#they really nailed making me feel that the stakes are sky-high

[rubys-domain]

holy jesus christ...

fontaine's act 4 is by far the most stressful act of any archon quest ever

[snippy-tano]

Hi there! I absolutely adore your writing it makes me smile everytime you post something new and brightens my day... that being said I'm going through a tough time rn and was just asking if you could write something comforting with any clone really ( I literally love them all 😅).

Wow it’s been a while since I’ve posted. I’ve been crazy busy and time kinda got away from me. I’ve still been writing, just other things. But for some reason, I just decided to revisit some of these asks and then this happened. I’m not sure where it came from, maybe I just needed to hear something like this and it all just came out. I’m not sure why I picked Fives either, he just seemed like the only choice for this. I hope that’s alright.

Either way, I hope you enjoy this anon! I hope this helps makes things easier and makes you smile. Things will get better. It may not be right away, but they will. I believe they will. :))

((there wasn’t a specific song I had in mind when I was writing this, but after the fact this song came on shuffle and I think it was meant to be. I’ve linked it here, but it doesn’t have to played while reading. I just think it fits and it’s where the name of the one-shot comes from. Just make sure you turn on subtitles if you want to know the lyrics :) ))

Masterlist is here.

Taglist is here.

Tagging: @pro-fangirls-unsocial-life @marvel-starwars-nerd @mackstrut @dissapointingpancake @ahsokatano-thetogruta @welcometothepedroverse @lightning-wolffe @fractiouskat @mandaloriandin @lussyyung @lowkeyodinsong @Str-wrs-fics @bantha-shit @badbatch-simp24 @katelynnwrites @s1st3r @leotatombs @torchbearerkyle @rain-on-kamino @the-navistar-carol @bombshe77 @lucyysthings 

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Lonely St.

For the first time in almost 12 hours, you stepped out of the makeshift med tent. 

Every breath you took felt like a monumental effort and your very bones ached. Your hands trembled slightly as you rested your hands on your hips. You let your eyes fall shut and your face tip up to the dark sky. 

You took a shuddering breath, feeling yourself sway slightly. You forced your eyes open as you glanced around. Most of the camp was quiet, save for the tent behind you. 

The sight of your stained hands drew your attention downward. Your stomach turned as you looked away. Your feet followed suit and soon you were stumbling towards the nearby showers. Your boots sunk into the mud with every step, making your legs ache with every step. 

You finally stumbled into the empty showers and turned on the water, picking up a small dry rag and scrubbing violently at your hands. You sniffled as you used more force than was probably necessary, trying to rid yourself of the physical reminder of your terrible shift. 

After what felt like hours of scrubbing, you stopped, seeing the skin of your hands and arms had been rubbed raw. The water turned off and you brushed a hand under your eyes. You shook out your hands and ringed out the damp rag. With another sniffle, you turned and headed for the medic barracks. 

You didn’t pass many others on your way, after all, it was the middle of the night. Your fellow medics had practically kicked you out of the tent, despite your protests. Even though you were beyond exhausted, you weren’t sure if you’d be able to sleep and would much rather be productive. But you’d been kicked out, probably rightfully so. 

The walk was a long one, but the quiet was nice. After spending hours in a high stakes situation, the silence was almost deafening. 

Your eyes began to burn and you quickly bit down hard on your lip. 

No. You were not going to cry. 

Not here.

Not now.

Your nails dug into your palms, causing you to wince slightly. You couldn’t reach your bunk fast enough. All you wanted to be was alone.

But the sound of your name from to your left halted everything. 

You instinctively turn, surprise evident on your face as you face the equally surprised Fives. 

He looked just as tired as you were, dirt covering his armor and face. Even though it was late, you could clearly see the deep circles under his eyes. 

“What are you still doing up?” He asked quietly, taking a step closer. 

“Uh- I uh-“

You thought hard, eyes squinting as you tried to remember what you were doing. 

Fives called your name again and you swallowed thickly. “I just got off, so I’m uh, heading to my bunk to get an hour or so of sleep before I go back.”

Fives sighed. “You need more sleep than that.” 

Your jaw clenched painfully. “I'm fine. You should rest. I’ll see you at breakfast.”

“Woah hey.” Fives said, reaching for you as you tensed. “You okay?”

It took you far too long to spit out a yes and he noticed. 

The ARC trooper sighed again before wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “Come on. I’ll walk you.”

You tried to push him off, but after such a long day your effort didn’t have any effect. Eventually you gave up and let Fives steer you towards the makeshift medic barracks. 

He held the flap of the tent open for you and you ducked inside quickly, noting that it was mostly empty. You headed immediately for your bunk in the back corner and dug out your small bag from underneath. When you looked up, Fives was nowhere to be seen.

You tried not to be disappointed. 

Without letting yourself think about it too much, you quickly changed out of your soiled uniform and pulled on something clean and more suitable for sleeping. It wasn’t warm enough, not by a long shot, but it was better than nothing. 

You were just hanging up your uniform when you saw movement out of the corner of your eye. You looked up to see Fives had returned. 

He moved quietly, careful not to disturb anyone else. As he got closer, you could see he had washed the dirt off his face and was carrying a small bundle of fabric in his hands. You watched with narrowed eyes as he stopped beside you, bending down to whisper quietly in your ear. 

“Climb in, I’ll be right there.”

Your heart thudded loudly in your chest. “Wha-“

“Hurry up. It’s kriffing cold.” 

A shiver wracked your body and you were moving before you could protest further, crawling under the flimsy blanket in your bunk. You pulled the covers close under your chin and glanced over at Fives as he quickly took off his armor, without making much of a sound. 

The light was minimal, but the light of the two moons peeking through the cracks of the tent bathed him in a soft light. 

You’d become close with Fives not long after arriving as a medic. At first you didn’t really talk with anyone else, sat alone in the mess aboard the Resolute, preferred to just go about your duties and not get attached. But Fives had plopped right down across from you at one lunch and never looked back. On the surface, you two were totally different. On paper it didn’t make sense.

But you couldn’t imagine your life without him. He made you smile on days when you needed it the most. He always seemed to be able to read your mind, much like tonight. You didn’t want to bother anyone and planned on coming back to your bunk to lay in silence for an hour and then go back to work. You didn’t want to sleep. You didn’t think you could.

But somehow, Fives just knew.

He knew what you needed the most was someone to keep you company. 

Yes you preferred to be alone, but that didn’t mean you wanted to be lonely. 

Especially on a night like this.

Fives piled his armor in a small bunch against the wall of the tent, tossing part of the fabric bundle at your feet. You buried your face into your pillow, cheeks warming as he grabbed the back of his blacks and pulled it over his head. 

Now was not the time for this. 

There was some shuffling and you looked up to see Fives spreading another thin blanket over you. Then he motioned with his hand. 

“Come on, scoot over.”

“But-“

“Move before I just lay on top of you.”

If your face wasn’t burning before, it definitely was now. But you did move quickly, scooting to the very edge of the incredibly small bunk, facing away from where Fives was moving. There was a brief moment when the blankets shifted that you felt a rush of cold air, but it dissipated quickly and was immediately replaced by nothing but warmth.

You squeezed your eyes shut tight, feeling the bed shift as Fives got himself comfortable. Well as comfortable as he could be crammed on a bunk meant only for barely one person. 

Sleep. Come on, just karking fall asleep already.

You were trying your hardest to will yourself to fall asleep, but nothing was working. 

You were jolted out of your spiraling thoughts when you felt an arm snake around your waist and pull you backwards. Your eyes snapped open and you tensed. 

“Relax.”

“Fives-“

“I said relax. Just go to sleep okay? I’m not going anywhere.”

His breath at your ear did nothing to calm you down, nor did the way his feet tangled with yours. Despite him telling you to relax, you just couldn’t seem to do it. 

His arm tightened and you felt him press his lips to your hairline, speaking softly. “Please. Get some rest.”

All at once, the fight in you left in an instant. Your eyes burned and you curled in on yourself, or tried to. Fives seemed to anticipate this and held on tighter, not letting you push away. 

“It’s okay. I’m not going anywhere.”

You slumped against him and grabbed onto his hand, holding on for dear life as the day's events caught up with you. Fives never once let go and continued to whisper quietly to you. 

Eventually, you must have dozed off because you awoke to sunlight streaming through the crack in the tent. The tent was still quiet and nearly empty, but you could hear the camp waking up outside. You rubbed a hand against your face and let out a breath. 

There was a grunt from behind you and you tensed as the arm around you tightened. The events from the night before came rushing back and you felt a blush spread across your face at the thought of spending the night with your best friend that you probably, most likely had developing feelings for. 

Now would be a great time to get out of here. 

You started to move, only for Fives to clamp down even harder. His forehead thumped against your head as his nose brushed the skin of your shoulder. 

“Five more minutes.”

You relented, knowing that when it came to sleep, Fives didn’t mess around and if he wanted to stay, you weren’t going anywhere. 

He drifted back off behind you and you took the time to think back on the day before. It had been a hard day, one of the hardest you’ve had in a long time.  And it would continue to be hard for a while. But you’d get through it. You had to. So you would.

A few minutes later, Fives began to stir. He sighed deeply, pulling himself even closer, despite you thinking that wasn’t possible. 

“Mornin’” he rasped and you laughed lightly.

“Good morning.”

“Feeling better?” 

You sighed. “Yeah. I am.”

He grunted in response. “Good.”

“We really need to get up Fives.”

“No we don’t.”

“Yes we do.”

“No. I’m an ARC trooper, I can do what I want.”

You snorted before checking your small watch. “Alright fine but I need to get up. My shift starts soon.” 

“No you don’t. I forbade it.”

You couldn’t stop the smile from spreading across your face at his whining. Fives must have noticed because you could feel him smile too as his nose brushed the underside of your jaw. 

“Fine but don’t say I didn’t try.”

Your smile faded slightly. “Thank you Fives.”

“Hmm, for what?” 

You rolled your eyes. “For last night. I didn’t realize how much I needed it.”

He hummed softly. “Anytime. Seriously though. I slept great so I want to do it again.”

Your face warmed and you gave him a playful shove. He laughed quietly, squeezing just a bit tighter. He shifted abruptly and you turned to see him hovering above you. Your heart thumped loudly in your chest. His eyes searched your face and you felt totally frozen. 

Then he leaned down and your eyes fluttered closed without thinking. His lips pressed against your forehead and you let out the breath you had been holding. He pulled back slightly, but still lingered for a moment. Your hands fisted in his blacks, wondering if you should just forget about your shift just to spend a few more moments here, right now. 

Fives pulled back before you could act on that impulse. You opened your eyes and he smiled at you. You smiled back and then he was moving, standing up and stretching. 

You flopped back down against the pillow, watching as he gathered up his armor and began putting it on. He sat down on the edge of the bed and began clicking his leg armor on. He stole a glance behind and poked at your leg. 

“Come on, we’re both going to be late.”

You gave him another shove before climbing out of bed yourself. Together you got ready with hushed whispers and quiet laughs. 

And yesterday’s troubles slowly eased and were replaced by nothing but warmth and him. 

You knew that days like yesterday were only going to get more frequent and more intense. And you didn’t know what this was with Fives. But those dark days didn’t seem all that scary when he was smiling at you. Those days wouldn’t haunt you as much as long as he stayed by your side. 

Your future was uncertain.

But as long as Fives was there, you knew you’d not only survive, but live. 

[seven-stars-in-his-palm]

writer ask!! I have two hypothetical titles for you:

1. "Anywhere you go (let me go too)" from Phantom Of The Opera's "All I Ask Of You"

2. "The stars were made for falling" (Dream Sweet in Sea Major, my beloved)

3. "Twice as many stars as usual" (The Two-Headed Lamb poem I think? something like that. you prob know the title.)

obligatory disclaimer: feel free to modify these a bit, add/take bits away, paragraphs, etc. yada yada. Have fun !!!!! ;)

FIC TITLES!!!!!!!!!! this requires some intense thinking. thank you pep, ypu're making my brain work. hm....

1) getting some desolate vibes from this, especially with its connection to the phantom of the opera. i'd be tempted to write something connected 2 the phantom, but i havent got the knowledge for that (yet). its also giving very them vibesin general. i've given crowley this Thing through my fics where he'll following aziraphale Anywhere, but when its too much, you KNOW aziraphale done fucked up. not sure why i mentioned that but i suppose its an explanation that this is very crowley-esque 2 me. probably a fic where azirphale is being his repressed little self and crowley is trying to help but realizes he needs to make that jpurney on his own . so the idea isnt too solid, but i have a VIBE

2) mmmm there are so many options here TOO. i coulddd say a prefall fic but im not very confident normally to write something from that era. its gotta be something involving crowley being doomed from the start ofc, but in WHAT SITUATION. hmm. i do have a single bullet point about a fic where aziraphale isnt able to warn crowley about the flood in time and it happens without him even understanding what’s going on which is just heartbreaking to me. absolutely deserving of this title tbh. also havr this idea where before the beginning, angel crowley is fucking with time to create an "infinite" star system you could say, after he's had his interaction with aziraphale but has yet to directly asking god his questions. he fucks it up too much and us therefore transported to the Future, where future aziraphale has to hide this guy before crowley finds out (its like a month before season 2). it would be very emotional and probably not very high stakes, but would eventually have both crowleys accept the inevtabilities of their situations and let every run the course. stars were made for falling, indeed.

3) this one was likely the easiest thing to come for me: an au where crowley agrees to be an angel but only on the condition he’s allowed one last night on earth with aziraphale, so he is the two headed calf who will be wrapped in newspaper and hauled to the museum (heaven), but tonight, he is alive and in a random field with his other half. it is a perfect summer evening, just as season 2 was depicted to be—and as he stares into the sky, there will be twice as many stars as usual. it would be a very brief drabble, but ohhh would it hurt. let me try and write a couple paragraphs actually

"Right," Crowley can hear himself say, and surprisingly, he believes everything the angel said. Or he can understand what he said, anyway--the 'old times' were before there was ever a second side. The 'old times' were before the concept of pleasure or selfishness weren't even conceived. The 'old times' were...before they were them.

So yes, Crowley can understand what Aziraphale is saying. He wants to be right, and he wants to love. He wants to be loved. As long as Crowley is Crowley, he cannot have both.

Crowley also knows Aziraphale. If there's a way to have both, he will fight tooth and nail to have them, even if it will only end up hurting them all in the process.

So really, there's only one thing Crowley can do.

And it is going to hurt.

okay not very related to the poem but you KNOW WHAT I MEAN!!! thanks for the ask pep :D

[ilbenmalpensanteus]

From the unedited work To turn the spiral out of its path, this Drabble covers Day 11 of snsmonth (prompts: Akatsuki // Under the stars) and Day 28 (Role reversal).

This story is really dear to me and @mixu and we hope you’ll love it the way we do.

You can read this short extract in Ao3 as well.

Enjoy ✨

To make our tears a sign of strength

The rumbling waterfall reflected his form in a blur of red and black. The lake’s surface was oddly still — water so dark it mirrored the stars scarring the night sky vividly.

Naruto exhaled, mildly relieved in witnessing the absence of the moon.

He neared the entrance of the cave slowly, bracing himself for what he knew was about to happen.

The demon inside him stirred, his chest tightening for the weight of the feelings he would have to face soon.

He couldn’t let the fox rule his life — he couldn’t allow that demon to beat his control. The stakes were too high and-

I love you.

The blonde drew in a harsh breath, his fists clenching so hard he felt nails cutting into his palms.

Naruto tried to bask in the familiar pain, attempting to drown thoughts of dark eyes, pale skin-

Because I love you!

His eyes prickled, and he found himself squeezing them to stifle the tears threatening to escape.

Suddenly, he realized that what he had to set free was not the lost past, but the lost future — the one that would never be.

His mind wandered briefly, taking him back — for what should have been the last time — to swirling, torturing, naïve memories.

Illusions he’d always held close to his heart with every ounce of his remaining hope.

The very hope feeding his weakness.

I love you, Naruto.

Naruto gritted his teeth, but he steadied his stance and forced himself to look into the depth of the streaming water.

It was time to let go.

And it was like being ripped in half.

[a-valorant-effort]

can u do enemies to lovers w yoru 🥺 like maybe their rlly good partners in valorant but their both too stubborn 2 admit they like eachother n all the other agents r like 😉😏😏 tysm!!!!!!

*sees enemies to lovers request*

Cass:

Keep it Together

Yoru x GN!Reader

I got carried away with this one oop-

“Would you get out of the way? I can’t even see through the scope.”

“I’m in the rift, Y/N.”

“Oh, my bad. You’re big blue ego must have leaked back into this dimension, you’ll be spotted quick.”

It’s like this. Everyday. Back and forth. Left and right. Yin and Yang. Y/N and Yoru haven’t gotten along since the day they showed up. Yoru, a flashy radiant with the power to travel through dimensions and become invisible to the enemy team, was a force to be reckoned with when it came to being a ground fighter. Y/N, was the opposite. Powerless, dull, armed with nothing but their quick wit and lethal aim. It was in this clause where they differed so heavily. No one really knows why they do it. Jealousy? Intimidation? Or simply pure hatred? One claiming to be better than the other, competing for kills on deadly missions and high stakes infiltrations. Y/N, the eyes in the sky, while Yoru lie low.

“Both of you, stop bickering. Your target is in there, kill him, then get out.” Brimstone sounded tired over the communicator, more so than usual.

Through a stroke of chance, Yoru was able to sneak past the guards and saw their target. Pulling out his knife, he slowly crept up to the man before his heart almost dropped at the sound of a bullet coming through the window. The target lie dead.

“Got em.” Y/N giggled through the com.

“Oh, fuck you.”

The bickering never stops, not even once their mission is over.

“I don’t need a flashy power to be better than you.” Y/N leaned over the couch, their arms swung over the cushions.

“Neither do I.”

Y/N scoffed. “You’re nothing without that radianite.”

“The same can be said about your weapon and you. You’re nothing without that either.” Yoru looked into their eyes, smirking.

“Y/N. A word.” Brimstone called from the hall.

“Daddy’s calling.” Yoru laughed.

“At least mine came back.” Y/N shoved a pillow in his face and walked off.

“Jesus christ. Do you two ever stop arguing?” Viper rubbed her temples.

Jett nonchalantly tuned in, her eyes still trained on a video game on the tv. “Yeah dude, you two need to fuck already.”

Yoru coughed. “What?!”

“Yeah bro, you two got something going on there.” Phoenix was beside her, focusing just as intently.

“You’re hysterical. I don’t like Y/N, I just want to put them in their place.”

“In your be-,”

“No.”

Phoenix and Jett laughed.

“I’m serious. I despise Y/N. I would rather listen to Killjoy talk about astrophysics all day.”

“Oh really? What do you hate about Y/N?”

“Oh wow, where do I start? They’re useless. They can’t do anything but aim really well from a distance. I have to save their ass everytime they get into a little bit of danger. I hate how they look when they get a good shot with the operator. I hate that stupid little giggle they have. I hate the way their uniform perfectly hugs their hips a certain way. I hate it when their pupils dilate slightly when the get excited, I hate it.” Yoru took a breath. Phoenix and Jett stared at him, their attention fully drawn to him.

“What?”

“Dude, you’ve got it so bad.” Jett laughed.

It struck him like a hammer to a nail. The more he thought about Y/N, the more endearing the thoughts became. Oh god, he liked them. He loved them.

“Well no point in standing here loverboy!” Yoru hadn’t realized he said it out loud, so Phoenix’s response caught him off guard. “You gotta tell them!”

“No chance, they hate me. No way they feel the same.”

~~~

“This fighting needs to stop.”

Brimstone had Y/N in the briefing room, sitting on opposite sides of the long ovular table.

“It’s not my fault he gets on my nerves at every turn.” Y/N kicked their feet up. “And if you hate us fighting so much, why don’t you just separate us? Seems to me anytime I need a partner you’re putting me with the rift-rat.”

Brimstone put his hand to his forehead. “Y/N, do you know why I pair you up with Yoru?”

“Clearly not.”

“Because mission success rates are the highest when you two are put back to back. Monte Carlo, Venice, New Zealand, all of your duo missions have come back successful, the only error is when you two decide to turn it into some sort of competition.” Brimstone laid out a file folder that was labeled “Rift-shot” Y/N opened it to find all of their and his statistics lying within it. “Think about what you two could do if you stopped trying to step on each other and instead tried to lift each other up. You’ve done it before.”

That last part was interesting to Y/N because, well... yeah, they have. They can remember all of the times Yoru has bandages them up in a clutch situation, or the times Yoru was about to get caught but a piercing bullet to the head deliver by them had saved him. Whether they liked it or not, Y/N and Yoru were perfect for each other. Back and forth. Left and right. Yin and Yang.

“We’ve got reports of a radianite shipment getting lost somewhere in Croatia, you think you’re up for the task?” Y/N lifted their head and looked Brimstone in the eye who gave them a knowing look.

“Fine. I can do it.”

“Not the answer I’m looking for.”

Y/N sighed. “We can do it.”

Brimstone smiled. “Dropship will be ready for you first thing tomorrow morning, I expect no issues.”

~~~

Yeah. There were issues.

Why Y/N had agreed to a mission when they couldn’t even look at each other now wasn’t their best move. They uncomfortably shuffled next to their partner who was also trying to mask his discomfort. They stayed like this, two trained killers who couldn’t even look each other in the eye for more than a second. Through apologies, awkward shuffling and flinching at even the smallest touch, they found it difficult not to say anything.

Y/N was the first to speak. “Hey.” Yoru turned his head. “I uh, I’m sorry I took that knife kill from you. I probably should have-”

Yoru interrupted. “No!” He coughed, and readjusted his tone. “You did well. As long as the target is dead we did our jobs well.”

“I guess so.” Y/N leaned in a bit more towards Yoru, more comfortable in his presence now. “And the look on your face was pretty funny.”

They giggled, and for once Yoru didn’t find it obnoxious or annoying. It was, cute. Comforting. And it made Yoru laugh along too. “I can’t say I disagree.”

Y/N held out their hand. “We make a good team, don’t we?”

Yoru held his out with a smile. “Yeah. I guess we do.”

And in that moment, everything felt right.

~~~

So why did everything go wrong?

Y/N hit the ground running, as fast they could even though they were carrying a whole human over their shoulder. Yoru was loosing blood quick, they knew that, but there wasn’t much they could do until they were out of harms way.

“The drop ship isn’t far, come on, you have to stay with me.” Y/N went as fast as they could, trying to make Yoru comfortable but also rushing at the same time.

The two hobbled into the ship, dodging bullets on their way. Once they were safe, Yoru collapsed on the cool metal floor, blood seeping through his clothes and violently coughing dead air.

“Hey hey hey.” Y/N frantically kneeled next to him and cupped his face. “It’s a 90 minute flight home, you have to hold on a little longer, I’ll do what I can to keep you around until then.”

His face may have been bloody and pale, but Y/N still saw him as the beautiful boy he was. Stroking his cheek and gingerly running their fingers through his hair, Yoru tried his best to muster a smile.

Yoru held the back of Y/N’s neck, trying to bring their face closer down. “Come here.” Y/N leaned down and Yoru lifted his head slightly to meet them with a kiss.

“Keep it together ok?” Y/N said after they broke the kiss. “I can’t lose you.”

Yoru pressed another kiss to their cheek and closed his eyes, knowing that his Y/N would be there when he woke.

[mandoalorian]

I Believe In Love [Maxwell Lord x F!Reader] — Two: Truth

Author's note: When you find your calling to leave Themyscira, you venture out to the World of Man with intentions of helping and healing a very specific person's relationship with his son. You've heard his voice before, but only in dreams. You've felt his pain and anguish and you've never been able to relate to anything more. But things don't come easy for you, and they certainly don't come easy for him either. [This series contains spoilers for WW84 and is my interpretation of what happens after the movie ends].

Warnings: allusions to sex, mention of trauma

Word count: 4,400>

Masterlist

Previous - Chapter Two - Next

"Can I help you?" you jumped when you felt a tap on your shoulder. You spun around on your heel, diverting your attention from the man on the television to the petite blonde girl who was doting a pale pink pant suit. Her blue eyes seemed friendly enough, but her expression of bewilderment and slight disdain was enough to make you uncomfortable. Your lips parted slightly as you tried to gather your words.

"I'm… I'm looking for someone," you said hesitantly. You turned back around to watch the television, pressing the palm of your hand against the screen and watching him with awe. You weren't sure if you were more flabbergasted by this brand new technology, or by the handsome man who was attempting to sell you oil.

"You're going to have to be more specific," the woman placed a hand on her hip and quirked her eyebrow.

"My friend Alistair…" you said slowly before shaking your head and smiling. "Do you know this man?" you pointed at the television.

The blonde woman looked completely and utterly perplexed. "Mr Lord?" she asked. Her mind was racing: everyone knew who her boss was. She pondered for a moment, questioning who exactly you were and where did you come from before shaking her head profusely. "Wait, I’m sorry. Did you just say Alistair?" she pinched the bridge of her nose and began to circle around you, taking in your appearance; judging your native Amazonian outfit and muddy skin.

"Yes, Alistair. We met in the park earlier," you explained. "Please excuse the dirt on my body."

"Mr Lord’s son…?" the lady said, speaking her thoughts out loud. No woman had ever come to Black Gold Cooperative requesting to see Alistair, note even his own mother. "Who are you?"

You smiled politely, taking the lady's hand. "I'm here to help. Where can I find Mr Lord?"

"Do you have an appointment with him?" the lady in pink asked, walking around the main desk and checking the computer. "I'm his secretary by the way. My name is Raquel." she mumbled as she pressed a few keys.

You introduced yourself and shook her hand, admiring her beautifully manicured nails. "An appointment?" you repeated. "No, not really. He doesn’t know I’m coming.”

“Mr Lord is a very busy man,” Raquel sighed, tapping her manicured acrylic nails against the oak wood desk. “He doesn’t do surprise visits.”

“That’s okay, I wish to see Alistair anyway. I must know if he’s okay.” your body was still rife with concern over what you had witnessed happen to the little boy earlier at the playpark, and how he had disappeared.

“There is no way for me to contact Alistair, he’s just a child… but uh, let me see what I can do.” Raquel sighed, knowing she wasn’t easily going to get rid of you anytime soon. “I can give Mr Lord a call and let him know you wish to see him,” she told you, ringing in his phone number. “Can I ask what your business with him is?”

“I’m here to help him,” you repeated with an eager grin.

“Right,” Raquel said slowly as you turned back to the television, admiring the man with the dark blonde hair, sporting the three piece designer suits. “Help him with what?”

You blinked momentarily, watching this Mr Lord drone on and on and on. “Oil.” you practically squeaked out.

“Oil?” Raquel questioned, not believing you for one minute. She had every right inkling to believe you were dangerous, but it was her job to contact Maxwell in this type of situation, no matter what. You squeezed your eyes shut almost sensing her disbelief when you heard her speak again. Her voice had changed completely, high pitched and almost articulated. “Oh, yes, hi! Mr Lord! There is someone here who wishes to see you.”

Thank the Gods he’d picked up the phone before Raquel could quiz you further.

Maxwell had answered from the car phone. He’d just dropped Alistair off at Julianna and Theodore’s home. It was never fun, having to go see his wife. He wanted to be strong, and he certainly wanted to keep his promise to Alisitar, about spending the whole weekend together - but there was too much at stake. He knew that deep down, Alisitair would understand one day. Maxwell cursed himself for messing up so quickly. The phone rang just as Maxwell slid back into the car. Pinching the bridge of his nose, Max huffed a sigh and held the phone to his ear. “Who is it?” Maxwell asked wearily. “If it’s the FBI or the FTC…”

Maxwell was nervous. He was even confused that Raquel was still at Black Gold, still happy to work for him after he did commit what potentially could be classified as war crimes. Maxwell was a realist and he knew that with every action, came a consequence. The world had never been kind to him, and he looked down at the envelope that Theodore had handed to him. His name, Maxwell Lorenzano, was written on the front in Julianna’s perfectly inked calligraphy. Max hated it. He didn’t have his name legally changed fifteen years ago just so his ex wife could throw his old identity back in his face. He hated his real name. It was a constant reminder of his past life. But now he didn’t know what was worse, being a Lord or a Lorenzano. The name Lorenzano had been tainted for him, by his family, and years of bullying. But the name Lord? He’d tainted that himself. A conman. A stupid, messed up loser. Julianna hadn’t wanted to see Maxwell, and instead sent her new boyfriend to collect Alistair from him.

“Julianna wants you to have this,” Theodore said with a frown, taking Alistair’s hand and pulling him away from Maxwell. “When you read through it, give her a call.” was all he said before slamming the front door in Max’s face. Max didn’t know what was inside the envelope, but he knew it couldn’t be good.

“No, it’s not the FBI or the FTC. It’s a woman,” Raquel said hesitantly. “She… she’s a bit odd,” Raquel whispered, but not quiet enough for it to go unnoticed by you. Nevertheless, you pretended to ignore her comment. Perhaps you were odd, and perhaps that was okay. The world of man was not something you were used to. But you were here for a reason. The delay in Maxwell’s response prompted Raquel to say more. “Mr Lord… I don’t think she’s going to leave without seeing you. Would you like me to call the cops?”

“No!” Maxwell practically barked. He turned on the engine of his car and held the phone between his ear and shoulder, reversing out of the driveway. He didn’t know what was going on, it was too early to tell - but Maxwell couldn’t have the police anywhere near Black Gold. There was a good chance the police might be looking for him anyway. There was a good chance Max believed he might even have to go into hiding. “I’m on my way.” Maxwell promised before putting the phone down.

You turned back to Raquel when you heard the phone click back onto the hook. “Well, he’s coming,” she shrugged. “Just take a seat please. He won’t be long.”

You walked over to the centre of the lobby where there was a long circular velveteen sofa with a silver foiled surface. You ran your finger over the material, savouring the soft feeling. It was unlike anything you had ever felt before. You let out a small gasp when you noticed your gladiator sandals had trailed in mud and made a mess of the pristine marble floor. You knew it wouldn’t take much to clean, but you still felt bad.

The lobby of Black Gold Cooperative was large, with pillars similar to what they’d have in the Themysciran palace back home and vases of white roses decorating every corner. You wiped down your skirt and tunic, not wanting to be responsible for any more mess, and sat down on the sofa. You groaned as the velveteen plush engulfed you. You couldn’t help it, Raquel was gone and you were exhausted after spending the day looking for Alistair. You hummed in contentment, unbuckling the leather straps on your shoes and laying down on the sofa, curling up and closing your eyes.

Everything was dull. The sky was grey, dark and rainy clouds casting a cold shadow over your shoulders. This was weird. Normally your dreams would be utter and complete blackness - the inability to see anything, only hear the chaos that surrounded you. Only hear the cries and pleas for help and terror - and his voice. The man you were soughting for. You wondered if upon venturing to the world of man, your premonitions had stopped. But that didn’t make any sense. You were one step closer to finding this mystery man.

In the distance, you saw a group of kids tormenting and teasing another little boy. The image reflected what you had seen earlier at the playpark with Alistair, but it was different children this time. “What are you wearing?” you heard one boy mock as you ran closer. “Look at your shoes! Little Lorenzano can’t even afford new shoes!” a different girl cackled.

Lorenzano. You stopped dead in your footsteps, your eyes widening as you watched the group of kids disband, leaving the little boy with glazed brown eyes and ripped clothes shaking with fear. Lorenzano was the name of the man you were looking for - the man you had to help. Your mother Hestia had helped you learn that, but you had never seen him before. This Lorenzano was just a child. There was no way he could have a son.

You took a deep breath and reached out. “Sweet boy?” you called, taking a cautious step forward. Little Lorenzano didn’t even flinch. “Hello?” you asked again. You got as close as you could to him, walking around in circles and taking in his appearance, but he didn’t even notice you. It was almost like he couldn’t see you.

That’s when you realised you weren’t in a dream. You were in a memory. And suddenly everything made sense. This broken little boy was in fact the same person you were looking for. But now, he was a broken man who was desperately trying to make things right. Desperately trying to turn his life around. You’d seen a fleck of his past and you wondered if he was anything like that now. It didn’t matter. All that mattered was that you had to find him.

There was no way of telling how long you were asleep for, but when you heard Maxwell Lord’s voice, you couldn’t distinguish it from your dream or reality. It was so familiar, so rich and articulate.

“Jesus Christ,” Maxwell muttered, pacing backwards and forwards before turning back to you and prodding a finger into your bare arm. “Wake up.” he said sternly, his voice a little louder than before. You yawned, bringing your hands up to your eyes and giving them a gentle rub before sitting up and looking at the man.

It was him. The same man you had seen on the television. Only there was something not that right. You couldn’t put your finger on it. You grinned, your eyes gleaming with delight as you stood up and cupped your hands around his face, squeezing his cheeks and getting as close as you could. You touched him and maneuvered his body in different ways, lifting his arms up and brushing down his shoulders. He was broader than any Amazonian woman, and that said a lot. Surprisingly, Maxwell became putty in your grip. He would’ve never have expected it, but he just let you mould him and sculpt him in any which way you pleased. You traced his skin with your fingers, taking in every detail. It was certainly the man from the television - but this version of Maxwell Lord looked more tired and disheveled. His hair wasn’t perfectly styled and he wasn’t fitted into a perfectly pressed suit. But he was still just as remarkable and there was something about his presence that simply took your breath away.

He could say the same about you, too. He was completely stunned by you. Your beauty was incomparable to anyone else he’d ever seen. You almost looked out of this world. He was quick to shrug off his fascination with you, boiling it down to the fact you were covered in dirt and dressed in the strangest costume. He had more important things to worry about… like Alistair and whatever was in that damn envelope Theodore had given him.

“You’re a man,” you whispered in disbelief.

“I- what?” Maxwell asked, furrowing his eyebrows together.

“A real man,” you gasped, running your fingers through his dark blonde hair. Maxwell had to push back a longing groan, as your touch went straight to his semi-hard and already throbbing manhood. He gulped, diverting his gaze from your beautiful eyes.

“Do I- do I not look like a real man?” he asked curiously, ignoring the shudder that felt like it was swallowing him whole.

“Themyscrian depictions of man illustrate a strong, tall, muscular fellow who carries a sword and shield,” You explained, biting your lip and placing the palm of your hand over his chest. You could feel his beating heart under your touch and it almost took your breath away. You dragged your hand down to the curve of his tummy and Maxwell felt his cheeks heat up with insecurity. He never let anyone touch him like this. “They were naked too.”

Maxwell practically choked on his own tongue. That comment alone was enough to get him to step back and raise his hands up defensively.

“Well princess, I won’t be getting naked for you anytime soon, that’s for sure.” He chuckled nervously.

You smiled. “Princess? No no, I’m not a princess,” you giggled before introducing yourself. “I’m the goddess of home and hearth.”

Maxwell gulped before bursting into a fit of laughter. He looked around the office lobby, his movements quick and stressed. “Right, where’s the camera?”

“The- the camera?” you asked, confused.

“Is this for TV? Come on, tell me quickly. It’s a practical joke… right? You’re here, in my office, covered in dirt and in the most ridiculous clothes I’ve ever seen. And you say all these weird words like Themysciran - whatever that means, and you’re telling me you’re the goddess of home and… hearth?” he said almost quizzically. “You’re the crazy woman who stole Alistair away from me at the playpark earlier.”

So Raquel was right. He really was Alistair’s father. “Hey!” you frowned at his accusations. You hadn’t lied to him once. “You weren’t where Alistair left you. You disappeared and I was helping him find you!” you shot back, feeling an anger bubble inside of you.

“I don’t know where you come from princess, but here in America, you don’t just go round stealing people’s kids. That’s like, a federal offence.” Maxwell shouted, wiggling his finger in the air. “Jesus, where do you come from?”

You defensively crossed your arms over your chest, his yelling making you feel vulnerable. You could tell that he was clearly already under a lot of stress but he had no reason to take it out on you. “Themyscira.” you told him calmly.

He scrunched up his face in disdain. "There it is again. Them-a-what-now?"

"Themyscira." you said, this time making conscious effort to say it slower and clearer.

"With all due respect darling, I've travelled the world. I've been to many different places. I spent my adolescence studying a map of the world and never in my life have I heard of such a place." Maxwell shook his head in disbelief.

"I'm not here to prove anything to you, Mr Lord. But I find your attitude towards me to be quite upsetting." you revealed, looking back at the revolving doors you came in. There was a deafening silence that filled the room.

"Why are you here?" Maxwell snapped eventually with a huff. You swallowed as he stalked over to you, his gaze not breaking from you once. There was something primal in his walk. "Why… are you… here?"

He wished he could ignore the distracting erection in his pants. He didn't even know you. You were just a random girl who had come into his office demanding to see him, refusing to leave until he came. You were just a random girl who had got close with him, who had touched his face and dragged your hand down his body. Who… talked about naked men. Truthfully, Maxwell had never been with a woman who was quite like you, but things were starting to make sense for him. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad if he were to just take you up to his private office.

Your throat felt dry and for the first time, you couldn't fathom words. His honeyed brown eyes were now dark and lust blown as he raised his hand to caress your cheek. You didn't even realise the way you subconsciously moved your face further into his hold and a wicked smirk crossed his lips. His hand was large and warm and his touch filled you with a sense of protection you didn't even think you needed. "Oh," Maxwell chuckled darkly. "I know what you want from me."

"You do?" you asked timidly, not even realising the hold he had you under. For a second, you'd forgotten why you were even here. You were so taken in by Max. You were feeling things you had never felt in your life for this man who had been haunting your every thought. He was so close to you, his breath fanned over your skin and you felt a sensation erupt between your legs. His presence was intoxicating, and he could say the same about you.

"But I can't," Maxwell shook his head, his gaze falling to your lips before dropping his hand from your face and taking a step back. He cleared his throat and looked away awkwardly, moving his hand down to his crotch trying to hide his arousal from you. "I… I should go."

There was an immediate feeling of guilt that washed over Maxwell. He'd gained reputation in the past for sleeping with women, namely his assistants and secretaries, and not shown them a slither of affection or care. He was a selfless lover and he could get away with it because he was rich, famous and attractive. But now he was none of those things. When he looked at himself in the mirror before heading to the playpark, his own appearance knocked him sick. The stress wrinkles setting in his forehead, the dark circles around his eyes… and he hadn't showered in a week. His hair was a mess and he couldn't even bring himself to check a whiff of his underarms. He didn't know you, but he sure as hell knew you deserved better than a man like him.

You were bright eyed, polite, and curious about the world around you. Not only that, you had demanded to see Maxwell just because you wished to check on his son and make sure he was okay. You had gotten very close to Max and not said a word about his bad hygiene or his tired eyes, instead, you looked at him with hope and admiration. Almost as if you believed that he could become a better man.

"Wait!" you called, reaching your hand out before Maxwell could walk away. "I'm sorry if- I'm sorry if this wasn't a good conversation for you. I've never spoken to a man before."

Maxwell titled his head and quirked an eyebrow. "You intrigue me," he admitted, pursing his lips slightly. His gaze fell from your face to the circle of rope attached to your belt. It didn't take long before he realised what it was— but no, it couldn't be. "What is that?" Maxwell asked, pointing at the rope as fear dripped from his tongue. He even took a few steps back.

You unravelled the rope and held it out for him to see. "This is the lasso of Hestia, it was my mother's. She gave it to me before I left for the world of man. Only two were made and this— this is the last one," you smiled a tearful smile at the memory of your mother. Diana had taken the other lasso, as well as the sword of Athena, back in 1918. "My mother Hestia is the goddess of Truth. And the lasso of Hestia compels any individual it uses to see the truth, or speak it," There was no telling what the expression on Maxwell's face showed. You frowned. "You still don't believe me, do you?"

The lasso had initiated a trauma response in Maxwell as you turned it on. He watched it glow yellow, the same yellow that Diana's lasso had glowed when she wrapped it around his ankle in the island bunker. He remembered her words; "See the truth." and his heart sank into the depths of his chest. That's when he saw Alistair.

Maxwell had always thought Diana Prince was strange. Ever since she told him she didn't own a TV— because who in the 1980s didn't own a TV? And who would deny a free 19 inch TV from Sears? But when she had followed him to Cairo with her pilot boyfriend and caused nothing but chaos in her red, blue and gold superhero outfit, he knew she was special. That she possessed powers. This was later reaffirmed in The White House, and then in the bunker as Maxwell tried to plot world domination and grant wishes to every citizen.

He looked at you behind all the mud and dirt, and he looked into your eyes. Could it be true? Could you be telling the truth? What if you were like Diana? Would he really want to be around someone like you?

Maxwell took a huff of air and wrapped the lasso around his wrist. You watched him, letting him do so. "Prove it." Max swallowed the lump in his throat that he hadn't even realised was there. You looked at him with hesitancy before nodding your head. If this worked, he has no reason not to believe you. A magical lasso… and it wasn't the first he had seen.

"What do you wish to see?" you asked Maxwell, your voice quiet. You didn't detach your gaze from his eyes once.

"Do you see what I see?" He asked, and you nodded your head in affirmation. Maxwell thought for a second, before remembering you had come all this way to Black Gold Cooperative just to see Alistair. At first, there was something deeply unsettling about it… but your presence made Maxwell feel safe. "Show me my son."

You closed your eyes and Maxwell followed your actions, and it wasn't long before your vision was clouded by the image of Alistair in his bedroom at Julianna and Theodore's house. Sitting at a desk, he was humming a song. Maxwell couldn't help but smile, recognising the song from the video game Alistair played with him earlier in the day. With an array of colourful crayons, he intricately sketched a drawing of a man with messy yellow hair and a tie, holding the hand of a smaller boy with black hair holding a teddy bear. He labelled the drawing ‘me and daddy’.

"Alistair sweetheart," Julianna called, peeking her head through the door that stood slightly ajar. "Dinner is ready," Alistair didn't look up once, continuing to rub pink crayon into his paper. "What are you drawing there?" Julianna asked, slipping into her son's bedroom and peering over his shoulder and the drawing.

"Me and daddy," Alistair mumbled, only half listening. He was too busy concentrating on adding the purple detailing on his daddy's socks.

"Oh sweetie, I told you that maybe, sometime, you could draw yourself and Theodore? You know, since he's your father too. He does so much for you Alistair, he takes you out to the movies, takes you to your piano lessons… he's a good guy," Julianna smiled, ruffling her son's hair. She pressed her finger into the yellow haired stick man wearing purple socks. "He's not a good guy."

Alistair furrowed his eyebrows, dropping the crayon to the paper and turning to face his mother. "My daddy is my hero." Alistair told his mother, his brown eyes wide and full of love.

Julianna didn't say a word. She stiffened up, standing tall and glared at her son's drawing. Her stare was so intense, you wondered if she was about to eject lasers from her eyes and set the paper on fire.

"Go eat your dinner." She finally said coldly, her words dripping with malice before barging out Alistair's bedroom.

The lasso of truth unravelled itself from Maxwell's wrist and you curled it back into your holster, clipping it in place on your belt. You looked up and noticed the tears that were pricking Maxwell's eyes.

"You- you probably shouldn't have seen all of that," Maxwell admitted, his voice croaking slightly as he tried to hold himself back from becoming a sobbing mess. "I'm not a hero."

You reached out and took the hand of the big-name businessman who was standing before you on the verge of tears. His hand was big, cold, and his fingers were calloused. You took him in both of your hands and rubbed soothing circles into his skin, desperately trying to provide him with warmth and comfort. His glazed brown eyes looked up at you with bewilderment as he wondered why you were being so nice to him. He was a monster, he deserved every bad consequence that would be coming for him. And yet, you treat him like a human. Even at the height of his career when he lived in riches and luxury, nobody had treated him with the politeness and love you were currently giving him — and you were a stranger. A stranger who was covered in mud with a magic lasso.

"Maybe you are a hero."

—-—-—

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[tothemeadow]

Commissioned by @thermaflute​

Rengoku Kyojuro x Reader

- Being a slayer, Kyojuro knows how wrong it is to be absolutely whipped for a demon. It’s not his own fault that you give him mind-blowing sex. -

warnings: NSFW, teasing, degradation, overstimulation, ahegao, handjobs, dom reader

words: 2k

-

There’s just something about saving the day and being a hero that really, really gets Kyojuro. Of course, it’s his job for gods’ sakes, but to have people looking up to him, swooning over him? There is nothing like it. So yeah, he may or may not have a hero complex. What’s the big deal? It’s not like he’s doing anything wrong.

Well… Except for the fact that he is.

Nervousness and guilt chew away at Kyojuro’s insides as he stalks towards the manor; above him, the pitch black sky twinkles with thousands of stars, all of them distant diamonds. The full moon shines bright, an iridescent yellow compared to the rest of the nighttime sky. A chorus of crickets and croaking frogs surrounds him; everything is too peaceful, too idyllic.

The first time he came to this very manor, he expected the place to be surrounded by bones, both old and new. Human heads would be perched on stakes, their mouths forever open in a silent scream. He truly anticipated the absolute worse. However, as he quickly realized, everything was the exact opposite.

He shouldn’t even be here. A demon resided here – you, specifically – and he hunted demons for a living. You’re a dangerous person with sharp teeth and even sharper claws; you can kill him in an instant if you truly wanted to, and yet you didn’t. The same could be said about Kyojuro. He’s killed so many other demons before, so it’s not an issue, but he hesitates whenever he thinks about bringing his blade down on your neck.

This is the same thought process he goes through every time he visits. He always stands right outside your door, gazes up at the mere size of the manor, and wonders just what the hell he thinks he’s doing. If anybody were to learn about his late night rendezvouses with a demon, he’s done for. Hell, he thinks Oyakata-sama might even be the one to slit his stomach.

He doesn’t even bother to wait for you as he enters the place you call home; much like the outside, the inside of the manor is impeccably clean and furnished with mahogany pieces and fine China. He can tell you’ve been collecting such magnificent furniture throughout your long lifespan; it always makes him awestruck to be surrounded by such wealth. He’s careful to take off his setta, silently setting them to the side as he steps up into your home.

His tabi-clad feet hardly make any noise as he ventures into the manor, looking for any signs of life. As far as he knows, there hasn’t been any other human to step foot inside this very manor while he was present. It’s when he’s away is the problem. You’re a demon, after all – you need as much sustenance as he does, maybe even more.

Before he fully realizes it, he’s walking the familiar trek to where your bedroom is. It’s almost second nature to him, always trying to find you. He shouldn’t be so eager to see a demon in the first place; it’s just plain wrong. This whole situation is wrong, but something about you brings him back, attracts him like a moth to a flame. The need to see you boils in his blood. He wants you to be by his side constantly. It’s only human nature, wanting to spend time with someone you’re attracted to, but this situation isn’t exactly what Kyojuro had in mind.

As he slides the door to your room open, the sight of your bare back greets him. Perched in front of a vanity, you dabble makeup onto your face; brilliant red smudges cover the outer corners of your eyes and your plush lips. Kyojuro can only guess how expensive the product must’ve been, judging by the hue alone. Your hair is entirely pinned up, revealing the entirety of your neck and shoulders. You look positively stunning, magnificent. Kyojuro’s throat goes dry.

“Hello, my darling slayer,” you say, a seductive lilt to your tone. You’ve always sounded like that – like fine wine mixed with smoke and honey. Setting your fine point brush down, your glowing eyes meet Kyojuro’s through the mirror. “How may I serve you tonight?”

Glancing down, Kyojuro is greeted by the sight of your perky breasts reflecting back at him. Licking his lips, he looks back up to your eyes. You smirk at him. “I wanted to see you,” he mutters. “You look beautiful.”

You coo at him, your fingers slipping the fine material of your kimono up and around your shoulders. Kyojuro is mildly disappointed by the lack of skin, but then you turn to him, your chest only partially covered. His brilliant gaze follows the curve of your waistline, how it seamlessly widens at your hips and turns into luscious thighs. Crossing your legs, the silk of your kimono flutters against your skin.

“You wanted to see me?” you purr. Slowly, you draw yourself to a graceful stand. Like this, your front becomes entirely bare under his eyes. “Kyojuro, you naughty boy.” You bat your eyelashes sultrily at him. “Get on the bed,” you husk, pointing a clawed finger to the oversized mattress. Like most of the furniture you own, it’s made of a deep mahogany, the frame standing on four sturdy legs and raising high to form a canopy. Delicate silks hang from the top, all a dainty white. It’s behind those very curtains that Kyojuro’s taken you many, many times.

Doing as he’s told, he removes his cape and sets it to the side before taking a seat at the end of the bed. The softness of the mattress beckons to him, calls for him to lie back and fall asleep. And, he will, eventually, if this is going where he thinks it is. You walk over to him, your long, confident strides making him stare at your legs. You slither on top of him, straddling his waist and linking your hands together over his shoulders. Kyojuro inhales sharply, the scent of your perfume intoxicating.

“And why did you want to see me?” you say, dragging a finger over the sharp line of his jaw. Kyojuro trembles beneath your touch; your index taps against his lower lip, a knowing expression growing on your face. “Is the big bad Flame Pillar falling for me?” you purr.

The way you flutter your lashes causes something inside of Kyojuro to snap. Instead of answering your question, his lips land on yours in pure desperation. The kiss is heated from the start; you quickly worm your tongue inside his mouth, licking up against the roof of it and Kyojuro lets you. He lets you do anything you want every time he sees you because he simply cannot get enough.

You swallow his soft groan as your hands travel down his chest, making quick work of unbuttoning his uniform’s jacket and his shirt underneath. Kyojuro’s skin has always been deliriously warm, beautifully bronzed and freckled by the sun. He sighs under your touch; it quickly turns into a slight whimper as you pull at his nipple. Your teeth tug at his bottom lip as you continuously feel up his chest, your hips gradually working into a steady rhythm against his hardening cock. He’s always been easy to work up, but with you, every single ounce of self-control he possesses flies right out the window.

“Dirty whore,” you murmur, drawing your lips away from him. “Coming back again and again to a demon. What would the others say, huh? What would they say if they could see you now? They’d see me full of your cock, fucking you stupid. You’re so bad, you filthy slut. They could kill you for this.”

At your words, a throaty groan bubbles from Kyojuro’s chest. He knows you’re absolutely right, but that’s what’s good about this whole thing. If his fellow slayers could see him getting so thoroughly used by a demon, he wouldn’t live to see another day. He grunts as you press him to his back, your luscious breasts pushing against his muscular chest. His cock tents through his hakama, the cloth growing wet from both his precum and the slick dripping from your cunt.

“Let them do whatever,” Kyojuro pants. “You’re the – fuck – one that I want.”

You mewl at his words, your sharp nails scratching at his skin. “Is that a confession? Does my little slut love me?” You laugh at the whole ridiculousness of a slayer falling in love with a demon. You move down his chest, your lips running over the ridges of his muscles and leaving stains of red all over his skin.

Kyojuro chokes on a groan as you palm him through his clothes. Ripping his belt off, you make quick work of yanking down his pants and undergarments. His cock kicks and slaps against his stomach, the head an angry red and leaking precum. Your gaze hungrily takes in the protruding veins, the neat thatch of dark pubic hair. He looks absolutely delicious.

“Tell me, Kyojuro,” you bite, your fingers wrapping around his thick cock, “do you love me?”

He doesn’t want to say. He shouldn’t say it, save himself from the impending embarrassment, but then you twist your wrist and fuck does it do something magical to him. “Y-yes,” he stutters, tongue flicking out nervously. “You’re so ­– shit, ah – wonderful and I really, really like being with you!” He keens as your other hand gently fondles his balls.

“Is that your dick talking?” you taunt. “Are you saying that because you’re a filthy whore?”

Kyojuro furiously shakes his head. His face has well surpassed red, his lips turning swollen from how much he’s chewing on them. “Even when we’re not fucking! Gods, (y/n), I love you!” He cries out as he abruptly cums, thick ropes of white shooting onto his stomach and your fingers. He pants from the force of it; his eyes widen, then, and realizes that he just came immaturely.

You click your tongue. “You got off on that?” Despite your annoyance, Kyojuro can hear the lust laced in your words.

“Yeah…” A punched-out breath fills the air as you swiftly lower your pussy onto his cock. Kyojuro’s hands make a desperate reach for your hips, but you quickly take hold of his wrists and pin them by his sides.

“So what, I don’t get to have any fun?” You flash him a mock pout. “Come on, love, show me what you got.”

Hearing the endearment roll off your tongue has Kyojuro’s cock stirring to life back inside you. Swiveling your hips, you mouth at the underside of his jaw, your teeth just barely scraping against the tender flesh. You set a steady pace, barely giving him any time to breathe while you bounce on his cock. His hips buck frantically to match your relentless pace; he whimpers from overstimulation, but fuck your cunt is so hot and wet and he feels like he’s going to explode.

“Oh, gods, please, please,” he babbles, his tongue trying to collect whatever saliva spills from his mouth. You’re fucking him so good that he’s seeing stars. He can’t control the way how his eyes roll into the back of his head or how his tongue sticks out in pure, unadulterated pleasure. “Fuck, you feel so good-“

“Am I fucking you stupid?” you ask him. Arching your back even further, your breasts drag against his torso. “Look at your pathetic face. You really are a slut, you know that? With a body like yours, it’s no wonder you bend over for anybody.”

In his euphoric state, Kyojuro shakes his head. “No, no, only for you, I promise,” he rambles. He moans loudly as the head of his cock pushes in even deeper and slams right into your cervix.

Your velvety walls suck him in with every stroke, desperate to have him inside and fuck you silly. “Who’s fucking you so good, Kyojuro.”

He groans. “You are…”

You clench even harder around his cock. “I said who.”

“You are!” he yelps, kicking his head back and spraying his cum all over your insides. You ride him through his orgasm, delighted in the way his cum seeps out around his cock and spills onto the both of you.

“That’s my good little slut,” you purr. Letting go of his wrists, you press open-mouthed kisses all over his sweaty chest. “Now make me cum, love.”

[slightlyrebelliouswriter23]

Crashing | Jurdan Fake Hating One Shot

Written for: @poeticbrownmermaid​ for my 1k celebration!

Massive thank you to: @clockworkgraystairs​ and @sweetlyvillainous​ for beta reading this and holding my hand before I posted 🥺❤️

Summary: You’ve heard of fake dating. Get ready for fake hating. It’s all very romantic.

Rating: M/E for explicit language and a short, soft focus smut scene (a steam scene, if you will). The sexy parts start and stop after the ☽☽ in case you want to skip.

Masterlist

“You taste—” I’m cut off by my own giggle, which rises to my lips like my mouth is a glass and my laugh is the Champagne they’re serving at this dumb party. “You taste like bubblegum.”

Cardan looks at me funny, then snorts. “What?”

His eyes are beguiling when they’re amused. Even more beguiling when they’re amused and looking at me. They are dark intoxication. They compete against the night sky for vastness. I could swallow them whole.

We’re on the terrace under the stars outside his fancy-pants mansion. I’m sitting on the stone railing, my knees bracketing his lithe frame. His hands and lips are breathless effervescence on me.

I’m in a daring dress of red satin that I would’ve never chosen for myself had Oriana not insisted on finding us girls a tailor. It’s an elegant, backless number with an audacious slit up the side. The whole time before this in the ballroom, I could sense Cardan’s eyes eating it up while he pretended to hate me.

In this dress, I am a femme fatale spy from a film, meeting her tryst in the secret of shadows. Which is honestly not too far off from the reality of the situation, though I am no spy.

Cardan ghosts one hand up the exposed skin of my thigh. The night air is bracing as his touch.

“Jude,” he murmurs, “Are you drunk?”

He’s in a rakish black velvet suit with two blood-red rubies dangling from the pointed tips of his collar. It is decadence and sin given form. The first hour of this hell party was just that: Hell. By the time Cardan pressed a napkin into my palm with the words “Terrace. 10 min.” scrawled on it in smeared ink, I was beginning to glare at him in earnest—if only for the way he must’ve known he was teasing me.

Now, we’re making out behind two conveniently tall potted plants.

It’s all very romantic.

“I had one glass of wine, Cardan,” I say. I slide my hands from his hair and scrape my nails lightly down the column of his neck. It is heady, watching his eyes shutter. My hands slide down his chest and take up his lapels. I give them a firm tug. “I’m fine.”

“Well, I,” he says, lips hovering over my own, “Don’t believe you.” His breath fans across my face. It really does smell like bubblegum. And not the minty kind, either. I’m talking bright pink and bubblicious.

I lean back a little and stick my bottom lip out in a mock-pout. “Why not?”

“For starters,” he says, “You’re a lightweight.” He trails that damned hand down my exposed thigh again.

I shiver. “So? I also ate like twenty of those canopy things.”

“Canapés?” Cardan smirks.

“Yeah, whatever, Your Highness.”

He flashes me a grin and I’m briefly stricken into silence. “Then, what have you to say to your unprecedented giddiness this evening, Your Majesty?”

“Ew, don’t call me that.” I grimace. “I just called you ‘Your Highness’.”

“What? Scared of the implication?”

“Uh, yeah.” My brows shoot up on my forehead. “Mainly because it implies that I’m your mother.”

Cardan’s face goes slack. “Shit, really?”

I nod and bite back my grin.

“I thought they were interchangeable.”

“About as interchangeable as a fork and a spoon.”

He sputters a laugh. “Shows what I know about royalty.”

“You realise how ironic that is, don’t you?” I say, nodding pointedly in the direction of the party.

It goes on without us, spilling its mirth in great golden shafts out onto the terrace. It doesn’t touch us, though. The air is cool, clear of the preening bullshit that so regularly lathers these kinds of events. And though he makes me dizzy, Cardan is the only real thing here.

I think I like parties better this way. From the shadows. In there, we’d have to talk to people, explain ourselves. We’re supposed to hate each other. We were always supposed to hate each other.

A smile plays at the corners of Cardan’s lips as if he’s gleaned these thoughts of mine. “You haven’t answered my question.”

I narrow my eyes. “You think I’m too giddy to not be drunk.”

“Mhmm.” He nudges his nose against mine. “I’ve never heard you giggle before.” A slender finger tracks up my spine and it takes a considerable amount of concentration not to squeeze my thighs together. Goosebumps and a flush spring to my skin, anyway. “It’s delightful,” he tells me.

“Well, maybe you should work on your sense of humour.” My voice comes out shakier than I want it to.

“Maybe,” Cardan says, grabbing the back of my knee and hitching it up. “But that sounds like effort.”

I want to roll my eyes. This is exactly the reason we used to hate each other. His laziness, his arrogance, and entitlement made me want to punch him clean across his pretty cheekbones. I know my stubbornness and sharp tongue made him hate me right back.

Yet, when our worlds crumbled around us, we found ourselves crashing into each other. Entwined in a thicket of mutual understanding. Suddenly, there was so very little to hate.

We pretend to in public to keep up appearances. Everyone knows we hated each other. If we started being friendly around everyone else, people would talk. That’s the last thing we want. Even if they’d technically be right.

In private, though, Cardan is probably my most closely held secret.

Don’t get me wrong, he’s still annoying as all hell. Like right now. But I’ve always liked a challenge.

I hook my leg around his back, pulling him in. My fingers card through his hair again. “I can be delightful in other ways,” I say, biting my lip.

His eyes lower to my mouth. “Oh, I’m well aware.” Cardan’s voice comes out a rasp. He cants my chin with the crook of his finger, pulling my lip from between my teeth with the pad of his thumb. He looks at me with undiluted lust. The weight of his gaze is like a dizzying nightmare.

Then, he devours me.

Our mouths slide together, slowly at first, but building in fervor. Hot and heavy, like a fever. His grip on my thigh is bruising. His other hand splays across my bare back, crushing me to him, long fingers twining in my hair. Everything turns saturated and slow.

I invade his mouth with my tongue, determined to drink him up. He tastes like bubblegum and our reconciliation. At the same time, I hook my other leg behind him so he’s pressed flush against the apex of my thighs. ☽☽

A muffled groan rolls between his teeth. “Fuck, Jude.” Cardan is growing firm beneath his trousers. The feel of it sends a curl of sweet desire, dark and throbbing, through my core.

“You’re going to have to be quieter than that,” I tease. I’m so featherbrained on the savour of his mouth, his liquid touch. My veins feel full of amber liquor instead of blood. I know I’m not drunk, and yet I feel it.

His fingers drawl back up my leg. “The question is, dear,” he says, “Can you be quiet?” The coolness of his hands sends a shock along the heat of my inner thigh.

I realise where he’s going with this and my breath hitches. My cheeks blaze. “Yes,” I tell him, though I don’t sound as confident as I should for such a high stakes rendezvous.

“Hmm,” Cardan thrums. “We’ll see about that.”

His fingers are deft and twice as sly. He hisses through his teeth when they glide over me, exploring.

As a steady rain, he begins my unravelling. His mouth covers mine, swallowing a soft whimper that escapes my throat. I want to moan his name, to curse aloud, but I can’t if we’re to stay hidden.

The thought is both terrible and exciting at once.

Cardan keeps a torturous pace. I cling to him, panting, clutching at his arms, clawing at his back. His mouth roams my jawline. His teeth tug my ear. My mind is frenetic, frenzied, and at once thick in a viscous haze.

All I can think about is how this party is so stupid and soul-sucking, but Cardan is the farthest thing from stupid and soul-sucking. About how he makes me feel very much alive. About how I like him more than anyone here, probably more than even myself.

His other arm wraps certain and solid around me as he spins my world on its side. I lean my forehead on his shoulder. He kisses my neck. I can’t help the gasps that leave me.

My heart is racing. So quickly does it pump, in time with his ministrations, I think I might turn to white lightning in a bottle before all is said and done.

I know it when I’m drawing towards that precipice. My toes curl and flex. My legs begin to quiver. My knees lock up.

“Cardan,” I gasp. “Please.”

“Can you be quiet for me, Jude?” Cardan murmurs rough against my ear. He sounds a little breathless, too.

I am so muddled, I am so close. I can only manage a soft sob in response. Now he’s doubling his efforts and oh, gods is he clever.

I bite his shoulder to keep from making a sound as I shoot over the edge, a wondrous arc so high I’m sure I scrape the stars of their dust.

My hips writhe against his palm. I pull and rake my fingers through his hair as I spiral through the five stages of sweet delirium.

He holds me through it. Presses his lips to my hair and whispers what I think must be comforting things into my ear. I can’t tell because I’m incapable of comprehending much of anything beyond myself in his arms. He strokes soft circles over my back until it’s done. ☽☽

When everything settles, I’m still clinging to him, my forehead against the sureness of his shoulder. A sheen of sweat dewing my skin.

I’ve always hated this part about intimacy. The aftermath. Everything is too quiet. The excitement is gone. You’re faced with the reality of looking at each other without the rosy filter of lust. Maybe you’ll see each other for who you really are, and that’s a scary thought.

That’s probably how I felt once with Cardan, too. Back when we started…whatever this is. But now, in this moment with him, it feels less vulnerable and more like holding someone’s hand as you stare upon something a little terrifying.

Which is why I’m able to look up at him and ask in every manner of seriousness, “Why do you taste like bubblegum?”

His responding laugh is gentle and he shakes his head. “One-track mind,” he says. I shrug and wait.

“They’re serving bubblegum cocktails at the bar inside.”

My nose crinkles. “You actually drank one of those?”

“Don’t knock it till you try it.”

“No, I think I’ll sleep quite soundly if I never do.”

Cardan gives me an awful kind of grin that makes my toes curl anew. “Didn’t hear you complaining earlier.”

I bite the inside of my cheek. “That’s different.”

“Is it?” he says, then tucks a loose curl behind my ear. “I happen to like bubblegum cocktails.”

I give him a dubious look. I can’t help but feel that maybe we’re not talking about bubblegum cocktails anymore.

For a long moment, we just sit there staring at each other. There’s a bloom of laughter from inside the house. The clink of glasses. His eyes trace the lines of my face. I still feel drunk on him and he’s looking at me too soberly.

So I say, “You have shit taste, then,” and hop off the railing. I side-step him before beginning the task of smoothing down my dress. If I walk back into the party all flushed and disheveled, people will know what I’ve been doing—which is almost as bad as if people knew who I’ve been doing.

“Oh, you can’t say that dear,” Cardan lilts as he leans back against the balcony with all the insouciance of someone who lives in this ridiculous mansion. And rightly so, because he does. “Not when you taste equally delicious.” Then he brings his fingers, the ones that have just been inside me, to his mouth and closes his lips around them, burning gaze locked on mine.

My eyes go wide. My jaw slacks as I watch him. I’m somewhere between affronted by his audacity and completely turned on again. Which is a confusing place to be.

He laughs at my probably very foolish expression and I turn on my heel to head back to the party. I’m not actually offended. I just can’t bear to look at him while he’s tasting me off his fingers without combusting on the spot.

Cardan grabs my wrist. “Wait, wait,” he says, still laughing.

I arc a brow and turn to face him. “I’m waiting.”

“I’m sorry,” he says and sounds earnest enough. “It’s just… you make me giddy, too.”

His words are a punch to the gut. I hadn’t realised it until he said it, but it’s true. It’s not the way he kisses me or the high of a climax, though those are surely nice things, too. It’s the way I feel when we’re together. Just his presence makes my head swim, my stomach turn flips.

He makes me feel a little bit invincible, and entirely beyond reason.

I look at him, the warm glow of the party playing off the sharp angles of his face. He’s still holding my hand, fiddling with the ruby ring I always wear.

On the crest of a breath, Cardan says, “Stay tonight.”

“Why?” I whisper, because we’ve never spent the night. I’m not sure we’d even know how.

“Because I’ll miss you terribly?”

A smile tugs at my lips. “I think you’ll survive.”

“Because you’ll miss me terribly.”

“Oh, I’ll definitely survive,” I say. Even as my heart gives a squeeze. I don’t want to leave.

Not yet, not yet.

“Because you’re too intoxicated to drive home,” he says.

“I took an Uber here, Cardan,” I tell him. “And for the last time, I’m not drunk.”

“I’m not saying you’re drunk, Jude.”

He’s not grinning at me, which I think is a good sign. It means he’s not hinting at something sexual. Then again, that might also be a very bad sign. It means he’s hinting at something deeper. I’m not sure I want to get into that conversation just yet.

“Fine,” I say. I do want to stay. The thought of it sends a little thrill through me. “Hate me for an hour more. We’ll have a big argument about… something. And then I’ll tell Madoc I’m leaving.”

His hands snake around my waist. “What will we argue about tonight?”

I smile at him sweetly. “If your head is half as cunning as your fingers, I’m sure you’ll think of something.”

Cardan hums. “I do love it when we’re at each other’s throats.”

I roll my eyes but I’m betrayed by my laugh for not the first time tonight. Stupid punch-drunk feelings.

☽☽☽☽☽

Enjoyed this? Try:  King  |  Wicked Game  |  We’re All Mad Here

Masterlist

AN: So this was supposed to be a drabble for my 1k celebration but my hand slipped and whoops! It’s 2.5K words. I really hope you enjoyed this secret tryst one shot. I had so much fun writing it. If you liked this and want to see more from me, comments and/or reblogs are very much appreciated!

I have a tag list so if you’d like to be added to that, let me know in the comments/my messages/inbox and I’d be happy to add you! I also recently jumped on the Twitter/Instagram bandwagon. You can follow me @/rebelwriter23 on Twitter and @/slightlyrebelliouswriter23 on Instagram.

Back to the forest now. -Em 🖤💫

Title Inspo: Crashing- Illenium

Tag List: @velarhysismine​ @knifewifejude​ @the-mithridatism-of-jude-duarte​ @clockworkgraystairs​ @thesirenwashere​ @judexcardanxgreenbriar​ @nite0wl29​ @aelin-queen-of-terrasen​ @whocares-idont​ @babycardan @sweetlyvillainous​ @aesthetics-11​ @storiesandschemes​ @jurdanhell​ @poeticbrownmermaid​ @thechainofiron​ @random-llama-socks​ @villanellevi​ @lady-thea-of-narnia​ @b00kworm​ @flowersinvegas​ @vanessa172003​ @cardanstrickytail​ @queen-of-glass​ @doingmyrainbow​ @words-of-the-wise​ @scarznstars​ @charincharge​ @fizziefaerie​ @fateandluminary​ @tessas-herondales​ @styles-taylor​ @jyoti96​ @losssssstttttt​ @transbordeamento​ @katsemkitgostadetog @gloriouspalacebakerylawyer​ @woodsbeyond1​ @hizqueen4life​ @highqueenjudeduarte​ @m-like-magic1-blog​ @dorkzrul​ @whataboutmyfries​ @livelovereading123​ @queenofgreenbriar​ @ireallyshouldsleeprn​ @lifeminuspickles​ @df3ndyr​ @christalpaez @aknymph​ @iammissstark​ @disco-tits1​ @star-flecked-soul​

[gallickingun]

keep my secrets safe

Summary: Bakugou hates covert work. And he’s hungry. But also, apparently he talks in his sleep? 

Pairing: Bakugou Katsuki x Reader Rated: T Warning: language, etc. Word Count: 1,702

bakugou’s birthday party has begun! see here for more info!

“I can’t believe I got stuck on stake-out duty again.”

“I can’t believe they stuck me with you again.”

Bakugou growls, slumping further down in his seat, resting his head on his fists. He’s completely stretched out in the front passenger’s seat, legs sprawled out, fast food wrappers on the floor and a half-empty cup of coffee starting to go cold in his cup holder. You keep your eyes glued to the building across the street where you’re waiting for the final piece of evidence to fall into place so you can arrest a particularly dangerous set of villains.

“And they say I’m a pain in the ass,” Bakugou grumbles, kicking at the tinfoil wrapped beneath his feet. He closes his eyes, “I should be asleep right now.”

You nod in the general direction of the nightclub across the street, “I’m sure if we just go in there and tell them to commit their crimes so you can put on your pajamas, they’ll totally listen!”

The telltale sound of Bakugou’s hands crackling, body itching to display his quirk so you might be the slightest bit intimidated by him, echoes against the windows and you wince, “Seriously?”

“You’re so annoying,” Bakugou curls his fists back together, shutting down the fireworks. He crosses his arms over his chest, resting his head against the window, “This is so stupid, I hate covert work.”

You look through the binoculars again, focusing intently on the various entrances, “It’s because you’re the worst hero possible for covert work. You literally blow things up.”

He goes quiet, so you take advantage of the silence to start really surveying the area. You pinpoint the different exits and make sure to watch the rooftop for any villains with wings or quirks that may allow them to stay so high in the air. Your eyes track over every surface of the buildings and you keep track on a small notepad the number of guards and their rotation schedules.

“S’hungry,” Bakugou mumbles from the passenger seat.

You chuckle, “I told you to get two burgers, but you wouldn’t listen.”

He whines out the word again and you hear his body shift on the leather. You don’t dare take your eyes off of the nightclub as the next round of guards switch out with the prior group. “Bakugou, I didn’t eat my whole sandwich. You can have the rest.”

A string of incoherent words passes from his lips but you don’t pay him any mind. He likes to piss you off, you think, so of course he’d say something about being hungry but not take you up on your offer to feed him what little you have. However, you won’t allow him to distract you from this important mission.

To him it may seem like a nuisance, something that he has to do to get through the day, but this is an opportunity for you. It is an opening into a better agency if you’re able to prove yourself, which is why you pray that Bakugou can behave himself for one night until you can capture the criminal activity going on in the nightclub. And then you’ll let him loose, allowing him to use his quirk to blast whoever he wants.

“Pisces sushi sounds good,” Bakugou’s words slur together, his feet pushing around on the floorboards. You sigh, turning your head just enough so he can know that you’re acknowledging him, “Katsuki, now is not the time to think about sushi.”

“So good!” he whines, “So hungry.”

The next hour passes in silence, which you’re thankful for. You can only take so much of Bakugou’s sarcastic attitude and snarky remarks.

However, in the quiet, your mind starts to wander. You think of the reason you started your Pro Hero journey - your desire to save people stemming from the death of your parents. You swore to yourself as a child that you would use your abilities to save others so no child would have to grow up alone like you. 

You tilt your head, leaning back on the car headrest, “Why did you become a Pro Hero?”

The only response you get is the echo of crickets outside the car. You groan to yourself; you knew that Bakugou didn’t have the emotional maturity to have a full length conversation about anything semi-sensitive.

A quick retort sits on your tongue, begging for you to burst, but he surprises you with a small response only milliseconds before you’ve opened your lips.

“Protection. Saving.” Bakugou’s voice is clipped, but you’ll take what you can get. He coughs and out of the corner of your eye you see him shift uncomfortably in the front seat.

You bite down on the corner of your lip, adjusting the binoculars so you can see closer, gathering more details about the various villains guarding the nightclub. A small inhale parts your lips, “Wow, not what I expected.”

“I wan’ to make people feel safe,” he’s slurring his words but you are sure he’s just tired. You chuckle, a blush painted on the tops of your cheeks at his admission - you didn’t think he had such kindness within him, let alone the humility to let it leak through in the form of words. Bakugou swallows audibly, “The way All Might made me feel safe.”

The binoculars rest on your chest now, your nails busied with the base of your cuticles. You can’t believe he’s baring himself to you in this way. The only time you’ve ever heard Bakugou talk openly about All Might is when he’s swearing up and down that he’ll surpass him as Number One Pro Hero. Of course, the veteran has since retired, but Bakugou still holds him to a level above all the others.

“I think that’s very noble of you, Bakugou.”

There is a beat of quiet before his mouth opens again, “I miss Kiri.”

Your jaw drops at his blatant admission, but there is a sound of gunfire from across the road and the two of you spring into action. Bakugou blasts himself forward using his quirk, slamming into the thugs outside before storming the building.

The two of you make quick work of the villains, your backup arriving only a few minutes after you’re tying up the head crook. You hand him off to the cops and step to where Bakugou is leaned against your rental car, “So, how about something to eat? You had to have burned a lot of calories in that fight.”

“Sure, I guess I could eat,” Bakugou grumbles, wringing his hands together. You notice the faint lingering smell of ashen sweetness and you’re reminded of his quirk and the way it works. You smile, “Pisces Sushi sound good?”

His eyes go wide, “Pisces is a hole in the wall - how’d you find out about it?!”

You take a step towards him, looking at him closer with your head tilted, eyeing him up and down, “Did you hit your head?”

“What the he-no!”

“You told me about Pisces, you idiot,” you kick at his shin gently with the toe of your boot, “how else would I know about it?”

Bakugou’s face turns pink at the apples of his cheeks. He turns his eyes downward, watching as he kicks around a few pieces of large gravel with the sole of his shoe, “My mom and I used to go there together. J-Just us. I’ve never told anyone about that place, no one ‘cept Kiri.”

You’re invading his space now, his senses heightened when your closeness makes his temperature sky rocket. You brush your thumb along his jawline, inspecting his face carefully, “Are you feeling okay?”

“Yes, dumbass,” Bakugou swats your hand away, but there’s no malice in his action, “I’m fine. Why are you acting weird?”

“It’s just-” You take a breath and his eyes are drawn to the way your chest swells, “You were talking to me in the car about food and Kiri and All Might, so I just thought that maybe-”

“Woah, wait,” Bakugou grabs you by the biceps, “what the hell? I would never say anything about Shitty Hair, not in public. Unless I was roasting him on a spit. What did I say?”

His sudden interest in the things that came out of his own mouth is intriguing, but also a little disturbing. Your browns knit together, “Uh, you said you wanted to be a hero like All Might, and you said you missed Kirishima?”

A string of cuss words fall from Bakugou’s mouth, grating against his throat, “Well, damn.”

The two of you do end up at Pisces Sushi-

-for the next couple of years.

Every Tuesday night you meet up after patrol, and he introduces you to another sushi roll you hadn’t tried yet. Of course he admonishes you, teasing you relentlessly about your uncultured view of the world. After all, who hasn’t tried a spicy tempura roll before? 

And later, much later, you’re staying up long after him when you hear it again. 

It isn’t the first time since the stakeout, that was years ago, but it still makes your heart flutter nonetheless. He’s facing you, lips slackened from sleep, and the words are soft, so quiet that you can barely hear them in the safety of your bedroom.

“I love you.”

It’s not something you don’t already know, and it’s definitely not something that he doesn’t tell you whenever he can get over his pride long enough to admit that you’re everything he’s ever needed and more. But, somehow, in the quiet darkness that lays over the both of you like a shadow, it means so much more.

Subconsciously, in his state of dreaming, he’s thinking about you still. His thoughts are on you day and night, and it’s only secured even further by the way he reaches out for you in his slumber. Bakugou’s hands are warm as he taps your rib cage, the entirety of his palm spanning the distance of your side. 

You plant a kiss on his head, threading your legs through his as you listen to his soft snores overtake his voice once again.

“I love you too, Katsuki.”

Even if he doesn’t hear you, something within your heart tells you to say it anyway.

-

taglist - @kamehamethot @simplybakugou @lady-bakuhoe @todorki-shoto @redhawtriot @burnedbyshoto @cookies-n-chaos @katsukisprincess @rat-suki @bitchtrynafck @cutesuki--bakugou @k-atsukidayo @bnhatrashh @succulent-momma @multifandom-fanfic @that-one-enthusiast @cutest-celestial-princess @blue-peach14 @pastel-prynce @bokunokangae @shoutodoki @bakuoushoe @tenyaingenium @lxvely-mha @myherorambles @ramen-rambles @honeytama​ @bratwritings​ @samanthaa-leanne​ @orokayagi​ @tumblingintothefeelstrain​ @sunbeamwrites​ @bnhawritten​ @bnhasidebin​ @lovekatsukibakugo​ @aizawamirite​ @yuueimagines​ @plusultrawritings​ @bnha-violetnote​ @suckersuki​ @bnha-mha-imagines​ @heroesreverie​ @pink-imagines​ @brattyquirks​ @lookslikeleese​ @normiewrites​ @secondhand-trash​ @yaoyorozuwrites​ @pinkjeanist​

[mangop1e]

my Thoughts about mcc14, because this is my blog and the official year of no cringe (in that i will no longer regard my interests as cringe and enjoy them wholeheartedly and post about them if i want)

overall !! it was a really fun event, i was watching blue bats punz pov and they popped off so it was a really good watch for me, the updates to the games were sick as hell and i cannot wait to see these get more refined as we go along plus see what they have in store for bingo and sands of time

putting everything else below the cut for the sake of all the mutuals i have on here that have never interacted with a mcyt in their life! 

so. will preface this by saying i’ve watched every mcc live starting with mcc9 and am . just very very into this tournament, i’ll probably do a little analysis post next mcc because i just find it all very fun !! and tumblr is like a void i can scream into and sometimes it screams back so it’s the perfect place to let myself ramble. that being said, here’s my thoughts on this mcc from the blue bats punz pov, with vague knowledge of what happened in a few other povs

build mart: so sue me, i’m a build mart fan. the new map build is INCREDIBLE and i love the choice of elytras rather than the scuffed boats!! the new addition of the golden build is really fun too! not something that could necessarily be changed but build mart is definitely a killer for teams that don’t have good comms and coordination, and having it as a first game can really shake some teams and cause a drop in morale that could affect the rest of their performance in the event. overall, though? im loyal to build mart and i think it only got better with the updates

tgttosawaf: i love how pedantically long that acronym is <3 i think some of the changes really threw players into the deep end, that one round where they had to break the wool in the targets to get through especially, and terra swoop force Definitely threw some players that are otherwise cracked for a loop, especially if they were unfamiliar with the map, but this one was also super fun to watch!! definitely a good game for the first half of the event

sky battle: at long last, sky battle returns <3 as a shameless inniter sky battle is one of my favourite games simply because i Know tommy will always pop off, but it’s also such a fun twist on classic minigames like sky wars and a faster version of skyblockle done super well! i like the new map layout a ton as well, the little towers in the middle ring plus the structure of the innermost ring made for some really interesting plays all around. this game’s another one that can go south really fast if your team comms aren’t great, but definitely more forgiving than build battle, and a hell of a lot more adrenaline-inducing!! in terms of the updates i think this one was probably one of the best, tied with build mart.

survival games: survival games was CRAZY i do think this is one where you need to get good rng with your loot pickups as well as have good team coordination but it’s definitely a really fun pvp game!! only thing i will say is it can be a bit bland next to the rest of the crazy games in mcc but it’s definitely a classic and depending on how its played (cough red rabbits cough) can definitely turn things wayyyy around for a team!! very high stakes in a fun way

hole in the wall: god :sob: the glitch. ohhhh hbomb you and your glitchy ways. this glitch was definitely a new one compared to the usual “spam-space-bar-and-pray” glitch that our dearest tommyinnit has taken advantage of before, but i honestly can’t really blame him too much for using it? it did give aqua an advantage but it’s only slightly different from falsesymmetry using the spam-space glitch to win a few rounds of hitw in a more recent mcc (would have to double check which one, but i do remember hbomb taking note of this when he was reviewing mcc vods the day after). hole in the wall has been a glitchy bastard for as long as it’s been in mcc and it was truly hilarious to see hbomb clip through walls, so - all in all i think if the glitch could be fixed that’d be great but it was still a fun watch! also, pete zahutt is CRACKED.

ace race: whoo boy. ace race. honest opinion? i think the map is REALLY cool and has a lot of potential, but there was a lot of confusion and bugs that need to be fixed for next time - the fact that the players could reset back to a previous checkpoint, the general confusion over where to go which cld mean they need to add more directional arrows. overall i’m really really excited to see how people will perform on this map when they’re more familiar with it and some of the kinks have been worked out on the developer end. i do think scott had a Huge advantage here and it was really prominent due to the fact that this was a new map for everyone aside from him, albeit him seeing a much earlier version that wasn’t the same as the version that existed in the event, and it would definitely be wise of noxcrew and the developing team in the future to be more aware of how much involvement scott has in the gameplay side of testing. the general confusion and checkpoint resetting also did Not help anyone and i do think a few teams really lost out this event because of the issues with ace race, but this map has a ton of potential and im really excited to see what they do with it in the future.

battle box: oooo battle box !! this one didn’t really leave too big of an impression on me but the new map was definitely interesting!! the fact that the way to get to the middle was a bit unclear was ,, definitely interesting to watch :sob: but you can’t go wrong with battle box to be honest. solid team pvp game!

parkour tag: PARKOUR TAG!!! having this as the final game was so fun :] the map they had this time was complicated which definitely comes with its pros and cons: pros being that it creates potential for a lot of really interesting routes and unique usage of the area and environment, and cons being that it can feel really cluttered and overwhelming especially when its your first time playing. overall i liked the fact that it was busier but i think striking a better balance between full and barren could really elevate parkour tag from a good game to a great game

dodgebolt: blue bats </3 they had a fantastic run in the games and had an awful dodgebolt and sometimes that’s how it shakes down !! i always always love the unpredictability to the final winner that dodgebolt gives - the first place team pointswise isnt guaranteed a win, reverse sweeps have happened multiple times in the past, and dodgebolt is always nail-bitingly exciting to watch!

misc thoughts: i do think aqua had an advantage but from the sounds of things scott and noxcrew will be taking genuine criticism into account for next time and have learned from this event, i DONT think that removing parkour warrior was unfair because it wasn’t an event that noxcrew could ever successfully balance by making it hard enough to not have the same guy dominating every event and creating a gap, especially when played later, that no other players had HOPE of reducing and i think parkour tag was a really really fun alternative to it especially since runner and hunter play to diff strengths of the team members and it has a bit more strategy to it plus team comms than parkour warrior did, and i think build mart is a good game and i WILL die on this hill

if you read this far, fantastic, you madlad, i appreciate you

[angelicmichael]

Hey! What about 12 from the kiss prompts with Hawthorne!michael? If you like?

A/N: Thank you for requesting this 💖 I made it a little long (and added a slutty makeout scene lmao) so I hope you don’t mind! This fic kinda flip flops between fluff and angst also, so fair warning hehe. More thots will be in the tags! Enjoy <3 ALSO Michael is 18+ in this and so is Reader 😇 okay bye

~

You and Michael haven’t talked in weeks. You knew the new school he’d been attending, Hawthorne, kept him impossibly busy since he was basically considered a child prodigy there. You knew from the letters and messages he used to consistently send you that he was basically treated like some type of god; but it had been a while since you had heard from him at all. You just really fucking missed your boyfriend.

The anxiety of him not being in contact with you for so long seemed to only amplify your feelings of how much you missed him, and it had you worried sick.

At first you blamed him being unresponsive due to him being busy but it got to the point where it started to eat away you - you couldn’t think about anything else. All you thought about was Michael. You trusted him of course but, you knew due to his naturally clingy nature that something serious had to be happening for him to ignore and neglect you for this long.

So.. that led you to where you were now.

The air was cool and damp on your skin as you swiftly moved closer and closer to Hawthorne school. You had lost track of the exact time hours ago, but you knew instinctively it was probably midnight - maybe even past. The world was currently pitch black, the moon set high in the sky was your only source of light - which led you to stumble rather clumsily through the night. Hawthorne was isolated enough but not too isolated, Just far enough away from the city to let some of the stars peak through and shine bright through the evening sky.

You approached the talk, dark building - stealthily slipping inside; praying that no one happened to be awake.. except for Michael.

You knew there was a very good chance of him being asleep, he wasn’t expecting you after all. Fuck; you really weren’t even planning on seeing him until just a couple hours ago. This whole visit was unbelievably last minuete, but you really couldn’t help it. You atleast needed to see him, to know he was okay.

You heard the rumors of what was happening with Michael, who he was supposedly going to take the seven wonders test but you know he wouldn’t hide something that big from you.. right? You even came to terms with what to do if Michael didn’t want to see you; if him ignoring you for two weeks was some pathetic scheme to just break up with you - but you needed to know for sure. You wanted to make sure that you daydreaming about kissing him during the day when you had better things to do was foolish or all for not. You needed to know he was still yours.

The soft colored pallete of the interior of Hawthorne seemed to only agitate your pre existing anxiety. The bare, undesigned walls forced you to focus on what was at stake here - no pretty paintings or pretty colors to take your mind off of things. The bare ness and almost.. sterile.. atomsphere this place gave off almost reminded you of a hospital, which only sent chills down your spine.

You turned a corner, not sure where exactly to turn too - you didn’t think this part through, you’ve never been to Hawthorne before. Michael had talked about it to you plenty of times; boasting about his powers and how everyone treated him here but.. he never gave any details of the layout or where his room is.. there was no need for him too.

You felt your stomach drop once you heard echoey footsteps - immeaditly you whipped your head around, thinking it was someone behind you but.. there was nothing. Just the long empty, bare hallway.

You shook your head, feeling slightly disoriented before taking a couple steps forward - trying to shake this slightly unsettling feeling that seemed to sit in your stomach when your turned around and gasped. Loudly.

Seeing another human in front of you when there previously was no one made adrenaline shoot through your veins - but pure euphoria seemed to immeaditly chase the feeling once you actually registered who it was. The nearly combed blonde hair and the bright blue eyes gave it away; It was Michael.

You couldnt help but notice a gleam in his eye and how the way the corner of his mouth was slightly upturned in a smirk. Could he be happy to see you? However you reflexively took a couple steps back - you couldn’t help but feel that was a mistake when you noticed him wince.

“Michael, I was looking for you-“

“Shh”. Michael responsed, cutting you off.

Your eyebrows furrowed - immeaditly offended that the first thing he did when he hasn’t seen you in weeks is to shush you but he quickly grabbed your hand and led you off.

You stumbled behind him, trusting him as you followed him to god knows where he was dragging you too.

He didn’t take you too far; he quickly pulled you around the corner of the hallway before harshly shoving you into the wall. You gasped again, this time out of pain and embarrassingly a bit of pleasure.

Michael nearly immeaditly pressed his mouth to yours, resulting in a very wet open mouthed kiss. French kissing was rarely your forte, but; you hadn’t seen Michael in weeks so the last thing you were worried about was being gross. You were incredibly happy that he even wanted to see you - let alone makeout with you. You supposed this meant that you two were on good terms atleast.

You felt his hands roughly grip your arms, his nails slightly digging into your skin which should’ve hurt but instead only made you want him even more. His body was pressed tight against yours, leaving your back pressed up against the cool wall. With his arms around you and the way he hungrily kissed you, you almost felt trapped but you knew you were safe with him.

The smell and taste of him drove you wild; your hand went up to his hair, slightly tugging on his tousled blonde locks - not wanting him to stop. Too in bliss to even consider the reality of the situation. How you two were basically eating others face in the hallway of his highly prestigious school.

You barely even noticed when you felt one of his hands leave your arm and travel quickly down your side, gently slipping under your shirt. Just as you felt his hand start to travel up you broke off the kiss, immeaditly having to bite your lip in order to stifle a moan. His hand was only at about your stomach, close to your waist - you supposed it was the skin to skin contact that made you so needy. You missed this.

“Miss me”? You heard Michael say.

The way he seemed to pinpoint exactly what you were thinking was almost creepy at times but you simply blamed it on him knowing you so well.

“Of course I have, Michael”. You replied back quickly.

You felt kind of stunned that he would even question how much you missed him or your feelings for him and this started to send your mind into a state of panic. Were you never affectionate enough? Should you have came to seen Michael sooner instead of waiting two fucking weeks before doing anything but, again, as if he knew what you were thinking- he cut off your nearly manic train of thought by placing his hand on your arm softly; bringing you back to reality. Your gaze met his - and you nearly drowned staring into his cerulean blue eyes.

He didn’t even have to say anything at this point to calm you down; just staring at him and finally being in his presence was enough to make you feel safe and comforted.. almost in a serene state where no bad thoughts could linger in your mind. Even though no words really had to be spoken between you two he chose to speak anyway.

“Hey. Look, I’ve been really busy-“

“-your taking the seven wonders, arent you”? You cut him off.

You knew there was a high possibility of him having to take the test; and you really couldn’t think of what else would be keeping Michael so busy. It was painfully obvious he wasn’t cheating on you now.

You looked at Michael and you couldn’t help but almost laugh at his facial expression. He looked completly shocked; his mouth slightly ajar which quickly turned into a uncomfterable smile as he tried to laugh it off.

“Yeah.. I am actually. I take it tommorow”. He said.

“Tommorow? Are you sure your even ready? How could you not tell me sooner”?! You said, talking quickly.

You knew how your words could sound offensive but you didn’t really care; you were just in pure shock. How could Michael already take the seven wonders? The same test that was notorious for being dangerous and even claiming lives. The fear and anxiety you felt quickly morphed into anger.

You weren’t really sure what you were expecting Michael to do; maybe to storm off or to tell you to fuck off and leave - or something in between but instead he merely approached you. His arms wrapped around your frame and he buried his face into your neck.

You were speechless.

Out of all the reactions you were expecting him to have; it definetly wasn’t this. At first you just stood there; not really knowing what to do so you reluctantly wrapped your arms around him and stroked his back - one of your hands finding and tracing his spine. You felt him lean into your touch ever so slightly, and you couldn’t help but relish in this feeling of him again. His scent filling your nostrils, feeling his body against yours was incredibly comforting but this didn’t change the reality of tommorow. You felt your stomach start to drop again at the thought of what Michael taking the test really meant.

You knew how unlikely and irrational it was to imagine things that weren’t even a reality yet but.. you knew deep down that this could very well be the last time you would ever see Michael. Last time you would see, hold, kiss or even talk to him. You felt your throat start to tighten as you very poorly tried your best to hold back tears. You knew Michael was incredibly gifted when it came to his powers but you couldn’t stop being anxious and thinking about the worst. You know understood why he didn’t tell you this previously or contacted you in the past weeks. You supposed this way his way of saying how he was scared too for tomorrow and you couldn’t really blame him for that.

“Are you okay”? You asked.

You felt him suddenly pull away from you, his hands still lingering on your arms. You were half expecting for there to be tears in his eyes when he pulled away and sure his eyes looked a little wet but if anything.. pulling apart only exposed your state of being - not his.

The tears you were trying so fucking hard to hold in, pathetically spilt and ran hotly down your cheeks. You took in a sharp inhale, your breathing now incredibly uneven and rapid due to crying. The way Michael was holding you by your arms made it impossible for you to hide your tears, so instead you pathetically stared at the ground - too embarrassed to even meet his eyes.

“Darling.. look at me”. Michael instructed. His voice was soft but held a certain authority to it, enough to make you actually listen and look up.

“I’m going to be fine tommorow. There’s no need to be sad or worried, if anything we should be celebrating. I’m going to be the first alpha and by this time tommorow we’ll be celebrating. Okay? I promise”. Michael said, as he enveloped you into a hug.

You immeaditly reprocipricated it, not really wanting to let go because you knew how fucking foolish you sounded. Although, you still knew it was a valid fear and something to still be mindful of that could be a real possiblility. After all, even though he seemed completely confident about tommorow you knew he was scared too.

You were the first to let go of the hug. You knew it was already ridiculously late and that you should be going if you wanted Michael or yourself to get any sleep. You brushed off the couple of tears that still remained on the bottom parts of your cheeks before replying to him.

“I’m sorry I got upset, I didn’t mean to-“

“No, it’s okay. I’m sorry I didn’t see you (y/n), you shouldn’t be apologizing”. He stated.

Michael quickly stepped forward to place a kiss on the corner of your mouth.

“No matter what happens tommorow I promise I’ll see you”. Michael said.

Your chest slightly tightened at those words but you quickly brushed the feeling off and blinked the annoying upcoming tears away.

“Bye Michael. Be careful”. You said before quickly turned around and nearly running while you wiped the tears off of your cheek with your sleeve.

You ran through the hallways of Hawthorne, knowing you would probably get lost in the never ending hallways that all looked identical but soon enough you found the door that led outside. You couldn’t help but feel kind of dissapointed that all that was left was to wait for tommorow for Michael to take the test; and to pray to god you would see him again.

Tags: @mina672 @michaellangdonstanaccount @langdonsexual @jimmason @blakewaterxx @thewarriorprincessxo @dark-mei-rose @9layerdevilfoodcake @prophecy-is-inevitable

[amydancepants-peralta]

mr mendes just released a new song & i was wondering if you could write something inspired by the line: "i wonder what it's like to be loved by you" 😌✨

Ericaaa I loved this prompt! 💕 Of course I had to throw in some Pining because it’s so good ... hope you enjoy! (here it is on AO3)

to be loved by you 

It’s a secret to absolutely no-one that Amy Santiago is the kind of woman that likes to excel in any skillset.  Unapologetic in her badass-ery, she can (and has) chase a perp through the boroughs of Brooklyn in boots that have a higher heel than three of her male colleagues put together.  Her finely tuned memory - the same one that has led Trivia Newton John to seven straight victories - helped solve a series of long-dead case files, and her problem solving skills are the reason that one of the city’s biggest kingpins is currently behind bars.   

With this in mind, one could consider it safe to say that Amy regretting her natural ability to ace any situation would be up there with hell freezing over, or for a flock of pigs to soar across the sky. 

But tonight, here in Shaw’s bar as she watches Jake have what seems to be a lovely date with Sophia; Amy just might be, if only maybe a little, slightly regretting her highly graded observation skills (yes, the same ones that pushed her into the highest percentile when graduating from the academy - which she very rarely brags about, and she really should - it was mentioned in the commissioners speech and everything).  

To be fair, it wasn’t all bad.  She could, for example; hear the jukebox in the corner, playing Come on Eileen for the fifth time in a row - unknowingly settling into a duet with squelching sneakers as a bunch of drunken frat guys danced, all of them too far gone to notice any repetition.  Plus, she could pick up on the subtle click of the acrylic nails on the woman at a neighbouring table, listening to them tap against a series of her friends’ photographs, rotating between descriptions of priddy and gawgeous.  

Mixed with the scent of spilled beer and day-old peanuts, it was exactly the combination that to others may appear seedy, but to Amy and the squad, just seemed … familiar.  Shaw’s was their watering hole, the basement bar each could disappear into and drink to forget their days, and despite the five empty glasses on her table and the half-full one in her hand, Amy was finding it incredibly difficult to stop noticing just how sweet Jake was with his girlfriend.  

Even more impossible was to stop imagining what it would be like if she were the one standing near the dart board, with Jake’s arm resting comfortably over her shoulders.   

It had all started earlier today, when she had glanced over at her partner just in time to pick up on the tiny little smile that grew on his face when he noticed a text from Sophia.

(Okay, it’s possible that it had actually started back at The Maple Drip Inn, with that look he’d given her after maybe, yes, a little.  It had definitely led to a series of Thoughts after Teddy’s departure, of which she’d only given herself just that night to think about.)

(Except ‘that night’ then turned into that week, and okay fine then it had turned into ‘just that month'; and now here she is, several weeks later; completely unable of getting Jake Peralta off of her mind, and it’s becoming very likely that this is more than just a little crush.)

It had been so endearing to see, that tiny glimpse of joy and enchantment as he’d read Sophia’s message - just fleeting enough for Amy to wonder if anybody had ever reacted to a message from her with such glee.  (Teddy, she remembers, preferred not to text; and would instead express his affections by saving her the last bottle of his favourite pilsner, or brewing a new concoction ‘inspired by her’ … sweet, but somehow didn’t hold the same sentiment.)

So she’d kept her eyes glued to the computer screen in front of her as she listened to Jake pick up the phone and order a bunch of flowers to be delivered to Sophia’s office - using his debit card, and not a combination of the five questionably balanced credit cards under his name - which in itself is huge.  Pretended not to notice the multiple kiss emojis in his reply, or the soft tune that he hummed for a few minutes after, focusing intensely on the case file in front of her as she described a recent interrogation in finite detail.  Kept up the facade of all that stuff with us is in the past as he recounted a romantic weekend to their squad in the break room - laughing along in all the right places, doing her very best to keep the wistfulness out of her eyes.  

And all the while, Amy’s mind had kept contemplating if she would ever get to know what it would be like to date someone like Jake: to have somebody who would take all the black and whites of her life and show her the beautiful greys in-between. 

So when he’d shown up at Shaw’s this evening, with Sophia’s hand carefully wrapped around his own and a grin that announced his contentment to anyone who cared to look; Amy had felt her heart squeeze painfully in her chest.  Her painted smile had just lasted until the couple retreated to the corner for a crazily competitive game of darts, and Amy had decided tonight would be a great opportunity to drown her sorrows in a few glasses of whiskey, doing her absolute best not to notice all the little things she will never have.

Like the way Jake would punctuate each congratulatory high five with a kiss, even when it meant that his girlfriend had beaten him at a game.  The gentle way he steered them away from a rambunctious crowd, keeping an eye on the raised voices as his unaware girlfriend played her shot and came so close to hitting the bullseye.  Or the way Sophia’s hand would rest on Jake’s chest as he held her in his arms (just the way that Amy wishes she could do), and the way she would laugh so happily as he commented on the drunk guys dancing near them.  

It was all very simple, but undeniably sweet, and Amy doesn’t know how she ever doubted that Jake would be anything but. 

“Your covert skills need work, Santiago.”

The chair beside Amy scrapes angrily against the worn floorboards and she turns, startled by the interruption, quietly praying that her face isn’t quite as red as it suddenly feels.  Terry, far more interested in taking the last sip of his scotch than commenting on her appearance, settles in to his new location next to her, and his glass hits the soaking cardboard coaster with a slap.  

“Wha-huh?  Covert skills?  You really must be drunk, Sarge.  We’re not even on a stakeout right now.  Unless you’re talking about us staking out the contents of that fridge behind the bar haha!”  

(She’s rambling - she knows she’s rambling; but cannot stop the desperate need to pretend that she hadn’t just been completely busted for spending her entire evening staring at a life she may never know.)  

“Ugh.  Okay fine.”  Her mouth stretches out into a cringe, eyes flickering to the colleagues Terry had just walked away from.  “How noticeable are we talking here?”

“Noticeable enough that Charles has spent the last 40 minutes lamenting on ‘the beautiful tragedy of unrequited love’”.  Dropping his air quotes, Terry rolls his eyes, one eyebrow lowering as he returns to his drink.  “He lost me when he started quoting poetry.  Terry loves Shakespeare, but he could do with a little less soliloquies - and a little more spirits - tonight.”

“Oh!  You know what, there was just a Shakespeare play in Polonsky that starred - ” Terry overlaps her last words with his own heavy voice, and Amy’s stops in it’s tracks.  

“Dianne Wiest.  Terry knows.  That was his segue, Amy.”

She nods, sensing the need to dig up.  “Should have known.  Charles loves his Wiest feasts.”  Terry grunts his assent, pressing his lips together as he savours another verse-less sip, and Amy seizes the opportunity to cast another furtive glance at the happy couple.  

“Seriously, though.  Just because Peralta hasn’t noticed, doesn’t mean the rest of us haven’t.”

Amy brushes her hair to the side, swirling the liquid in her glass with her free hand.  “Okay, so maybe I haven’t been very subtle tonight, or whatever.”  Her gaze returns to Jake, drawn to him like a magnet, and her heart squeezes once more.  

To his credit, Terry gives her a moment; waiting for a silence to settle over their table before leaning forward in his chair, ignoring the sticky residue of the tabletop as he rests his arms on either side of his glass. 

“Out with it, Santiago.”

She shakes her head, swallowing hard to push down the burgeoning lump in her throat.  “They look really happy together, don’t they?  He looks … happy.”

Terry shrugs, glancing in the direction of Amy’s eye line.  “Yeah, I guess so.” 

“He does!  All shiny and cheerful and just .. happy.”

“I don’t know.  Terry remembers a time when you and Teddy looked just as content.”  His look is pointed, and followed by the unsubtle raise of his eyebrows.  Amy nods, draining the last of her drink.  Somehow, she has a feeling that Sophia’s underwear isn’t lined with mesh like Teddy’s had been (and even if it was, it would be some kind of inexplicably sexy mesh, for sure). 

“Sometimes things aren’t what they seem, sarge.”

“You know that works both ways, don’t you?”

Nodding again, Amy wipes her thumb along the smudged lipstick print on her glass, choosing to remain silent.  Terry didn’t get it - none of them got it, really.  She’d had her chance, the very first time the words romantic styles were uttered, and she’d let it slip away.  And now, she has to live with the consequences.  

Clearing his throat, Terry continues.  “I mean … she is a defence attorney, you know.”

“But see, even that isn’t something that I can fault.  Not fairly, anyway.”  Clocking the look of disbelief on Terry’s face, Amy shrugs defensively, waving her hand vaguely in Sophia’s direction.  “I know we all like to joke and call them evil, but really … all they’re doing is making us prove that our findings are beyond reasonable doubt.  If anything, it’s people like her that push us to do better - to work harder to make sure that we’re definitely charging the right person.  And as annoying as that can be, it’s definitely not a reason to hate her.”

“Kinda sounds like you do, though.”

She shakes her head, feeling the sense of defeat sink into her bones.  “I really don’t.  She’s incredibly smart, and funny and beautiful … she honestly looks like she should be in a commercial for shampoo or something.  She’s perfect for Jake, and I’m just …”

“You’re just … ?”

Shrugging, Amy slots her thumbnail into the edge of the coaster underneath her glass.  It, like her heart, had seen better days, and it was time for her to cut her losses.  “I’m just … going home.”

“What?  No.  Stay!  Our squad kicked butt this week, Amy.  We all deserve a drink.”

Painting another smile onto her face (she really is getting good at them), Amy pushes her seat away from the table, allowing herself one more glimpse at Jake’s smile before shaking her head at Terry.  “Sorry sarge, I just can’t seem to celebrate tonight.”

Heading towards the exit without a second thought, Amy doesn’t see Jake pull away from Sophia, taking a half step in the direction of the door as he watches her leave.  She doesn’t notice him pull out his phone, start to type a message before hesitating, pocketing it without hitting send.  The night moves on as Amy walks away, and the streets are deafeningly silent as soon as the bar door closes behind her.  

The sky seems to feel just as morose as Amy this evening, tiny droplets dropping onto her grey work blazer as she waits for a cab; too lost in her thoughts to take in the frivolity of a parting crowd.  As the rain increases and the splotches on her blazer turn into tiny Rorschach Tests she decides to give herself one more night - one last night of wishing for things that will never be. 

In the backseat on her ride home Amy twists her hands together, linking her fingers and imagining not for the first time that one hand was Jake’s (she would imagine similar .. later).  She thinks of what it could be like to have his warm presence near hers .. to have his hand resting on her leg, not out of possession but just to be near.  Watching him get out of the car first, only to turn and offer a helping hand for her exit, every time without fail.  

She pictures what it would be like to feel the brick exterior of her apartment against her back as Jake presses his soft lips against hers, kissing the life out of her, making her see stars before pulling her into the apartment for so much more.   

He wouldn’t always be the perfect partner - and lord knows, neither would she - but Amy knows that through it all he would remain her best friend, because even through all of this yo-yo pattern of denial and admittance, thats who Jake has been for her.  After all these years, he’s become the only one she wants to talk to, at any given moment of the day, who knows her coffee order better than his own and remembers her Abuela’s birthday, even when she hasn’t mentioned it in weeks.  

The scent of rain lingers in her apartment as Amy readies herself for bed, casting her pantsuit aside with drunken abandonment and giving her face a half-hearted wash before stumbling towards her bed.  She closes her eyes, the thoughts of what could have been still so loud in her quiet apartment, hugging the pillow beside her tightly while her mind begins to wander.  

As she finally drifts off to sleep that night, Amy tries not to remember the smile that Jake gave her as they danced so long ago at the community hall - that special kind of smile, that made her think that maybe it was solely for her - and tells herself once. and. for. all. that sometimes, life just doesn’t work out the way you’d hope.

* 

* * 

It’s a rush of cool air that alerts Amy to a brand new morning, the drop in temperature squashed as quickly as it arrives by the wrapping of a warm arm around her middle.  She smiles into the pillow as it completes its protective loop, letting her body get pulled closer to the human hot water bottle in the middle of her bed, and if there was a better way to wake up on a cold day, Amy is yet to see it.  

She lets out a sigh of comfort as the bridge of a prominent nose digs into her shoulder blade, feeling the warmth of his breath through her old academy shirt, nestling closer until her legs are well and truly tangled amongst his.  It’s late, later than she would normally allow herself to sleep, but the two of them were far too invested in basking in the afterglow of a rainy Saturday filled with sex and movies to consider leaving the bedroom anytime soon.  

Jake’s voice is rough, the remnants of a deep sleep obvious in his throat.  “Today’s Sunday, right?”

Amy nods, wriggling herself just free enough to turn within her boyfriend’s embrace.  His hair is sticking out on all ends - unaided, she is certain, by her hands the night before - and she runs the tip of her thumb along his right cheekbone.  Though his eyes are still closed, he leans into her touch, and she grins.  “Definitely Sunday.  A rainy Sunday, but part of the weekend all the same.”

He nods, the short and prickly fibres of his morning stubble scratching her palm.  “Good.  More time for time machine building.”

“… we’re building a time machine?”

“Yeah, one that lets us skip past all the boring work stuff, and leaves us with all the time in the world for more of this.  Kinda like that movie Click, but a lot less ‘trying to change the past’ stuff, and a lot more sex.”

She chuckles, and his left foot rubs along the side of her calf under the blanket.  “You���re crazy, Peralta.”  (Although, she will admit - the ‘a lot more sex’ part did sound kinda great.)

His eyelids flutter open, gaze growing soft as a smile stretches across his face.  “You’re beautiful, Santiago.”

Amy feels her cheeks begin to heat up, resisting the urge to cool herself down by tucking her hair away, completely unable to move as long as Jake continues to look at her like that.  There’s a pimple growing underneath the surface of her chin that is going to rival Mount Vesuvius, and her morning breath could probably wilt the flower pots living happily on her kitchen’s windowsill.  But here, in bed with her boyfriend of almost two years, she feels more beautiful than all of her best days put together.  

“I don’t think I’ve told you this today, but I love you, Jake.”

Leaning forwards, Jake’s soft lips press against Amy’s, and he winks as he pulls away.  “I mean, we’ve both been awake for a sum total of three minutes, so yeah, you’re pretty late with the love you’s today, babe.”

Her free hand flies out from under the cover, delivering an indignant smack to Jake’s chest, and he grabs it back before she can pull away, linking their fingers together and pressing a kiss to her knuckles.  “I love you too, Ames.  Even if you don’t want to build a time machine with me, I still love you.”

She laughs - a giggle that starts in her belly and bursts through her lungs, something that she’s been doing a lot more of these days - and pulls Jake in for a longer kiss, morning breath be damned.  

One day, in eight or so years time, they’ll have a son - a miniature version of Jake that, much like his father, runs to the beat of his own drum; and answers to the name Mac.  Amy will fall pregnant again, and when they explain to their son that he’s going to be a big brother, his response is so perfectly him that it makes Amy’s eyes tear up with laughter.  

For they are, by Mac’s decree, now officially a Ninja Turtle family.  He is Raphael (or ‘Rafel’), Jake Michelangelo due to his love of nunchaku, and Amy nabs Leonardo purely out of homage to one of her favourite artists.  The mini-Peralta still growing in her womb is, by default, Donatello (or Donatella, depending), and even though there was a time when Amy truly felt like she could never be this lucky, she will love their little family with all of her heart.  

But for now, she has Jake; and together they have warm bedsheets and no plans for a future that isn’t together - no matter what obstacles may be thrown their way.  

And Amy realises, as Jake begins to trace a series of kisses along her side of her neck; truly, being loved by him is better than she could have ever imagined.  

x

[lizardrosen]

Let me, if not by birth, have lands by wit. All’s with me meet that I can fashion fit.

Songs with key lyrics under the cut!

Backstage Romance - Moulin Rouge

I want your horror, I want your design 'Cause you're a criminal as long as you're mine

Under My Skin - Jukebox the Ghost

And my family had a castle, way back when I would have lived there if they had more male children

You’re Gonna Go Far, Kid - Jonathan Young

With a thousand lies and a good disguise Hit 'em right between the eyes, hit 'em right between the eyes

The Room Where It Happens - Hamilton

God help and forgive me I wanna build something that's gonna outlive me

All Eyes On Me - Victor McKnight

So many experiments So many mistakes But I'll go all the way Til I'm in perfect shape (First the worst Maybe thirds the charm)

Run For Cover - The Killers

What are you waiting for, a kiss or an apology? You think by now you'd have an A in toxicology

Could Have Been Me - The Struts

I wanna taste love and pain Wanna feel pride and shame I don't wanna take my time Don't wanna waste one line

Nails For Breakfast, Tacks For Snacks - Panic! At The Disco

That's when you st-st-stutter something profound To the support on the line And with the way you've been talking Every word gets you a step closer to hell

You’re Dreaming - Wolf Parade

Another scene more shattered glass Every system in collapse A billion screens they move so fast but that’s not life

Like Real People Do - Hozier

I knew that look, dear: eyes always seeking Was there in someone that dug long ago

Young God - Halsey

If there's a light at the end, it's just the sun in your eyes I know you wanna go to heaven, but you're human tonight

Take It Easy (Love Nothing) - Bright Eyes

Now I do as I please and lie through my teeth Someone might get hurt, but it won't be me I should probably feel cheap but I just feel free... And a little bit empty

The Boys Are Too Refined - The Hush Sound

And if the timing is right (Ohh) To sneak off into the night (Ohh) I'll let myself be taken just for the thrill

Bâtard - Stromae

Han, pardon, monsieur ne prend pas parti Monsieur n'est même pas raciste, vu que monsieur n'a pas de racines D'ailleurs monsieur a un ami noir, et même un ami Aryen Monsieur est mieux que tout ça, d'ailleurs tout ça, bah ça n'sert à rien

Oxford Comma - Vampire Weekend

All your diction dripping with disdain Through the pain, I always tell the truth

Call Them Brothers - Regina Spektor

That's it, it's split - it won't recover Just frame the halves and call them brothers

Wolf In Sheep’s Clothing (Acoustic) - Set It Off

Aware, aware, you stalk your prey With criminal mentality You sink your teeth into the people you depend on Infecting everyone, you're quite the problem

Counting Stars (instrumental) - Simply Three

I feel something so wrong doing the right thing I couldn't lie, couldn't lie, couldn't lie Everything that drowns me makes me wanna fly

Young And Vicious - Night Terrors of 1927

I saw the fakes, the forgeries The verdicts, guilty pleas Erased the names, wrote in our own Shining new history

My Songs Know What You Did In The Dark

I've got the scars from tomorrow and I wish you could see That you're the antidote to everything except for me Through a constellation of tears on your lashes Burn everything you love then burn the ashes

Afraid - The Neighborhood

When I wake up, I'm afraid Somebody else might take my place When I wake up, I'm afraid Somebody else might end up being me

Dear Dictator - Saint Motel

And at the trial, there'll be no jury And all the dead are gonna play witness Not too late to say you're sorry It's too late to truly mean it

Angel of Small Death and the Codeine Scene - Hozier

Freshly disowned in some frozen devotion No more alone or myself could I be Lurched like a stray to the arms that were open No shortage of sordid, no protest from me

High Tide Rising - Fox

There's a big storm comin' And I don't care So ooh, baby Just gimme my ticket to hell

Younger - The Mountain Goats

Set the torch aflame Call the night by name Stake out your dark position

Solitary One - Murder by Death

You've got your books You've got your shows But who you really are Nobody knows You just carry on 'Til you're gone

Highest Building - Anna Tivel

In the palm of your hand is a worn out dollar You stole from a man on the subway steps With a cardboard sign said thank the father But you ain’t spoke no thank you yet

Running Up That Hill - Ruby & the Rogues

You don't want to hurt me But see how deep the bullet lies Unaware I'm tearing you asunder Ooh, there is thunder in our hearts

Peacocks - The Mountain Goats

Hands grasping and groping Seizing opportunity right where it lies The sky will fall, we will rise

Watch It Crash - Toh Kay

It said We can't just blame it on our mothers Claim everything they did was always wrong And there ain't not turning back when our train is off its track And there's nothing we can do but watch it crash

Seven Nation Army - Zella Day

And I'm bleeding, and I'm bleeding, and I'm bleeding Right before the lord All the words are gonna bleed from me And I will think no more

I’m Gonna Win - Rob Cantor

It’s hard to be charming and smart and disarming It’s hard to pretend you’re the best It’s hard to fulfill everyone’s expectations It’s hard to keep up with the rest

[ecccentrick]

Jaskier Should Really Listen To Geralt pt. 2

Pt.1 || Pt. 3 || Ao3

This is my last writing post here, since I now have a writing blog @eccentrick-ramblings. Prompts and requests are open.  

--

Jaskier had many talents. He could sing, write, dance, play multiple instruments, and was something of a scholar, if did say so himself. But one talent that was known but was hardly spoken of in polite company was the one that was going to get him out of this situation alive. 

He was going to slut it up.

Making himself relax back into the bed, he slid one of his hands through the monster’s thick hair, humming as though content with the current state of things. The creature’s hand of steel relaxed minutely against Jaskier’s stomach and he forced himself not to take a shuddering breath, instead breathing from his diaphragm. 

“So you’re one of those, huh?” Jaskier asked, letting his voice go slightly rough. 

The monster stiffened. 

“Of what?”

Jaskier widened his legs. The beast nestled deeper between them, his whole upper body splaying across Jaskier’s. He tried not to take that as the threat it surely was. 

Turning his head so that his lips brushed against the monster’s ear at every syllable, he said, “Hm, one of those men who enjoys roleplay of the, uh, should I say, unconventional sort? Can’t say I’ve come across too many, but I’m always willing to give things a try.”

The beast pulled back from Jaskier’s neck to stare into his eyes, like he was going to ask if Jaskier was truly that dumb and horny. And Jaskier could hear Geralt’s reply in his mind, yes. 

Wait. Geralt.

Shit.

Okay, so Jaskier had a new idea. He wouldn’t just deescalate the situation like previously planned, stall until Geralt came back empty handed and frustrated. Jaskier would actually have to save himself this time. And, now that he thought about it, the rest of the residents of the inn. 

He was beginning to realize why Geralt was so crotchety all the damn time.

Something in the monster’s eyes changed, a dawning understanding and anticipation. It was feral and raw and Jaskier met it with one of his own, shifting his hips up. He almost had it. 

With one hand still in its hair, he trailed the other up its torso, gently touching its sides, before getting to its shoulder blades, fingertips clenching the muscle and bone there, digging his fingernails in hard enough that if it were a human, there would surely be marks left behind. 

“What is it you have in mind?” The beast slurred his words, despite having only one watered down ale that evening. 

The hand holding Jaskier down raised up, higher and higher, until it came around his neck, a soft shackle. His heart beat double time, and he sucked in a breath that he could still blessedly take, for now. 

His mind blanked for a few seconds, because, to be completely honest, this beast was hitting all of Jaskier’s buttons. If this man were a human, they would surely get up to some great fun. Jaskier couldn’t stop himself from thinking about Geralt. Geralt leaning over him, Geralt holding him down, Geralt’s calloused and scarred hand around his neck, holding him in place, stealing his breath. 

Without having the feign a moan, Jaskier said, “Well, why don’t you chase me?” he dug his nails in deeper. “Capture me. Hunt me down.”

The beast sucked in a harsh breath and Jaskier knew he had him, once and for all. Better or for worse. 

“Perhaps I should give you a head start?” the monster asked. “But you’d have to be quiet, not wake anyone up. Wouldn’t want anyone to be in the crosshairs of a hunt, now would you?”

--

The creaking of the stairs almost did him in. 

The innkeeper had muted the lights in the dining area, leaving them only bright enough to cast shadows and create a sense of unease. Or perhaps that was because he had a beast after him, coming for his blood. Literally. 

He tried to move quietly. The steps creaked. That small sound, so inconsequential, made him realize all that was at stake. The innkeeper, who now most likely slept in the kitchen so her guests could have the rooms, the father and child that were staying in the room next to his, and the orange cat that liked to slink around guests' ankles...their lives were all in jeopardy, and only Jaskier being a good little lamb to slaughter might save them.

What the beast didn’t know was that the lamb intended to lead it to its end. 

He opened the door slowly, silently. Fresh air filled his lungs, crisp and cool. The moon was high in the sky, lighting the way for Jaskier, his socked feet kicking up dust as he went from a slow creep to a desperate sprint in a span of seconds. 

The village was close to a forest, and knowing it was the best place for cover, Jaskier ran for it. Once treetops came overhead, he stopped for a quick breather and to orient himself. 

Geralt always told Jaskier what direction he’d be going in on any hunt. It wasn’t always that way; the bard searching and finding an overdosed witcher next to a dead leshen after he failed to arrive back at the tavern set that to rights. Luckily Jaskier had memorized Geralt’s potions long ago, or he’d be dead and buried. 

Geralt had told him he was heading southwest, which was. . .which way was it? He was fucked, wasn’t he? And not even by a deathless death like all scandalous bards want to go out. 

“Okay, let’s see. Eeny, meene, miny. . .moe! This way then.” 

He dashed in that direction, heading deeper into the woods. He ran until his legs burned, until the wagon roads gave way to deer tracks, until there was nothing but trees, brush and silence. Not even an owl dared to hoot. The monster was here coming for him. 

Jaskier took a deep breath, filling his lungs to their capacity. And then, in that creepy quiet, he screamed. 

“GERALT! GERALT! GERALLLT IT’S AFTER MEEEE!” 

Waiting only a beat, Jaskier continued his flight. There was no sign of the grumpy witcher, and he just gave away his ruse. Perhaps the fear had addled his mind. He should’ve been sneakier, hid in a hollow tree stump, or something. Taken his perfume bottle with him and doused a trail of potent fragrance behind each step. But, then, the monster could follow that too. Hell, even a particularly observant human would’ve been able to trace him; he always bought the strong stuff. 

“DAMMIT!”

He was soon lost, hopelessly and completely. The lights from the village had long since dimmed and he didn’t know which way was the way back. At least if the monster got to him, the others might be spared until Geralt could find it and kill it. His death wouldn’t be in vain. Perhaps he’d even become a local hero. 

A branch to his left cracked. A rustling, then a growl. Footsteps, and then the monster revealed himself, moving from shadows and into the moonlight. It was a great entrance, the bard had to give him that. Points for the dramatics. At the very least, Jaskier wouldn’t die a boring death. 

“It’s as I thought. You were running to your witcher. I’d be angry, but that’ll make this more interesting.”

Jaskier grit his teeth. “You’re awfully arrogant for a monster in the sights of a witcher. The White Wolf. You’ll be dead by morning and Geralt and I will be walking the Path again.”

The beast came closer, his steps measured and sure. Suddenly, he was at Jaskier’s side, a hand at his delicate neck and another on his right shoulder. Back, back, back the monster pushed him, until he hit the nearest tree, bark digging into his exposed neck. He squeezed Jaskier’s neck, bringing a wheeze from the bard’s lips.

“Why. . .” the hand tightened and the longing to cough almost made him gag, “Why me?” 

“Because of your blood, it smells so rare, so fine. None of these backwater hicks taste of anything but the dirt under my boots. But you. . .such fresh nectar.”

“Th-That’s a little insulting,” he took a harsh gulp of air, and it whistled in his throat. “That you- only - wanted me - my blood - not my - da-dashing good-”

“Enough, Jaskier. Save your breath.”

 “G-Ger-”

His back, once against rough bark, was now against a hard chest. And there was that band of steel around his neck. Air fought to get into his lungs, and his voice demanded to be heard but he couldn’t talk, couldn’t make the words form on his lips. Eyes bulged and the skin of his face heated. He was being strangled, and instead of a thoughtless tumor it was at the will of someone who chose to steal his breath until he had none left. 

Soft hands tore against steel. Feet dug into earth, kicked and scrambled, never meeting anything solid besides the ground. Reason fled his mind, and he was just a vessel. A vessel that wanted free. 

“Jaskier, stay calm!” Geralt’s voice reached his ears, echoing. Oh, there was still some hope. He might survive. 

“So I see that you’re a coward,” Geralt said. 

Jaskier was about to be offended until the beast spoke. 

“You’re trying to appeal to my ego. You do care for this bard, then?” 

Geralt was all wobbly and misty, like he was made of liquid bones. His eyes were black, veins a dark gray. Jaskier tried to squint, rapidly blink, but he wouldn’t stay put, wouldn’t go back to normal. 

His throat ached. 

“Let the bard go. He played his part of the bait, now let him go and we can end this. You...you hunt and kill the weak and expect not to be confronted? Take a hostage, a meat shield. Pathetic and cowardly.” 

“I don’t think I’m going to do that. I’m probably all of those things, now that I think about it, and I don’t rightly care. Now, can’t you see I’m celebrating a holiday? The moon is full.”

“Higher vampire. Shit.”

The vampire laughed and that’s when things got fuzzy for Jaskier. He wanted to come out of his skin, wanted to be able to see clearly. His heart felt like it wanted to gallop out of his chest and race Roach. 

“You know what? I’ll just save this for later.”

A prickling sensation started at his side and spread, tendrils of numbness. It quickly became a burning feeling and with it came air, blessed air. The ground met his body. The steel band was gone.

He took a few moments to catch his breath. Each gulp of air felt like swallowing hot coals, his lungs screaming. Once clarity disrupted the fog over Jaskier’s mind he trailed a shaking hand to his side. It came back sticky with blood. He glanced up and saw the vampire lick long, protruding claw-like nails.

In the wise words of Geralt of Rivia, fuck. 

[savethelastdan]

Kagura Week 2020 Day 3: Lust for Life

“Where are we going, Kagura?” 

One hand holding her hair down so that it wouldn’t blow all over, Rin peered up with huge eyes at the mountains stretched before her. Beside her, Kagura laughed, letting the wind rip tendrils of hair from her bun with nary a care.  

“I told you it was a surprise, so stop asking already.” Placing a finger by her lips, she added, “And once you do figure it out, remember your promise.”

Rin nodded, feeling an uncomfortable mixture of excitement and unease settle in her gut. “I won’t tell Lord Sesshomaru...but why don’t you want me to, again?” 

Gripping her arm, Kagura strode forward fearlessly, as though the mountains that loomed above were old friends. “Because it’s a girl’s trip. We’re doing girl things. Which means you can’t tell that stupid frog either.”

“Oh. Okay.”

  The coolness of rock against the calluses of her bare feet was startling--always being in the mountain’s shade kept the sun from warming them, the way it did on the riverbank near the village. Rin glanced down and felt the jolt of joy that she always had when she remembered that Kagura preferred bare feet, too. 

Walking up the side of one of the mountains was fun enough; Rin liked tracing the lines where rainwater had worn entire arms of the cliffs away; the red silt against one stretch that was soft enough for her and Kagura to leave colored handprints along the wall; tiny burrows in the rock that only a very small demon could live in. Kagura complained about the stress on her legs loudly. Her voice bounced off the rocks and echoed in Rin’s ears.

“Why don’t we fly, then?” She asked, but Kagura just smirked and said nothing. 

They’d been walking so long that she barely realized it when they arrived at the top. Kagura threw both arms out, as though calling the winds into an embrace, and screamed, “Finally!” 

Rin’s legs shook. The entire sky stretched before her, crowning Kagura’s head in blue and blossoming into pink towards the far-off horizon. Her toes curled against the surface of the rock, sending tiny stones skittering. It was beautiful. It was terrifying. 

Excitement burning in her eyes, Kagura moved closer to the edge. 

“Rin.” A hand beckoned her over. 

Despite her fear (what if I cry? What if I fall?) she obeyed. 

Kagura’s nails dug into her arm, just shy of pain. The demon’s voice dropped low, into something that (though Kagura herself would never admit it) sounded gentle. Like the voice Sango used with her twin daughters, when they were crying about having their hair cut. 

“You’ve been through a lot, kid. We all have, but…” she shrugged, as though the horrors of the past were as easily discarded as a kimono in the wrong color. “You and I, we’ve barely been able to do anything for ourselves. To experience things. Not because we’re being dragged along on someone else’s crusade, but because the world is ours and we want a taste of it.” 

The wind witch’s eyes glowed in a sheet of sunlight; the scarlet shade gained a purplish tint that, in Rin’s opinion, was quite pretty. She assumed Lord Sesshomaru thought the same, since he let Kagura stay with him all the time even though Jaken absolutely despised her.

“I haven’t been in this world long, Rin. Not even as long as you.” Her grip slid down, until Rin’s fingers were crushed tight against her palm. “But I want to be in it for a long time, and I want to go fucking wild while I’m here. What about you?” 

The cursing made Rin giggle, and she squeezed the wind witch’s hand back. “I want to have fun, too.”

Kagura’s lip curved. “Remember not to tell, okay? He’ll have my head on a stake.” 

Her feet moved towards the edge. Panic, natural and unbidden, seized like a hand against Rin’s throat. But then Kagura’s fingers pulsed around hers, like a heartbeat. 

Kagura jumped.

Rin knew she didn’t have to follow--she could step back, make her way down the mountain slowly. Be careful. But instead, she jumped too, wanting the joyful laugh that left the wind witch’s lips to be her own. 

They were only in the air for a few minutes before the wind caught them; Rin felt a feather-softness form beneath her knees, cradling her like a mother with a newborn. She barely registered her feet settling back on the ground, or staring up at the peak they’d just leapt from--was I really up that high? Am I really okay?

Kagura’s mass of curls had burst entirely free; she wound them up with both hands, a smile stretched wide across her face. Her eyes flit over Rin’s body. The fact that she was checking her for injuries, that even in her own joy she had made sure to catch Rin and leave her unharmed, felt like watching sunbeams on a river’s surface. 

“How do you feel, Kagura?” Rin couldn’t help but ask, resisting the urge to throw her arms around the witch’s waist like she did to Lord Sesshomaru. She looked so bright, the wind sweeping around her to turn her cheeks red. 

“How do you think?” Kagura laughed. “Alive.” 

[one-boring-person]

You Tell Us.

David(The Lost Boys) x Reader

Context: (Y/n) is a vampire hunter who lives in Santa Carla, alongside the vampires already residing there, with her sister. One night, she comes home to find the boys, minus one, worked up about something, convinced that she is the cause of what has happened.

Warnings: Blood, fatal injuries.

The hot air around me is suffocating as I trek up the dusty trail to my house, wishing now that I'd ridden my motorbike into Santa Carla, rather than walking in like I'd thought I was up to, my leather jacket not doing anything to help my case. Sighing reluctantly, I go to take it off, before thinking better of it when I realise I can’t be bothered to carry it, pushing the sleeves up my arms instead, flicking my sweaty hair from my face as I walk, kicking a stone along the darkened path. Above me, the sky has long since faded into darkness, the moon barely visible through the clouds littering the black expanse, the sight of it a stark reminder of the twisting feeling in my gut.

Something is wrong.

The sensation has plagued me for hours now, especially when I noticed the biker gang hadn’t turned up at the Boardwalk, the lack of their usual mischievous antics barely missed by anyone other than me, the vampires’ absence worrying me to no end. As soon as I'd realised they weren't around, I left to go home, worried for the safety of my sister still residing in my house (I say "my house" but really it's just an empty house we moved into when we first arrived here), blissfully unaware of the horrors concealed in the town. Of course, it took me a while to get out of Santa Carla, what with the Frog brothers and their new friend, Sam Emerson, pestering me for more information and help regarding the “nightstalker situation” as they call it, only letting me go when I gave them some more misleading advice for them to follow up on, trying my best not to draw attention to the vampires I know to inhabit the small town.

Normally, I would’ve taken them out by now, but the deal I made with them keeps me from doing so, so I suck it up and give them the same amount of respect and friendliness they pay me, which isn’t too much, in all honesty, but that suits me fine. The arrangement stated that I wouldn’t kill any of them, only taking out any other vampires and hunters that come into their territory, if they promised only to target the more criminal side of the public, leaving innocents alone as much as possible, but that doesn’t mean I trust them, any of them, even if I have developed an unfortunate soft spot for their leader.

Shaking myself back into the present, I feel the dread in my stomach welling up as I come into view of the house, only to find the building completely dark. Frowning in worry, I pick up the pace, pushing past the gate in my haste to reach the front door, which stops me in my tracks as I catch sight of it.

It is ajar, the locks snapped off completely.

Setting my jaw in grim realisation, I reach into my inner jacket pocket, pulling out the stake laced with holy water, the smooth wood reassuring under my fingers as I slowly push open the door, bracing myself for whatever lies past the boundary. Waiting for me is the dark interior of my hall, everything as it should be, barring the lack of light, my pulse picking up a little as I survey the area in trepidation. Entering, I step carefully, trying to keep as quiet as I can so as not to alert the intruders to my presence, though if it is who I think it is, there’s no point. All around me, the house is eerily quiet, no sounds accompanying my entrance.

Looking to my left, I notice that the door to the lounge has been torn clean off its hinges, the area behind it as black as the rest of the house. I grit my teeth, trying to see into the room as much as possible, though I know it's impossible thanks to my human vision, so I grab the torch off the table beside the door, knowing it is there due to my normal organised behaviour. Switching it on, I aim the bright beam into the lounge, a gasp escaping me as I catch sight of the ghostly pale features of my sister sitting in a chair, mouth gagged, arms clearly tied behind her, her eyes wide and terrified.

Putting a finger to my lips as a gesture for her to remain quiet, I cautiously make my way into the room, looking around me as I do so, checking the surroundings as thoroughly as possible, though, in my haste, I forget the most important place. Deeming it clear, I go to my sister, dropping the stake as I place a hand on her cheek, tilting her face up towards me; checking her neck for the tell tale signs. Finding none, I let out a grateful sigh, before finally registering her fearful murmurs, my hand reaching for the stake at my feet, my pulse picking up a lot more as the gravity of my previous mistake sinks in. As I go to pick the short length of wood up, a heavy boot lands on my hand, holding the appendage in place, tension freezing my body in place as the lights suddenly switch on, revealing the intruders to me.

“Hello, (Y/n). We have a bone to pick with you.” A sinister voice sounds behind me, the source of it well known to me, though I’ve never heard it laced with so much anger before.

“David. What are you doing here?” I look over my shoulder at the blonde vampire, taking in his venomous look with confusion, my hand still pinned to the floor under his shoe. Behind him, Dwayne and Paul shoot me equally angered expressions, the vampires trying to hold back their more primal facial features with some success though their eyes flash yellow from time to time.

“I think you know full well the reason for our visit.” David hisses at me, pressing harder onto my hand, a cruel smirk making its way onto his handsome face at the wince that escapes me, despite my better judgement.

“I don't? Mind filling me in?” I retort, lifting an eyebrow as I keep eye contact with him, his own eyes narrowing in fury. He nods once to Paul and Dwayne, who instantly move over to me, grabbing hold of me and lifting me to my feet, pinning my hands behind my back and forcing me to keep my eyes trained in front of me as they back me away from my captive sister, who watches this in pure terror.

“What are you doing? What’s going on?” I protest, only just noticing something key, “Where’s Marko?”

At the mention of their friend's name, all three vampires tense up, a low growl leaving Dwayne's lips at my question.

“You tell me, (Y/n), you killed him.” David manages to keep his voice level, though I can tell he's barely keeping his rage in check, his words hitching a little.

Shock floods me, rendering me silent as I search for the appropriate words, well aware that I had nothing to do with Marko’s death.

“Wh....he's dead? How?” I eventually manage, looking to them for answers.

“You staked him, don’t you remember?” Paul growls in my ear, his fangs emerging to brush along the carotid artery in my neck, a warning shiver going through me at the sensation.

“How am I supposed to remember something I didn’t do?” I protest, regretting my words as Dwayne’s grip on my arm tightens, nails digging into the soft flesh, painfully, “I didn’t stake him.”

Giving me an acidic glare, David goes over to my sister, lifting a hand to cup her chin, tilting her head to the side, giving him easy access to her neck. At this, I become panicked, writhing in the other two vampires’ grip, pulling and fighting to get free, a grunt leaving me as they yank me back into place, holding me as still as possible.

“What are you doing? She’s done nothing, I’ve done nothing! Whatever happened to Marko, she has had no part in it, leave her alone! Please!” I plead their leader, embarrassment accompanying the panic coursing through my veins as I realise I’m begging him, my usually hard exterior cracking slightly.

“Why should you not feel the pain we do? Especially after breaking the rules of our agreement, which we've kept to as we are supposed to.” David snarls at me, his vampiric appearance threatening to distort his features as he leans closer to my sister, her confused terror palpable in the air, whimpers and cries of fear forcing themselves past the gag in her mouth

“I’ve never broken those rules before, so why should I do it now? You know, of all people, that I respect the agreement as much as you guys do. I’ve never let another vampire hunter stay on your turf, I've hunted any vampires that tried to stay around, I’ve never let anyone find out the truth, and I sure as hell would never kill any of you! What would I get out of doing something like that?” I point out to them, hoping they recall the time when I spent an entire night chasing some leather clad priest out of Santa Carla, the paranoid man having been particularly violent when he thought I was a vampire, trying to stake me and succeeding, thankfully missing any vital organs, though my resilience managed to scare him off in the end.

The room goes quiet as the vampires consider this, the only sound being my sister's soft noises of terror as she watches the exchange, her head still at an angle in David's grasp. Clenching his jaw, the blonde vampire releases her, stepping over to me so that he can look me directly in the eye, his rage still dangerously high, though it’s dampened now, his face more human than before.

“We need to discuss this. Alone.” He eventually bites out, nodding at Paul and Dwayne, who remove their hands from my body with a few indignant murmurs, allowing me to be passed into their leader's clutches, “You two stay here with her. If she tries anything, well, you know what to do.”

At his words, a pit of worry opens up in my stomach, my mind fighting my body as I am dragged from the room, barely registering Paul and Dwayne's smirks, both obviously happy about the outcome of this conversation so far. I go to protest, only to feel the grip on my arm tighten briefly, the vampire leading me obviously warning me to keep quiet as he takes me upstairs, easily able to navigate the dark with his enhanced vision, quickly pushing me into the nearest room, which just happens to be the spare bedroom. As we enter, he flicks on the light, standing opposite me with his hands in his pockets, waiting for me to say something.

“Why are we not talking about this downstairs?” I question after a moment, confused as to the vampire’s reasons.

“Because if it wasn’t you who staked Marko, then I have no idea who else it could be. Star and Laddie are also missing, so I’m out of leads.” He admits carefully, allowing himself to look me in the eye, showing me the raw grief behind them. As quickly as I see it, however, it is gone, the vampire swiftly setting his jaw again.

At the mention of Star, a pang of jealousy makes itself known in my chest but I quickly push it down, knowing he'll be able to hear my heart rate picking up if I don’t suppress my feelings. I let myself relax a little, confident that he won’t do anything to hurt me, and that he is genuinely curious and confused as to who tore their family apart.

“I can’t say I know. There have been no new vampire hunters in town for months, and I’ve made sure to keep an eye out for them, so it’s not another hunter, I don’t think.” I muse, frowning in concentration as I wrack my mind for a possible solution, “Unless...”

My voice trails off as I say the last part, one thought making its way into the forefront of my mind, but I don’t allow myself to think that, unwilling to believe it could be true. Unfortunately, David picks up on my hesitation, instantly moving closer to me, causing me to back up, my pulse raising as he corners me against the wall behind me, his body trapping me. Against my cheek, I can feel the icy air radiating off the vampire's body, his proximity also allowing me to catch the scent of his natural musk, the mixture of dust, blood, leather and motor oil clouding my sense as he leans in close.

“Unless?” He breathes against my skin, voice dropping an octave as he looks into my eyes, a smirk making its way onto his face briefly at the inadvertent hitch in my breath, my body reacting on its own.

“Unless you let someone else in on your secret.” I state, struggling to concentrate under his piercing gaze.

A line appears between his eyes as he considers this, a flash of understanding suddenly breaking out across his face, a snarl ripping from his lips at the thought.

“Michael.” He spits out, eyes flashing dangerously.

“Michael?” I inquire, trying to think back to the Michael he means.

“The new kid, Michael Emerson. We initiated him last night, but he refused to feed, so he still hasn’t turned. I know he and Star slept together, so it’s not unlikely for her to have run off with him.” David's voice is low once more, anger lacing his tone.

“Michael Emerson?” The name sets off alarm bells in my head, the surname familiar to me, “He have a brother?”

“Probably, I don’t exactly make a point of learning a person's family members.” The vampire responds impatiently.

“You did when we first met.” I point out quietly, looking down as he shoots me an odd look, a blush creeping onto my face at his next words.

“You’re different.”

Glancing up, I gasp as I find his face a lot closer to mine, my usually sharp instinctual knowledge of a person's movements completely off, his eyes staring straight into mine. Smirking he pulls away, putting a little space between us before the scowl is back, his anger and hurt returning swiftly.

“Anyway, I’m pretty sure Michael's younger brother has been hanging out with the Frog brothers in the comic shop, a lot more in the last day or so.” I manage to explain once I’ve regained my composure, adjusting my jacket around me once more.

“And this is important, why?” David growls, eager to avenge Marko’s demise, the blonde vampire twitching a bit.

“Well, the Frog brothers fancy themselves as vampire hunters. I taught them a lot of what they know, but I’ve made sure I never told them exactly what they need to know, and I’ve never drawn any attention to you guys. They were very persistent today, and they seemed stressed.” I inform him a little sheepishly, flinching as he stiffens, worry flooding my mind again, “They’re mostly completely harmless.”

“Not harmless enough.” David hisses, swiftly going to the door and opening it, striding down the stairs as fast as possible, shouting instructions at Paul and Dwayne.

“Where are you going?” I call put after him, tailing the vampire as he leaves the house, a grunt leaving my lips as Paul and Dwayne push past me harshly, knocking my shoulders.

“To settle a score.” Their leader responds, a smirk on his face, though I barely have time to acknowledge it before they’re taking to the skies, hellbent on revenge.

Speechless, I stand there for a second, my brain kicking me into action as I realise they are in big trouble, both the Emersons and the vampires – they’re both too stubborn in nature to give up. Instantly, I race into the house, where I grab the keys to my motorbike as well as a few vials of holy water, just in case, briefly going into the lounge to free my sister and reassure her. Minutes later, I’m on the back of my roaring motorbike, a grim expression on my face at the thought of the events of tonight, swiftly manoeuvring my way towards the Emerson's home.

A wind has picked up since I’ve been the house, the icy air rushing past me as I hurtle along the darkened road at nearly 100mph, my leather jacket barely protecting me against it, though I don’t notice it in any case. My mind is dead set on reaching my destination, though I know I am most likely too late to do anything to help, the vampire’s being inhumanely faster than me after all. Urgency gives me a reckless speed, an oncoming truck nearly sending me flying off the road as it almost hits me, a few birds and dogs in the surrounding landscape breaking into sound as I pass them, the interruptive engine exciting them. The odd pedestrian calls out at me as I thunder past, insults and words of irritation lost in the wind, their meaning falling on deaf ears as I ignore every person I come across, until I reach the road leading to the familiar house a little way away from the rest. Determined, I turn down it and ramp up the speed, blinking away tears that have formed in my eyes from the barrage of air, the salty liquid momentarily blurring my vision.

Soon enough, the Emerson home comes into view, prompting me to cut the speed abruptly, skidding as the motorbike struggles to grip the dusty surface below it. As soon as it comes to a halt, I jump off of it, racing up the driveway to the house, barely noticing the gate as I vault over it, thankful now that I took time to train myself in this kind of agility, my pace not faltering for a second until I reach the front door, where I slow down enough to take in my surroundings.

The room is bathed in a crimson light, the source unimportant for the minute, revealing the dark shadows of several pieces of dislodged furniture, a table laden with stakes near the middle, a mangled body lying a little way away from it. Gulping, I go over to it with caution, half expecting someone to attack me, though it is eerily quiet in this area of the house, the only sound being a few static sparks from the smoking stereo above the corpse.

My eyes widen as I recognise the mutilated vampire, concern and shock flooding me at the realisation; Dwayne. Going nearer, I look over the debris around him, deducting his fate very quickly, though it surprises me greatly that a bunch of kids would do something like this. But then again, it is the Frog brothers.

All of a sudden, I feel something connect with my shoulder; the force of the impact throwing me a good few feet to the left, a dull ache starting in the inflicted area as I collide, violently, with the floor. Groaning, I look up, only now hearing the snarls and rasping voices of two vampires, the ominous shape of the two of them hanging from a doorframe a couple of metres away catching my attention. One of them I recognise to be David, the blonde growling into the face of another, who I assume to be Michael, both of them so locked up in each other that they haven't noticed my presence behind them, both pairs of yellow eyes focused solely on each other.

Scrambling to my feet, I force my legs to carry me over to them, grabbing hold of David's back in an attempt to pull them apart, though I know full well that I am far too weak to be successful by force alone. A few words leave my lips, useless pleas falling on deaf ears as they continue to fight, verbally, with each other.

“Join us, Michael!” The familiar yet slightly distorted tone of David interrupts me, the vampire's tense muscles bunching underneath me as if ready to move again.

“Never!” The brunette rejects the offer, most likely not for the first time, drawing a frustrated growl from the blonde.

“My blood runs in your veins!” David points out, his smirk almost audible in his words.

“So does mine!” Michael growls one last time, before I suddenly feel our bodies being turned and forced towards something invisible to me, the shock and confusion briefly flaring in my mind until two searing points of agony burst into existence in my abdomen. A strangled scream escapes my lips at the sensation, blood pushing its way past my lips with every faltering breath, my eyes swiftly finding the two horns of sorts protruding from my body, the two vampires staring at me from behind them. In my rapidly deteriorating state, I recognise David's features becoming human again as he rushes to my side, panic and horror lacing his voice, shock clouding his gaze.

“(Y/n)?! What the hell?! This can’t be happening...I can’t lose everyone!” He rambles, the usually composed vampire scrambling for sanity now that he's faced with a situation he can't control. Gasping, I try to lift a hand, intending to wipe away the tear rolling down his cheek, only to let out a whimper of pain when the movement jars the wounds in my stomach. Eyes widening, David seems to make a split second decision, swiftly apologising as he reaches underneath me to grasp my body in his hands, pulling me off the horns abruptly, pulling me into his chest as I scream in pure agony. In seconds, I feel the cool night air on my face again, my hands clutching at David's jacket desperately when he leaps off the ground, taking to the sky in order to escape the residents of the Emerson household, holding me tightly to him, whispering despairing reassurances into my ear.

My vision starts to cloud slightly, the pain in my abdomen almost too much for me to bear, my mind becoming hazy, though I try my best to stay awake for his sake, knowing it will ruin him if I pass in his arms. Small whimpers leave me every now and then, each time drawing the attention of the panicking blonde vampire, his grip steadily tightening around me as he quickens his pace, the wind turning icy as it rushes around us.

Eventually, after what feels like hours, we enter what looks to be the cave they reside in, though I’ve only been in it once and so don't remember too well what the interior looks like. A soft surface appears below me as his arms leave me, though they don’t quite retreat fully, his large hands tilting my head to him as he tries to hold eye contact with me, failing when the hurt in them becomes too much for him to handle.

“God, I’m so sorry, (Y/n), I never realised you were there! This should never have happened, I got lazy and arrogant...and now they’re all dead!” At his own words, David breaks down, sobs leaving the normally intimidating vampire as tears flow freely down his cheeks, “God, they're all dead! And now I’m gonna lose you too!”

Upon hearing how broken he is, I say the only thing that comes to mind, my decision made up, even if it goes against my every rule, hoping to hell I can console him.

“T...turn...me...” My voice is hoarse and strangled from the blood still oozing out from between my lips, but I know he’ll hear me.

Sure enough, the blonde stiffens, his eyes fixing on me in surprise.

“What did you say?” He questions, tone laced with disbelief.

“Turn...me...” I repeat, lifting a hand to place it on his, weakly rubbing his frigid skin under the digit, reassuring him.

“Are you...are you sure?” For once, David looks genuinely caught off guard and unsure of himself, the moment of weakness a new idea for me to wrap my head around, though I know I will never bring it up again around him, should I survive this. Another wave of pain forces the deciding words from me, my voice strained.

“Yes, I can’t leave you alone. Not now, not ever.”

Seeing the seriousness in what I’m saying, as well as the truth, David carefully moves himself into the bed with me, cradling me against him as he uses a fingernail to slice into his wrist, lifting the bleeding appendage to my face. Pressing my lips against his pale akin, I don’t allow myself time to rethink my choices, sucking and licking at the wound feebly at first, until my strength picks up, the healing properties in his blood starting to re-energise me. A sigh escapes his lips above me, his other hand holding me tighter to his body, his grief momentarily forgotten by the joy at having me finally submit to him after all these years, the sensation of my lips on his arm reawakening a feeling he hasn’t felt in years.

Finally, I pull away, my head falling back onto his chest, my eyes rolling upwards to look into his, relief filling me as the pain subsides a bit, not quite leaving completely. Smiling down at me, David lifts one hand, which is covered in my blood, to his mouth, where he makes a show of licking each digit clean, moaning slightly at the taste. Blushing, I can only watch as he enjoys himself, allowing himself a little respite after everything that’s happened.

“Thank you, (Y/n).” He hums to me, genuinely grateful that I’ve decided to join him, glad that he won’t have to deal with his pain alone.

“Of course. No one should be alone. Especially not someone as lost as you.” I say to him, rolling over with some difficulty to rest my chin on his chest, staring up at him in sympathy.

A shocked look crosses over his face at my words, clearly unused to being shown genuine affection, his expression giving me the impression that he’s having some sort of internal conflict. It takes him a few minutes, but eventually he seems to make up his mind, using one hand to gently cup my chin and pull me closer to him, our faces centimetres apart. In my chest, my heartbeat picks up, butterflies forming under my skin as our lips brush, before he suddenly presses them together in a soft kiss. Surprised, I freeze for a second, only to kiss back as gladly as he does, joy blanking out the dull pain in my abdomen as our lips move together, his hand moving from my chin into my hair, pulling me closer until I run out of air, at which point we have to part.

“You have no idea how long I’ve waited to do that.” David whispers to me, caressing my back with his other hand, a smile gracing his lips once more.

“I could say the same thing.” I respond, giggling a little, until a yawn interrupts me, my exhaustion finally catching up with me. My eyelids start to droop, my body comfortable against David's chest, despite the icy temperature, him clearly as happy to have me there as I am to be there.

“I'll help you complete the transition tonorrow, but for now, sleep well, (Y/n).” He says to me as I drift off, voice soft and gentle in my ears, lulling me to sleep.