed, blowing smoke from his mouth. 

“You haven't visited me in a long time. Sanzu must have kept you on a tight leash, hmm?” 

“You could put it that way.” 

“Any progress on the case?” He looked at you with interest. 

“Yes, you could say that. I know Kisaki forwarded this case to me, but recently it turned out that it was just the part that Kakucho handled.” 

“Oh... Yeah. I know that." He shrugged. “If it moved on, it was a good idea.” 

You looked at him in silence for a moment and the man smiled again before taking a long drag on his cigarette. “I understand you brought Kakucho back into the case, correct?” 

“Yes, yes, it's true.” You nodded, slightly confused. “I also started working with Mochi. He had the rest of the reports and came up with some leads as well.” 

"Very good. I didn’t expect anything less from you, Y/n.” He made a note on his calendar, the smile still on his face. 

“We have a boy here who works for Akira. He revealed a lot of information to us.” You added and Takeomi froze, his smile shrinking. 

He looked up and blinked several times. "What?" 

“I said we have a boy here from…” 

“Wait, what was his name?...Yata?” The man interrupted you and put a cigarette in his mouth before scratching his face near the large scar and shrugging slightly. “I guess that's good... As long as Akira doesn't look for him....” 

“Akira knows I took him.” 

"What? Have you talked to Akira?” Akashi was surprised. 

“No. He must have been watching us from the window of his building. He saw Yata get into my car and after a while we drove away. He recognized me and contacted Sanzu..." 

“Haruchiyo? Why would he contact him?” Takeomi frowned and reached for a pack of cigarettes that was lying on the desk. It turned out to be empty, so he crumpled it up and threw it in the trash. 

“I think everyone knows I follow him around like a dog.” You shrugged, watching the older man rummage through his desk drawers for a new pack of cigarettes. 

He cursed quietly as he got up from the chair and went to the hanger where his coat was and took out cigarettes from one of the pockets, then returned to his seat. 

“Okay. I see." He put out the cigarette but didn't take out another one. “So, when will you release him? Are you going to kill him?” 

“We won't give him back to that son of a bitch. Yata goes to Madarame.” You said, watching the man's strong hands. He kept them on the desk, but with each small movement one of his hands came closer to the pack of cigarettes. 

"That's good. I always thought the young man came to the wrong place.” He sighed and looked at you with a serious face. "So? You didn't come to me just to give me this information. Do you have any questions?” 

“It's basically one thing.” I have a few... What are your plans for Rosie? “Do you know Nagano?” 

“Ah, Hideki Nagano... Yes, I know him.” He said, grabbed a pack of cigarettes and pulled out a cigarette, but didn't put it in his mouth. You were sure it wouldn't be 5 seconds before he inhaled the smoke again. Terrible addiction. “Mochi mentioned him and another one, Jin Nagasawa.” He laughed darkly and lit the lighter. “Three top pimps scheming in the backroom of Bonten.” 

You stared for a moment at the blue ribbon flying from the glowing end of the cigarette. "Unfortunately. I need to find one man who works with him. Yata said it would be worth trying to talk to him.” 

"Yes? Who is this about?" 

“Do you know anyone called Yuu?” 

“Yuu?” Takeomi repeated and leaned back in his chair. “Yuu… Working for Nagano… Hmm…” He took a drag on his cigarette and exhaled slowly, thinking. "I think so. I'm not 100% sure, but I have a feeling that this Yuu... is Uchiyama. I can't remember the name." 

Uchiyama... You've heard this name somewhere before... 

“Try talking to Rosie.” Said the advisor and smiled. “The pretty girl has worked for more than one pimp, maybe she will know something more. The girls trust her.” 

The corner of your mouth involuntarily turned up and you nodded. “That was my intention, but I wanted to ask you first.” 

“Oh? For what reason?" 

“Because of the girls you used to sleep with.” You shrugged slightly. “Everyone knows you preferred them from Nagano.” 

The man laughed loudly and sincerely. "True, true. Oh, Y/n…” He shook his head, amused. “How are things going with my wonderful brother? Do you work well together?” 

You weren't expecting this question now, even though it came from Takeomi four times a year. You bit the inside of your cheek lightly and shrugged again. 

"It's good..." 

"Really?" 

"Yes. We cooperate, freak out and watch each other's backs... The latter can be considered suspended for now.” Takeomi took another drag and looked intently into your eyes as he exhaled. The last time he looked at you in such a piercing way was many years ago. That was the first time he saw you with his little brother. 

“Y/n... You're fine but be careful what you do or say. You know how Haru is.” He said quietly and you nodded. 

"Mikey is as important to me as he is to Sanzu... I will not betray him..." 

“Mikey is like a king to Sanzu. You are like a dog.” He interrupted you while you were speaking. “For him, our leader comes first and always will. Remember this and respect it and it won't hurt anyone. And you will live.” 

You looked at the man in silence, taking his statement apart. He was right, although deep down you hoped that over time you would become as important to the pink-haired man as he was to you. You knew you couldn't handle being rejected again. Someone will die then, and even if it were you, you would take as many as you could with you. Just for others to have their hearts broken too... 

“Hey, Y/n…” Takeomi's voice was softer this time. “Haruchiyo is more stubborn than a donkey and I regret the way I used to treat him. I know he'd jump at my throat the next chance he got, but Mikey still listens to my advice... Or at least some of it. He could use some tenderness. Let him see you as a human being, not a dog, as many call you here.” 

"I do not mind. I'd rather be called a dog than a wild horse." You said calmly and Takeomi chuckled to himself. 

“You're tired, Y/n. It's time for you. Wash, bead and go to bed. You can go." He waved you off and there was nothing left for you to do but get up and go back to your bedroom. 

“Have a peaceful evening, Takeomi.” You looked at him, stopping in the doorway. He was lighting another cigarette. 

"You also." He nodded and made another note on his calendar. 

You closed the door behind you and walked down the hall. Somewhere in the distance you heard thunder, and the rain became heavier by the second, hitting the windows with redoubled force. Perfect sleeping weather. 

As you passed by the stairs, you saw Ran and Rindou brushing off the raindrops from their jackets and trousers. 

“You've gotten a bit carried away.” You greeted them and Ran smiled at you. 

“We had to ask around in several places, but we managed to get some information.” 

You put your hands in your pockets and looked around... 

“Sanzu rushed towards the bedroom first. Didn't you hear him swearing on the way?" Said the older brother. 

“No…” You were surprised and winced slightly. “Did he get very wet?” 

Ran laughed, running his fingers through his damp hair. “Rindou pushed him under a leaky gutter.” 

Rindou smirked and took off his jacket, which he slung over his shoulder. "The pleasure is all mine. Good luck, Y/n.” 

They walked past you and towards their bedrooms, and Ran wished you good night in an amused tone. 

“Shit, not that again…” You muttered and continued towards your room. 

The closer you were to your goal, the more clearly you heard the curses coming from the pink-haired man's mouth. He didn't go to his bedroom, but to yours. 

You went inside and looked around. One of the nightstands next to the bed was open and there was a mess on the desk that you were sure you hadn't made. Someone was looking for something in it. 

You sighed, closed the door and headed towards the bathroom. 

“Haruchiyo?” You called out quietly, looking inside. 

There were several towels thrown from the cabinet on the floor, and a completely soaked man was leaning against the sink. His hair was a complete mess and stuck to his face and neck. He held an open pill bottle in one hand. 

“Haru?” You went inside but didn't come any closer. 

This time he responded to the name you said and lifted his head to look at you from the mirror. He was angry, very angry. You stood in silence, waiting for him to speak. 

“I'll kill them one day.” He said, trying to make his voice sound happier, but he was shaking too much. 

“I heard about that stupid joke…” You looked down and noticed that Sanzu was standing on the bare tiles, completely barefoot. “You'll catch a cold. At least stand on the rug.” 

"I do not care." He growled and poured three pills into his hand, which he immediately swallowed without any problems. “Stupid fucking joke. Funny as hell.” 

You hesitated for a split second, but went into the bathroom and grabbed one of the towels that were left from the cabinet. “I'll run you a bath…” 

“Am I not wet enough?” He asked you coldly, turning to face you. 

You gave him a quick glance and placed a towel on a low stool before running hot water into the tub. “Lavender or rose?” 

Sanzu stood silently for a moment, throwing daggers from his eyes at you, but after a while he sighed and began to unbutton his shirt. “Lavender, please.” His voice was quiet, but still filled with anger. 

You poured some oil into the water and made foam as usual. You stood up and walked past the half-naked man out of the bathroom. “I'll get you some clean underwear.” 

When you entered the bathroom again, Sanzu was already sitting in the tub, the water running for a while before turning it off. He leaned back against the edge of the bathtub and let out a long sigh. 

“They're going to finish me off one day.” He said quietly, looking up. 

You sat down next to the tub and leaned on your hand, just like Rosie did the night before. 

“You know what they are like. They have to tease someone every once in a while.” 

“And that someone always has to be me, hmm?” Sanzu muttered, looking at you. 

How much did you took today? 

“I'm sorry I couldn't be there for you.” You said quietly and the man shook his head. 

"You have nothing to apologize for. I should have known better, I let my guard down.” He reached for a sponge and started washing himself. You watched his movements for a moment, admiring how his muscles worked under his fair skin. Suddenly he turned his head towards you and his hands stopped moving. “Why are you watching me like that, huh?” 

“Because I like looking at you.” You said honestly and brushed the wet hair from his forehead. “It calms me down.” 

“You're crazy.” He mumbled and resumed the washing process. “And perverted.” 

“I'm not crazier than you... And you're the one who often parades around naked in front of me, so who's perverted here?” 

“I can walk around with my ass bare whenever I want, wherever I want, and you don't have to stare.” 

“It's not my fault it's something to look at.” You shrugged and Sanzu splashed water on you. He looked at you defiantly, so you stood up and, placing your hands on his bare shoulders, pushed him under the water. 

You released him almost immediately and Haru quickly sat back down, sputtering water. “You really... *cough* are going to get beat today! *cough* I'll kick your ass! You'll see, L/n!” 

You grabbed the shampoo bottle and poured little bit into your hand before starting to wash the angry man's hair. 

"Anything you want." You said calmly, gently rubbing his scalp. 

Sanzu grumbled something else under his breath, but you couldn't understand his words. You left the lather on his head and started massaging his neck and shoulders, which made Sanzu go silent and start to relax again. 

"You are horrible." He hummed softly and you picked up the shower head. 

"Close your eyes." He obeyed you and you rinsed the shampoo from his hair. You applied some more conditioner and after a while you started drying his hair with a towel. 

Sanzu's eyelids fluttered open and his dilated pupils immediately found yours. The drugs didn't seem to have stimulated him as much as usual, so apparently whatever he had hidden in your bathroom cabinet was having a calming effect. He was tired, very tired. 

“Can you get out of the bathtub?” You asked quietly and the pink-haired man snorted. 

"Of course I can. Who do you think I am, Y/n?” He stood up and carefully left the bathtub. 

You handed him a new towel and he started drying himself with it. When he finished, he put on clean underwear and poked you in the chest with his finger. “Tonight I'm sleeping at your place. Stick to your side of the bed.” 

“The whole bed is my side.” You said a little louder and he answered you from the bedroom. 

"Not today." 

You laughed to yourself and started cleaning up the mess the pink-haired man had made. You pulled his keys and wallet out of his soaked pants and placed them on the counter of the locker. 

You drained the bathtub and took a quick shower after undressing. 

Dressed in pajama pants and ready for bed, you turned off the bathroom light and returned to the bedroom. Sanzu was already lying under the sheets and yawning. 

“Lock the door.” He said quietly and despite your surprise, you followed his instructions. You bypassed the bed and drew the curtains on the window, making the room dark, and the only source of light was the night lamp on the unoccupied side of the bed. 

You slid under the sheets and looked up at the ceiling. This wasn't the first time you'd laid in bed next to Sanzu... But until now, the conditions were a little different. Usually, he was high and laced with alcohol, and you were almost completely drunk. But this time... 

“How did you do today?” The man asked quietly. 

“I brought Kakucho back into this case and started working with Mochi.” 

"Seriously?" Sanzu lifted his head from the pillow to get a better look at you. 

"Yes. I think we're on the right track. We already have three suspects. Including one… let's say confirmed.” 

“Akira?” He asked, turning on his side and propping himself up on his hand. 

You looked at him and nodded. “Akira.” 

“Son of a bitch.” He muttered. “Almost nothing has moved for us.” 

“So let me tell you something…” Sanzu turned his bright eyes on you. “Akira and Sato are connected. That bitch from the club… Akira sold her to Sato.” 

Haruchiyo blinked a few times, perking up slightly. “You're talking nonsense, aren't you?” 

"Nope. That's what Yata said. You know, the young one I brought here.” 

“Do you trust him?” 

“Kakucho and Mochi trust him.” You said and Sanzu nodded slightly. 

“I will tell it to Ran and Rindou tomorrow.” He sighed and changed his position again, resting his head on the pillow. 

There was silence for a while, so you turned off the lamp and closed your eyes, thinking that Sanzu had quickly fallen asleep. Sometimes it happened to him when he was on drugs. 

“Y/n?” 

“Yes, Haru?” 

“How the fuck is it possible that your bed is more comfortable than mine?” 

“Because I don't bring whores to mine as often as you do to yours.” You replied without thinking and the pink-haired man elbowed you in the ribs, knocking the air out of your lungs. “Fuck…” 

“Mean bastard.” He grunted in annoyance, and you laughed softly. “And what are you laughing at, you idiot?” 

"I love you." You said quietly and closed your eyes again. “Good night, Haru.” 

He didn't answer you, but he moved, changing his position once again, and soon his longer hair tickled your chest and something warm and soft was pressed lightly to your lips. He kissed you... 

Sanzu started to pull away, but you grabbed his neck and pulled him back to kiss him again. You could clearly hear a loud heartbeat and you weren't sure if it was yours or his. After a while, you let him pull away and lie down. 

"Mean." He mumbled and turned his back to you, pulling the sheets almost to the top of his head. "Good night." 

"Good night." Your voice was quiet, and you listened to his breathing, which mixed with the sounds of the rain that had calmed down. After a few minutes, you noticed that Sanzu had already fallen asleep... You closed your eyes and let sleep take over you too. 

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