#twitch hire me to fix your shit

[atthebell-moved]

Another thing i wanna complain about at twitchcon sd: the bathrooms. Not about cleanliness or lines (i never waited in a line a single time) but gender inclusivity.

The convention center has never updated their bathrooms so they have only women's and men's restrooms (and likely some family & accessible one-stall rooms somewhere; i never saw them). Twitch, in a very sad attempt at inclusivity, slapped up trans/all-gender symbols (⚧️) next to each of these to say "all bathrooms are gender neutral/inclusive". Which is cool! If that were actually the case.

Instead it was just. Women's and men's bathrooms. And as is always the case in public places with gendered bathrooms, most non-binary people were just all using the women's bathrooms (including me) bc I'd rather feel a little weird than get harassed by random twitch bros for using their bathrooms.

So like. I guess they made an effort? And they worked with what they had, which was gendered bathrooms, but it was still a bit frustrating. Obviously the convention center and other venues need to work on this stuff but it would help if companies renting them out pushed for it.

[stormxpadme]

Whumptober 2023 No. 11 - Captivity

Scogan Bingo challenge Sneaking In/Out

Logan should have realized the moment the guy had walked into his cell, of course.

With his instincts worth shit right now and having spent the better part of the last two days drifting in and out of consciousness, he supposed though, even a feral could be forgiven some inattentiveness. It sure as fuck wasn’t due to this hideous disguise that his muffled sense of smell and blurry vision, his dampened earing, didn’t catch on immediately when some new janitor guy whom Logan hadn’t seen in this facility before started cleaning the room with a cheerful whistle on his lips.

Only when the guy went to work on one of the mirrored walls, displaying in detail the traces of everything that had gone down in this damn cell in the last three weeks, Logan suddenly was fixed by a pair of sky-blue, breathtakingly beautiful eyes. Pupils he'd never been allowed to look into before, and yet he knew that face coming with them ...

His own eyes went wide as recognition hit him in his starvation-knotted stomach like a freight train.

The silent What the fuck on his lips must have been plain to see for his unexpected visitor if hopefully not for the cameras in the corner, because fake cleaner dude shook his head at him in that reflection almost imperceptibly. His grip on the handle of some wiper in his hand which Logan only now realized was very faintly blinking orange, tightened slightly. Only when said LED signal turned to green, Scott let out a relieved hiss, never stopping his thorough tidying up though – knowing what a neat freak his dear team leader was, Logan could have bet, he was actually enjoying that part. Next, he started getting all that rusty red below Logan's stretcher off the floor which at least gave them the advantage that they could communicate from up close. "Audio jammer's active. There's not enough time to crack the cameras so keep ignoring me. Are you feeling half as shit as you look?"

"Look who's talking," Logan deadpanned, with a voice still quite hoarse from the last bout of screaming, careful to keep his lips or eyes from moving too much, no matter how badly he wanted to look at Scott again right now. Not least to really get it in his head that what he'd been certain at this point wouldn’t happen anytime soon, was true, that he'd been found … And by the last person he'd have expected to show up in this secret Weapon X laboratory no less. "Did you go to Stark's school of disguise or what?"

"Fooled you for a minute," Scott returned with only a very weak twitch around the corner of his mouth. The too-pale color under what was hopefully only temporary tattoos disfiguring his face revealed, he was still processing Logan's not-exactly-pretty appearance. Together with that ridiculous platinum blond buzz cut and apparently some inhibitor device that the guy must be carrying, a look that might indeed at least mislead the insane bastards working at these labs for an hour or two about having hired one of their arch-enemies. Hopefully enough to end Logan's own very unfortunate latest encounter with these assholes. "Enough flirting, we're short on time. Can you hang in there for another bit or do I need to blast us out immediately? I'd prefer to take this whole place down while we're at it but I'm not risking your life for that."

It was Logan's turn to shake his head almost invisibly lightly and force something like a weak grin on his lips, with as much of a shrug as the adamantium cuffs around his arms and shoulders allowed. "Had worse. What's the plan?"

There was no question that Summers had come here with one, given how much effort he'd put into his role, in spite of his almost palpable disgust about the feigned disregard and levity with which he had to regard Logan's bloody ordeal for now. If he was being honest, Logan would already have expected the kid to faint instead at this point. Sometimes he still had to remember that this guy was nothing like what Logan had thought when he'd stumbled into that damn posh mansion before Liberty Island, and that Scott in fact remembered more years of being at war than Logan could thanks to his amnesia.

"I brought you something to ... Jesus, Logan, can you wipe that look off your face? What, you thought we weren’t coming when you stopped calling?"

"Only surprised it's you, I guess," Logan answered truthfully after biting down arduously a new wave of pain wrecking his guts, a new noise from his bloody-bitten lips that this time became a subdued growl, now that he knew, that this was about to end soon. A pleasant surprise thanks to someone, of all people, whom Logan had half and half not expected ever seeing again after taking some time off from Mutant High to finally finish getting over Jean's death … and especially from what had started to develop between Scott and him out of the blue recently. That nothing had come out of that promising growing intimacy had not been any of Logan's fault, in any case. That was a fight against windmills he'd no longer been ready to engage in. Seeing where he'd promptly ended up, going solo again … Well, he didn’t need a few nights of meditating on it to admit, that might have been a mistake. "Could have sworn you'd have jumped right into that lake after Jeannie by now."

"Toyed with the thought until you left and didn’t show your face for months," Scott said soberly, a visible shadow darkening his expression that he hid by bending down next to the stretcher to get to a few especially dark blood stains on the rough concrete ground. "That was when I realized I didn’t want to lose someone else I'm attached to. So you better not think about clocking out on me here, because that's not happening."

"Slim …" Logan's throat suddenly felt even tighter than from that damn inhibitor collar choking him, stifling any attempt of escape from one inhumane experiment after the other. So he'd indeed not been imagining it what had formed between them in their common grief over the woman they'd both loved …

"Not the time." Scott's back stiffened defensively as he was rummaging in his cleaning cart, hopefully for something that would help Logan get out of this embarrassing situation quickly because he suddenly felt like dragging that guy into the next best empty room and kissing him senseless.

"You don't say." Logan winced and threw his head back against the resistance of the collar as the wolf of infection and poisoning bit down into his midsection once more, the cramp further ripping open the holes where a couple of organs were missing, obscenely on display thanks to the broad surgical clamps biting into inflamed flesh.

Scott had become another shade paler when he turned back to him with something carefully hidden in a new cloth but to his credit, he wasn’t looking like he was about to add a few more body fluids of his own to the mess on the ground. Which, from all Logan had found out about the guy with time, thanks to a few certain secret entries in Scott's file at Westchester, shouldn’t come as too much of a surprise. Plus, right now, there simply was no time for shock and fretting, and if there was one thing this man was really good at, it was compartmentalizing. "Hang on, we're almost done. Just can't risk them suspecting me not doing my work in here. But they won't put their hands on you again, I promise. What are they trying to do, anyway?" With just the slightest shudder, Scott regarded that mess of exposed flesh on Logan's lower stomach before visibly clenching his teeth and going back to those stains on the ground so he could finish this whole masquerade.

Logan let out a dry huff but that hurt too much, so he just dully turned his gaze back to the mirror right above his stretcher that should probably serve to drive the helplessness and humiliation home to him. Joke was on his captors, though. As little as he remembered about his life before losing most of it … The sight of lazily twitching intestines on display and torrents of red dripping from his shape wasn’t anything new thanks to his powers. In a way that Logan didn’t think he could have explained it to Scott especially, it was actually calming, seeing what these bastards were doing. As long as he was bleeding, he was alive, mostly incapacitated healing factor or not. "In general? Taking revenge for me offing Stryker, and challenging my healing factor to find out how to kill ferals. Right now? Seeing how long someone can survive without kidneys and dialysis."

"Lame," Scott judged from his crouching position, with as much strained humor as he could come up with, while some quiet clanking and clicking revealed, he was busy leaving some of said gifts on the underside of the bed, out of every camera angle. "Essex already did that study on me when I was 13. I should send them the thesis."

Logan suddenly didn’t feel a lot like joking. Knowing something in theory was a lot different than hearing details for the first time, because so far, Scott had understandably not wanted to open up to him about some aspects of his past so far. Not outside the occasional nightmare that Logan had woken him from in their nights of reminiscing and bonding at least. He found himself wishing he'd have had a chance to get a chance to get his hands on that Essex guy before Charles had sent the asshole in some mental limbo long before they'd all met. It was all the more a reason not to risk Scott ever going through something like this again. Not everyone came with a healing factor Logan's size. "You need to get the fuck out of here. If they find you out …"

"That's the job," Scott interrupted him sharply, every bit the team leader Logan had come to respect long before feelings of a whole different kind had started to emerge in him regarding this man. "Don't worry; situation's under control. I just needed to check on your condition before we strike. Guns and blades are right under your butt. Use them until your healing factor kicks in properly again. You can't afford to lose any more blood right now. I'm gonna help you off that thing in a minute but I'm afraid I'm gonna have to punch you in the face for that."

"Don't tell me you haven’t been waiting for that ever since you saved my ass from Creed back then." Logan made very sure to wait for Scott to get up again before rolling his eyes at him.

"Not since Alkali Lake," Scott replied with that strangely calm, almost gentle tone again before his expression took on an exaggerated aggressive, hateful touch for the cameras, his fist clenching around something. "Try not to swallow this. You've got enough shit in you right now that doesn’t belong there."

"What is it?" Somehow gathering what was left of his clear mind in spite of the current blood loss, Logan remembered he should better be doing his part of the show and showed his alleged enemy a vicious grin before throwing a few not-so-kind insults at Scott's head, with only his lips moving.

"Temporarily overrides the inhibitor ray. Wait till I left. You'll have five minutes." Scott's posture tensed as he prepared to deliver a blow he visibly loathed even for the show.

"Where do I pick you up?" Logan's eyes darted to the digital time display on the wall as a warning that it couldn’t be too long now before his torturers would be back. If he had anything to do with it, Scott wouldn’t be meeting these people, elaborate plan or not.

"Pantry. Gonna drop a little drug package in the water tank. By tonight, everyone here will be out of it enough for the army to sweep the place. You and I don't want to be around for that though." But Scott was still hesitating, much to Logan's dismay.

He decided to make it easier for the guy and took a deep breath before spitting a remarkable amount of thick yellow and red on Scott's shirt. The blow following was indeed harsher than expected and left him gasping for a moment but with said small device, lowly humming at the inside of his cheek a second later, Logan could almost immediately feel his powers starting to come back to life. Now they had to be quick. "Slim."

"Don't mention it." Scott hurried to pack all his tools into that cart again, with only a brief, satisfied look at these holes in Logan's body that were trying to close against the resistance of the clamps already.

"Wasn’t gonna. When we're home, we'll talk though." Logan made sure to let it sound like the order that it was.

He could see Scott smile a lot broader to himself in the reflection this time before approaching the door. "I'll take you up on that. Meet you on the other side, Claws."

An hour later, they were in the Blackbird and on their way home. And maybe for the first time since he'd come to Westchester back then, Logan was certain he wouldn’t be leaving again anytime soon.

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

@whumptober | @whumptober-archive

@scoganbingo

[spectraspecs-writes]

Manaan - Chapter 124

Link to the masterpost. Chapter 123. Chapter 125.

@averruncusho @ceruleanrainblues @chubbsmomma thank you for reading, you get a tag. @skelelexiunderlord thank you for support, you get a tag.

——–

For me, looking the part is not too difficult. I just pull off the robe tunic. I also stow my purple lightsaber in my pack, and hide my blue one under my pant leg. Mercenaries don’t use lightsabers. I didn’t realize how much I missed my swords. I put them on my belt. And easy as that I look like a mercenary. And you’d think it would be that simple for Carth, but it’s not. He has to leave his orange jacket behind. it’s too easily recognized as Republic colors. But it takes a good ten minutes to pick out some armor that makes him look enough like a mercenary to pass the first security checkpoint. Once he’s done that, though, we meet back up with Canderous and head to the Sith base.

As expected it looks just the same as any other Sith base. It’s very sterile. But it looks like they take this place seriously, if the four war droids are any indication. I’m not particularly worried, though. We have legitimate passes, mercenary passes.

The man at the checkpoint stops us. “Only people who have business with the Sith are allowed inside the embassy,” he says.

I let Canderous do the talking. He has experience here and as an actual mercenary he’ll hold up under scrutiny. “We have business,” he says, holding out the passes, “We were hired as mercs earlier today.” The officer takes the passes and looks at them closer. ‘Unless you’d rather we go work for the Republic.”

The security officer scoffs, but I can tell, he doesn’t want to get in any hot water for turning us away. “Hmph,” he sighs, “Yes, well, I suppose you really do have business here. Head on in.”

Canderous just gives a small nod and we move past the security desk towards the elevator. That’s the hard part done with, then. The elevator ride is still very anxious, though, and even though I’m certain I can handle whatever’s down there, I’m still annoyingly nervous.

The elevator stops. I take a deep breath. It opens. I let Canderous take the lead again. He looks the part more than I do. He presents our passes to the desk attendant, just like he did upstairs. And so far it looks like we’re in the clear. The desk attendant looks familiar somehow, though, and I can’t tell if it’s a remnant from Revan’s memory, my mind and anxiety playing tricks on me, or if I really have seen him before. Just act natural, Rena, just act natural.

But as I pass, he stops us. “Hold on a moment,” he says, looking at me, scrutinizing my face, “Weren’t you on Korriban a couple weeks ago?”

Shit. I remember. When I hacked the Sith Academy to get Dustil’s info, a Sith trooper got suspicious. I managed to lie my way out of it, but I probably only got away with it because he didn’t want any trouble for himself. And, probably, because he was about to get transferred and didn’t want to take the risk of ruining it. So he did get transferred, apparently, and got transferred here. Play it cool, Rena, act natural. “I’ve never been to Korriban in my life.” And try to keep moving.

He grabs my arm. Carth twitches, but keeps his cover. “No,” the Sith says, narrowing his eyes, “I remember.” He glances at Carth “You and your companion - you were both there!” Oh shit. Shit, shit, shit. “So… you were just a simple tech, transferred from the fleet, fixing something for a ‘Sith master”, were you?” He scoffs. “And now you’re trying to pass yourself off as a mercenary? What sort of fool do you take me for?” I pull my arm out, but escape won’t be so easy.

The elevator opens, and out comes the man from the upstairs checkpoint, followed by the four war droids. “Lieutenant,” he asks the trooper, “what’s the meaning of this? I checked their passes myself. They were hired on this morning.”

“Perhaps their passes were legitimate, Commander Grann,” the trooper says, “but they are not. I encountered them at my last posting. Whoever this woman is, she’s no mercenary. I suspect they’re Republic spies!”

The commander balks. “Sound the alarm! Droids, destroy them!”

Well, shit. It’s okay, I can do this. In a split second, I take a breath. Channel my nerves and anxiety, focus, just like Master Zhar said. Call the lightning to my fingertips. Disable the droids. Overload. I can draw my swords faster than my lightsaber, so I pull them and face the trooper. He pulls his own sword and brings it to meet mine. There’s a fire in his eyes, like he’s been waiting for a fight. Eager. And despite my display of the Force, he thinks this is a fight he can win. And frankly… he has a chance. There’s a lot of strength behind his sword, and more technique than I’m used to seeing from rank and file Sith soldiers.

What’s wrong with me? This man is not my match. I have faced worse threats than this, stronger fighters than this. Come on, Rena. Get off your ass. You can do this. Easy. He brings his sword down over my head but I catch it, scissoring it between my own swords. He tries to push down. I push back. He grits his teeth. Time for an unexpected move. Barely even thinking, I collide his head with my own. Which hurts like hell for me at least, and causes him to stumble. Uneven footing. I sweep his legs out from under him. And now I’ve got him on the ground. I deal the final blow.

But I find myself wishing I hadn’t. Not because I think he’ll be useful or anything. It’s just… like a shadow creeping up in my head. Making me question who I am. Like there has been for the past week. Focus, Rena, focus. You’re no good like this.

While I was focused on my trooper, Carth and Canderous must have taken care of Commander Grann from upstairs. Now Canderous is blasting the war droids for good measure. I decide to stick to the computer. The first thing I do is turn off the alarm. We do not need to deal with troops coming to defend the lobby, and hopefully this means we won’t have to deal with the police when we leave. Next, I don’t want to spend a whole lot of time in here if I don’t have to, so I want to know where I’m going. Best way to know is to check the security camera. Disassembly room - that’s where I’d put a droid I was trying to get information out of. Check the camera… that looks like a recon droid to me, and they are doing their damnedest to get the data core out. Odds are the main thing stopping them is a deceptively simple lock. Recon dories don’t have personality subroutines like utility or protocol droids do. Not generally, anyway. In fact, as far as dories go, there’s not a lot to them. A variety of sensors, a preset route, some basic cartography software, and that’s it. Sure, you can add more bells and whistles, but that just means more stuff that can go wrong. Once you’ve programmed your recon droid, it’ll carry out that programming until it finishes, gets recalled, runs out of power, or is otherwise impaired, like this one. When it’s done, you extract the data core, download the data, wipe it, and start again. Generally speaking, the data core is protected by whatever weatherproofing is appropriate for the situation. In this case, I’d imagine it’s completely watertight. But since this is also a droid for spying, the Republic wouldn’t let it go without some extra security surrounding the data core. Hence, a deceptively simple lock. There’s no computer to access the droid, so there’s nothing to hack. Sure, you could lease your way in, but then you risk destroying the data core.

Not to say there’s not a way to break in, of course. You can break into pretty much anything, depending on how much time and effort you put into it. They’ve had it for twelve hours and haven’t made any progress yet. All of this is moot, however, since I’ve got the key code to access the core, to open the deceptively simple lock. The information on the core still has to be decrypted, but that’s not my concern. I just need to grab the core and go.

“Are you seeing anything about those missing Selkath?” Carth asks.

To be honest I had nearly forgotten about them. Just focused too hard, I guess. “No, but then I was looking for the droid, give me a second.” Okay, Selkath. If I were the Sith, and I was trying to sway Selkath youth to my side, taking them into my base, where would I put them? I’d want to make them feel special, show them that all the hype, all the bad press about my organization just isn’t true. I wouldn’t trust the rank-and-file troopers that staff my base to maintain that facade, though. So access to them would be limited, if not eliminated altogether. So. A part of the base, with only one or two access points, with a dormitory section. Pull up a base schematic… Bam. “The north section of the base. That’s where I’d keep them.”

Carth and Canderous both look at the schematic over my shoulder. “Looks like a strategic spot,” Canderous says.

“I tend to agree,” Carth says - and the fact that he can say that without puking, I swear - “it looks pretty secure. But it also… looks a little too easy. Doesn’t it?” Canderous nods, sort of hums in agreement. Carth points out a relatively large room with no label. “That seems like a good place for an assault droid.”

Hmm. “Let me just check the power levels.” That’s a pretty high level for a room with nothing in it, as far as the computer is concerned. “Good hunch,” I say, “Just give me two seconds…” Alpha, alpha, double bar, beta, sigma, little red star… “Assault droids deactivated, force field down.” That probably won’t be the only obstacle, but it’s a huge one out of the way. “Droid first, then the Selkath. Agreed?” They nod. Cool.    

I follow the schematic down the hallway to the north. If I’m reading this map right, I take the only left, and follow it, then go left again to get to the recon droid. Before I open the door, I place my hand on it. Trying to see what’s on the other side. Echoes in the Force. “Three troopers and two droids,” I say softly, “One of the troopers has grenades, he’s in the corner.” I pull my blue lightsaber from its hiding place. I don’t think I need my purple one just yet. “I’ll take out the droids, then Canderous, you focus on the grenadier. Carth, you okay covering us?”

“You got it.”

Okay. Deep breaths, deep breaths. You can do this. Three… two… one… open the door.

It takes a couple seconds to fully process that we’re not Sith and we’re not supposed to be here, and those few seconds cost them dearly. I channel the lightning again, striking the droids down. Then, I go for the trooper closest to the recon droid. Canderous comes in right behind me and goes right for the grenadier. Carth’s focus shifts, but he mostly keeps an eye on the third trooper. It’s not long before all three are dead, and I can pull out the data core and put it in my pack. I put my swords in there as well, and take out my purple lightsaber. I’ve got a bad feeling about finding the Selkath. We’ll be able to find them, sure, and I know they’re alive because I saw it on the security cameras. But there’s a fight between us and them, I just know it.

[gimmiebackmysweetroll]

I'm writing fic about my Skyrim OC, Nolwenn, for Nanowrimo this year. It'll be Mercer/OFC and Erandur/OFC (Erandur is endgame, sorry Mercer). Hopefully I'll get this challenge done and then I'll do some editing, whip it into shape and get it up on Ao3. I'm sitting on 44% completion, so hopefully I'll get there before the end of the month. In the meantime, have a little snippet of Mercer being a manipulative little shit (affectionate). Content warning for adult language.

After returning to the Cistern, Nolwenn collapsed onto her old bed and pulled the covers over her head. The pounding in her head had come back with a vengeance after Brynjolf told her that Maven would likely be furious over Nolwenn inadvertently burning more hives than Maven had asked. Strobing, coloured lights danced in her vision though her eyes were screwed shut and the pain throbbed in her skull in time with her heartbeat. She found herself wishing Erandur were here. If he were, he would already be brewing that herbal tea that never failed to make her feel better after pushing herself too hard with magic. She could practically hear the gentle admonishments he would make, even as he fussed over her, brandishing tea in one hand and cold compress for her head in the other. She was sorely tempted to up and find him at the temple but she hadn't set foot in a Benevolence since leaving High Rock and her misery wasn't quite enough to make her break that streak. Almost, but not quite. 

Eventually, she drifted off to sleep as her fatigue won out over pain. It only felt like she had been sleeping for an instant when she was jolted back to wakefulness by someone kicking the bed frame. 

“Wake up.” 

She didn’t open her eyes but she knew who it was immediately, that abrupt, no-nonsense tone of voice was unmistakable. 

“Oh fuck off, Mercer,” she mumbled. “I'm sleeping.” 

“Up!” He insisted but she just rolled over on her front and buried her face in the pillow. “You never were a morning person were you? Want me to bring you breakfast in bed, Princess? Hm? Come on, get up.”

“-time is it?” Her voice was barely discernible as she spoke into the pillow. She felt the mattress shift as he sat on the bed, and supported his weight by placing a hand the other side of her. 

“Time for you to explain yourself to Maven.”

“Oh sod Maven!” She rolled over to face him, her irritation helping to wake her up properly. “I did what she asked.”

Mercer leaned down, bringing his face closer to hers. “You did not do as she asked. She told you to burn three hives.” He counted out on his fingers, “One, two, three, three. That was probably the simplest part of the job and that's the part you screwed it up.”

“Fire's not the easiest thing to control, if an ember got caught in the wind and settled on another hive, that's hardly my fault.”

“You were warned that those things go up like tinder, you should-” He stopped as she yawned and rubbed her eyes. “I'm sorry, am I boring you?”

She braced a hand against his chest to stop him leaning any closer. “Your pillow talk was always a bit shit, but this takes the cake, truly.”

“You need to take this seriously. She's furious, Brynjolf has managed to smooth things over with her, to a point, but you need to do damage control too. You know what she can do to you if you don't cooperate with her.”

“Don't ever think I don't take that seriously.” She rubbed the last of the sleep from her eyes and focussed on him properly. “What does she want? I assume she wants something?”

“She wants you for a job.”

“I screwed up and she wants to hire me again?” She rolled her eyes. “Makes sense.”

“She feels aggrieved, by you, so it's up to you to fix it.” The scarred side of his lips twitched into a smirk, “She's a sensitive soul really, stubborn too. You're quite alike in many ways.”

“She's a fucking venemous spider, she gets people tangled in her web and she doesn't let them go. I'm nothing like her.”

“I don't know,” Mercer said, still smiling down at her, “There's something about the way your jaw locks when you're mad, Maven does that too.”

Nolwenn glared up at him, the hand on his chest drifting across to his shoulder and down his arm. “Do you want me to slap you again?”

“Your jaw.” Mercer laughed softly, “You're doing it right now, Princess.”

“You are such an ass.” 

“You're more fun than Maven, I will say that.”

“Nothing about this is fun,” she insisted, even as her expression and voice softened. 

“I can always tell when you're lying.” He held her gaze as he spoke, “Admit it, there's a part of you that misses all this. Brynjolf told me you were grinning like an idiot when you got back to him. You enjoyed yourself, didn't you?”

She averted her eyes from him for a moment, thinking over her feelings about the heist. She looked back up at him through half-lidded eyes in a way that was dangerously close to coquettish. “It was satisfying, I suppose. Heists are usually exciting, you can't deny that.” Her expression hardened again when she remembered how frightened Aringoth had been, how she'd been deliberately cruel to get him to give up the key. “Aringoth was out of his mind with fear. That's the sort of thing I don't miss.”

“Aringoth had it coming, he should have known not to cross us.”

“You, Mercer,” she said, “He crossed you, not us. I told you, I'm not back in the Guild. I'm doing these jobs for Maven because I have to, not because I want to.”

He shifted his weight, moving his arm closer so it just touched her hip. “But you're good at it.” He used his free hand to gently arrange strands of sleep-tousled hair away from her face. “You've got a talent for infiltration and what are you doing with your life?”

“I like being a sell-sword,” she whispered. “It's honest.”

“It's a waste,” he purred, his finger lightly brushing the delicately pointed tip of her ear as he tucked a lock of hair behind it. “Skill like that should be making you rich but you're wasting your time killing frostbite spiders for farmers and getting paid in potatoes. Vex is good but she couldn't get near Goldenglow. You just strolled up to the door and let yourself in, that's fucking beautiful work, Princess.”

[concussed-to-pieces]

The Chance And The Change; Part Three

Fandom: Boku No Hero Academia/My Hero Academia

Pairing: (Eventual) Villain!Mirio/AFAB Shie Hassaikai!Reader

Rating: Holy shit M.

A/N: Welcome all, welcome to our third installment! Enjoy!

Tag List: @hijackser @nonstop-haikyuu @zombiexbody @buttons-beads-lace @moonchhu @swift-omg-no

Part One

Part Two

[!TRIGGER WARNING!: This installment contains verbal abuse, implied child abuse, allusions to previous abuse, canon-typical violence and discussion and use of medication/drugs (pills). Stay safe!]

Break into every agency until you locate the one that kid came from, Mirio. Find out more about him. I don't trust him.

Mirio yawned widely, then returned to clicking through the files in the system. He'd need to make a good show of it if he didn't want Overhaul to catch on. Of course he knew exactly which agency that hero had come from, that Deku character.

God, that name was driving him crazy! 

Togata had started at Gunhead's offices mainly because he figured it would be easier than the rest of them. Even if Gunhead himself was there, the martial arts hero didn't exactly pose a threat to a man who could turn himself intangible. Mirio knew he was still low enough on the villain food chain that there wouldn't be any tools developed for use against his Quirk specifically. 

Yet.

He grimaced, continuing to rummage for a few more moments before a familiar name caught his eye. 

Uraraka.

Mirio paused, selecting that document. Upon opening it up, the face of a former schoolmate met his eyes. The bubbly Ochako Uraraka had been in the year before him in high school, her and…

His back stiffened, recollection striking like a bolt of lightning. Izuku, Midoriya, Ochako had called him Deku! How had he forgotten?! Yes it had been years of no contact but…but Midoriya hadn't had a Quirk if Mirio was remembering correctly. What was he doing with someone as strict as Sir Nighteye without a Quirk? A diversity hire, maybe?

"Hey!"

Mirio had been so absorbed in his new discovery he had forgotten to adjust himself for the refresh rate of the room's cameras. It would seem that the building security had been alerted to his presence. 

Which meant that Gunhead would be on the scene in maybe two minutes. 

Togata carefully closed the file on the desktop, turned around with his hands up above his head, and flashed a grin at the three officers. "Don't suppose you'd buy that I got lost trying to find the bathroom?"

…

"Mirio."

"Yes?"

"How many times this week am I going to have to fix you up?" You queried flatly.

Mirio's laugh was a little stifled. "Is it that bad?"

"Yes." You hissed. "What the hell happened?!"

"Gunhead martial arts, mainly. He's fast!" Mirio chuckled, wincing.

"If this is how bad it is after a routine operation, I am not looking forward to my increased workload." You bemoaned, shoving his hair back from his forehead and tilting his head to the side. He seemed to have suffered mainly bruises but you didn't like the look of his right ear. The cartilage was puffy and red; he had clearly dealt with at least one hard hit.

"One down, anyhow!" Mirio said cheerily. "Ugh, I am really dizzy though."

"Yeah genius, I'm betting you took a good whack and he ruptured your eardrum." 

"Ah, that explains the loud pop I heard. It's hard to tell sometimes, my ears always pop when I use my Quirk." 

"Man, maybe I was a little overconfident when I said you didn't need help." You griped, the dull tingle of your Quirk traveling down to your fingertips. "You thought he would be the easiest one!"

"And he is! I just got distracted, that's all. I remembered where I know Deku from."

You raised your eyebrows, surprised. "Oh?"

"Yeah! We went to school together. He was a grade or two beneath me." Mirio explained, grimacing as you continued to work. "Oh, oh, shit that's itchy, why is it itchy?!"

"Just hold--dammit, stay put, stop squirming!" You wrestled with the twitching young man, ending up with one of his arms pinned beneath your shoulder to keep him still. "If you move this takes way longer. Tough it out, Schoolboy."

"Ah, it itches inside the ear though." Mirio replied sheepishly, his arm still jerking in your hold. "It's weird, it's like you're scratching my brain."

"You'd need to have one first." 

He laughed again, tugging at the side of your uniform playfully. "You don't have to be so mean, y'know, I get that I'm not too bright."

"Look, if you want my services you can endure my shitty bedside manner." You huffed, finger-combing his hair forwards and then moving on to assess the back of his head. The hair around the injury site was matted with blood and you cringed, gingerly placing a hand over the wound. "Jesus, I might actually itch your brain back here."

"He bounced me off the corner of a metal filing cabinet." Mirio supplied helpfully, flinching. "Sheesh, I need to train for someone like him. He was so fast, he had me off-balance from the first shot! Was all I could do to get away from the scene with my visor on." He fell silent after that, just letting you focus on your work.

Meanwhile, your stomach was in knots. Earlier in the day before Mirio had showed back up from his late night espionage, Overhaul had paid you a little visit. He kept things brief, simply informing you that the enhancers would stop immediately and you would be 'removed' from the organization if you ever touched Eri again. 

"I'm sure Schoolboy has woven you some incredible tale, but the truth of the matter is much, much uglier. She's a cursed child."

"Hey," you began quietly. "Has Overhaul talked to you about Eri?"

Mirio craned his neck awkwardly to look up at you. "Uh, no. Why?"

You chewed on your lower lip while you formulated a response, uncertain of how lightly you would need to tread. "No reason." You finally replied with a shrug. "Was just hoping you had some new info about her, maybe something to do with her Quirk?"

"Sorry," the blond man apologized, sounding genuinely contrite. "I haven't been able to get anything out of him at all recently." He grimaced. "Maybe he's tired of me."

Or maybe he's on to you and he's just giving you enough rope to hang yourself with, you thought wryly. 

After several minutes, Mirio broke the silence again. "I wanted you to know, that uh…that stuff I said the other night? I'm…I'm sorry. I didn't mean for it to come out like that." 

"'The other night'?" You repeated blankly. 

"It's not just that I think I have a better chance doing this with more than me involved, it's…it's you specifically, you know?" He mumbled, staring down at his hands. "You were willing to help, even though there's a really good chance we could get in trouble. I don't want you to think that I'm taking you for granted."

Oh. Oh. You swallowed, releasing his shoulder. "Don't worry about it." You attempted to bluster, giving him a thumbs up.

"I'm serious!" Mirio protested, grabbing your arm as you went to turn away. "Hey, I'm serious." He repeated, a bit quieter.

He was too close, and his eyes were too kind. You frowned, shaking him off. "I don't think you're built for this line of work, Schoolboy." Another poor try at deflecting, even weaker than the last.

"I don't think you are either."

…

Unfortunately, it seemed like Eri was the reason the whole operation was coming down around your ears. Overhaul was practically foaming at the mouth over the amount of pro heroes the governing bodies had seen fit to sic on him, but Quirk-negating bullets weren't exactly something the general public could afford to take lightly. 

Bad enough you get shot in the bargain, but your Quirk being obliterated too? That fate was a shade too cruel in your opinion. 

The atmosphere was stifling today; something was building and you were willing to bet it wasn't going to be pleasant. Everyone was on edge, antsy and itching for the other shoe to drop. 

"He's moved Eri, I have no idea where he's taken her." Mirio was in his full combat garb: white and gold with green trim and the flashy red cape that hung limp in the still underground air. "The heroes are coming and our only orders are to stall." His tone was curt, betraying his worry. In spite of the lofty goal of hero reform he often touted, Mirio was clearly displeased with recent developments.

"He probably just wanted to keep her away from the fighting." You reasoned, grimacing when he snorted in disbelief.

"More like he's trying to slink off with her and he doesn't care how many of us he has to sacrifice," the blond man muttered. "I promised myself we'd save that little girl, I just never found a good opening. Now it looks like we lost our chance."

"How heroic of you." You teased, knocking your elbow into his own. He didn't return the gesture though, his brow furrowed in thought.

"Today." He said abruptly, slamming a fist into his open palm. "Today. The heroes are coming for her, right? If we can just-"

"Whoa whoa, what's this 'we' business?!" 

"You're not going to help me? I thought we were–it's not right-"

"Yeah and neither is skimming off the top, bank robbery or burglary, all things I've seen you do within the last three weeks!" You cut him off hotly. "We do as we're told, and right now we're told to be cannon fodder. If you want to get her out of here, we need a better plan."

"No. I'm not waiting any longer on this. You can either help me, or stay the hell out of my way." Mirio snarled, his mind clearly made up.

"Fine then!" You retorted, "go get yourself arrested by some hero, since you're so damn determined! Good luck, Lemillion."

…

Throwing his alias in his face was like the final nail in the coffin. Mirio gritted his teeth, feeling his entire body bristle. "If I don't fight heroes," he tried to sound calm, and was sure he failed miserably, "I'll never get to my goal. You know that. Incarceration is just…a consequence of my conviction, that's all!"

"Orders are orders." You were so stubborn! It had been one of the reasons why he liked you, but now it was causing him nothing but frustration. Why couldn't you see that a measured response wasn't going to be good enough?! "If we're executing a plan, it should be one that we've ironed out way ahead of time. All of our plans so far are quarter-baked at best! Overhaul needs the kid, right? He's not going to just let us get her to safety." 

"This is the best chance we'll have though!" Mirio protested. "He's clearly distracted, especially dealing with the auxiliary guys from the League. If we take her-"

"Say we do manage to take her. Then what?" You interrupted.

"Then we…well, we give her to the pros!"

"Us." Your delivery was deadpan. "Two villains or, bare minimum, one known criminal, handing over a clearly-abused child. Yeah, how could that possibly backfire? Nevermind the fact that you and I would be out on our asses with the rest of the Hassaikai gunning for us. Overhaul isn't exactly the forgiving sort, and I don't want to spend the rest of my life anticipating a knife in my back." You jabbed a finger into the middle of the golden 1000000 on his chest. "You are strong, I am not. Shit, you could go be a hero if you wanted to be! Agencies would snap you up in a heartbeat if you cleaned up your act. But me?" You shook your head. "There's no place for someone like me in the freelancing Quirk world. I didn't exactly sign on with Overhaul for the free uniform."

"I…" Mirio paused, a little unsettled by your defeated expression. He had never seen you look like that! At least now he knew that you weren't refusing to help out of cowardice. "I just thought…"

I thought what? That we were friends, that we would stick together in this yakuza cesspool? That's so idiotic. We don't owe each other anything.

"I want to help her." You insisted. "I just want to do it right, y'know? I want to have someplace to go after…well, if we decide to bail. Uncertainty is what brought me to Overhaul. I don't ever want to be in that situation again."

"Whatever your situation was," Mirio argued, maybe a little hastier than he should have, "was it worse than the hell Eri is dealing with every day?! She's just a kid, she needs people like you and me to help her! The heroes won't get here in time, she needs us now."

"My situation is not something that you get to compare to hers." You muttered, glaring furiously up at him. "You don't know what the hell I've been through, and you can sure as fuck refrain from acting like you do."

Mirio regretted his rash words the instant he saw the rapid shift of emotion on your face. He knew many people with less-impressive Quirks had a difficult time in the world and it wasn't really fair for him to play 'pain olympics' if he didn't have your full story. He himself had suffered a fair amount of prejudice at the hands of people who thought he was useless. But…

If the heroes failed to get Eri out today (and they would if Chisaki wasn't dealt with), Mirio didn't know if a better opportunity would present itself in time. Eri had already been through so much–

An explosion rocked the tunnel and Mirio whirled to face the direction the impact had come from. "Sounds like the surface guys are out of time." He said with forced cheeriness. "Last chance to come with me and get Eri to safety."

You gnawed nervously at your lower lip until finally, you groaned in exasperation. "Fuck you, man, fine. But if I die I'm haunting the shit out of you!"

"Deal!" 

"What the fuck are we doing, what have you done to me." You grumbled as you fell into step behind the large man. "This is downright moral. I can't be seen in this state."

Mirio laughed, already feeling more confident. Oh sure, he could easily go do this alone! But having a partner was the smarter choice. Two people doubled the odds of success, after all! "Let's go save her."

"Yeah yeah, lead the way oh caped crusader."

…

You gripped Mirio's arm, sure that your hold was probably tight enough to bruise. But with Deidoro around it was better safe than sorry. At least your Quirk could keep a tiny bit of his Sloshed ability at bay, enough for the two of you to maintain your balance.

Both you and Mirio were panting and sweaty. With you in tow, Mirio wasn't able to really utilize his Quirk to find Chisaki, so it was more of a guessing game to determine his path. At least he had been able to check around corners quickly! Between that and dodging the hero patrols, it had been a long, heated sprint to catch up with the yakuza leader. You were relatively certain that more than a few of the pro heroes had seen the two of you, including one with kelly-green hair that looked suspiciously familiar. 

Oh well. In for a penny, in for a pound.

"Excuse me gentlemen, but we need to talk." Mirio began, his voice cutting through the still air like a knife. There was no way that Overhaul, Nemoto and Kurono hadn't noticed you following along behind them. To say nothing of Deidoro, the drunkard currently hanging upside-down from the plumbing above you and half-singing to himself.

Were they deliberately ignoring the possible threat? Or was Chisaki simply too confident? "You've got some explaining to do." Mirio continued, and you felt his muscles snap taut beneath your palm. "Why don't we have a chat about Eri?"

Overhaul turned, his eyes mildly curious over that signature mask. "You got here quicker than I thought you would."

"We took a shortcut. Give us the girl. We're here to rescue her."

You cringed inwardly, knowing that Mirio's words had just sealed your fate. You had known upon casting in your lot with him that you wouldn't exactly be favored amongst the Hassaikai, but you had hoped to maybe weasel out of becoming a certified, card-carrying enemy of the organization. 

"Now that you know the situation you've decided to play hero, eh Schoolboy?" Overhaul sneered. "You were happy being ignorant when it was convenient. Unfortunately for you and your little friend, Eri doesn't want to leave. You're no hero to her."

The blond man bristled at the boss' words. "I don't have to be one to stop you."

Overhaul sighed. "I'm not getting through to you. Allow me to be clearer." As if to mock Mirio, he and Kurono turned their backs on the young man, continuing down the corridor. "You're going to die down here."

Part Four

[sofiiel]

Chapter One : 𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐑𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐬 𝐑𝐞𝐝

Summary: Eddie is face with a crashing reminder of weight and potential cost of fame.

Warning: chapter contains gun violence and bloody imagery.

Table of Contents | Next

Gareth gave his head a shake as shouting came from the far right corner of the Green Room. Eddie's hands flew about as animated as ever as he tried to explain himself at the top of his lungs.

Your eyes looked up at Eddie as if pleading for the fight to be over. This had become tiring. All you could do now was hug yourself and try to make yourself louder, just to be heard.

"That's not what I'm trying to say. All I'm saying is-"

Eddie cut you off with a scowl, shrugging his shoulders, "That you don't trust me." he snapped.

Your eyes fell into a needled glare, "You're the only one I do trust in all of this." finally your arms flail out in frustration, flapping down at your side.

With a sharp turn to leave Eddie to the corner, you seethe the words "The only god-damn one. I'm not continuing this if you won't want to listen, Edward."

Eddie stood up straight, "shit." he thought. His eyes sliding over to the guys as the Green Room door slammed. "She called me Edward." he muttered.

"Of course she did, man. That's the ninth fuck up in three days." Jeff sighed.

"I didn't fuck up!" Eddie's eye twitched slightly as he wandered over to join the boy's game of spades. "I just, I've never been invited to a private after party before, how was I supposed to know that lady wasn't being friendly?" he said.

"I mean, if Lou Diamond Phillips, or Phil Demmel invited y/n off to lunch, she wouldn't guess why. She'd go! As she should." Eddie vented.

Gareth chuckled and looked at Grant, "Yeah, but it wasn't Lou Diamond or Demmel that invited you; was it?" Gareth said. "It was that seedy nightclub owner, Rebelle Stark."

"She's only been in the tabloids for five months trying to lure rising stars into her bed for the publicity." Grant muttered.

Eddie leaned back in his chair and leaned his head back. "Make up sex, I'll let her angry fuck me and it'll be fine. It always works." Eddie spoke under his breath.

"Dude, they got pictures of you leaving out the back door, with her shirt on." Jeff sighed.

"I was drunkenly trying on clothes, I didn't know they were Rebelle's. I was fleeing because she was being handsy not sneaking out." Eddie corrected them, voice slightly raised.

"We know that, don't we? The media don't. Y/n knows that too, that's what she was tryin' to tell you." Gareth stressed.

"You don't listen when you panic." Grant lulled dryly pulling a card from the stack.

"And you just shout. If you'd shut up, you would have heard her when she said she was concerned for you, and not what everyone thinks you did." said Jeff.

Eddie groaned and looked down at the cards on the table. "So, flowers and begging?" He asked.

"On both knees, and probably bring something shinny." Gareth said.

"I can ask Steve about what I should do." Eddie sighed.

"We're ok, it's gonna take more than bad media and spotlight starved desperate to ruin nearly a decade of awesome." Eddie said. Looking off, though, he had to wonder, Jeff wasn't wrong. It'd be one of many screw-ups.

Worse, he'd been the one jumping to conclusions more than Y/n had. Mistaking her tone for judgement or resentment.

Eddie sighed inwardly, "You know better than that." he thought. "I'll fix this tonight."

You hovered over the small kitchenette in your hotel room. The scent of caramelized bacon, stunning the senses. Eggs sizzled lightly, being slipped onto a slice of toast.

"God, let me hire you." Chrissy moaned as she held her twinkling finger out towards the plate.

You giggle, but those words make you want to cry. She'd come so far in her recovery.

Noticing your silence, Chrissy flashed you a smile, "oh come on, no." she said, "Don't you make this about me. You call me over to vent about you, remember?"

With a chuckle, you nod, "fine, fine." you sighed, taking a seat across from her at the table. Chrissy wiggled happily in her chair before taking a tiny bit of her egg on toast.

You'd yet to speak, so she looked you up and down and with a wave of her hand said, "well, on with it."

"Eddie and I had another fight..." you confessed.

"Shock and awe!" Chrissy gasped, hiding her mouth as she chewed. "I mean that's obvious, that's the sole reason you call me sounding like a lost kid in a mall." she hummed.

"It's fine, he'll show up with that 'oh no, I step on my cat's tail' look on his face and bang you into oblivion-"

"Chris!" you gasped.

She rolled her eyes, "and then all will be fine again for the next few days. It's just stardom, Nums. You two will be fine." Chrissy smiled.

You muttered under your breath, "Nums," in irritation. Ever since Eddie'd taken to calling you Num-nums in interviews, your whole circle had decided to use it.

"It gets better, if you tough it out. Trust me." Chrissy offered.

"You say that, but..." You eyed the grinning woman up and down cautiously, "You've been through six boyfriends, official 'yeah we're exclusive' boyfriends in three months. Six."

Chrissy shrugged and licked the bacon sugar off her fingers, "it's the NFL, what do you expect? None of them want to be tied down when they're wandering around looking like Adonis." she giggled.

"Two of them were writers. Chrissy, writers, the most hopless romantic romance starved creatures alive." you stressed.

Chrissy rolled her eyes, "yep, it happens. Jealousy, exhaustion, lack of time, conflicting careers. This is hard, Y/n." her words came out carefully.

"Its hard. But it what you wanted for him, isn't it?" asked Chrissy.

You bit your lip, "of course it is." you said. Chrissy smiled gently, "Then you'll be fine. This will all calm down, just let him learn how to handle it all."

"Y right." you exhaled. "You're right, I should learn to stop panicking after every fight."

"Of course I am." Chrissy chimed. "Besides, it's just what you two do. You ruffle each other's feathers like some weird mating dance, and then become the most sickeningly sweet creature anyone's ever seen afterward." she snickered.

Reaching across the table to give Chrissy's shoulder a playful shove, "shut up!" you giggle.

"Well, someone had to turn that frown upside down!" she giggled back.

The door knob clicked and clunking boots entered in.

"Babe? You here?" Eddie's voice called out.

Your body tensed for a moment as you glanced at the clock. You'd been sure it would take him longer to get back.

Chrissy flashed you a grin and took her plate with her as she stood up, "I'm stealing the plate! I'll see you tomorrow Nums!" she called, stepping around Eddie, she gave him a cheeky smirk.

"That is, providing you can get out of bed tomorrow." she hummed before exiting.

You sighed, running a hand down your face.

Eddie bit his lip, it was a call to Chrissy and not Nancy, so that had to be a good sign. With cautious steps, he inched towards you, the plastic of the store bought flowers rustling against his leather jacket.

"I um...about earlier..." Eddie fumbled. He was never good at saying 'I'm sorry' as many words always wanted to rush out instead.

"It's fine, Eddie. Really, I'll make you something to eat, and I'll go to bed." You sighed, turning around in your chair. "I'm sure you're tired, we can talk in the mor-"

Eddie dropped to one knee and for a moment you panicked. "It's, it's not what it looks like. I promise I'm dumb enough to try to pop THE question while you're pissed off." Eddie chuckled dryly.

He nestled the cone of flowers in your lap. A bushel of pale roses. "I'm sorry I never let you actual talk and just panic shout." Eddie murmured.

"Panic shout?" You asked him, a smile threatening to tick onto your face.

Eddie side glanced, rubbing the tip of his nose, "yeah, that's what the boys call it." he said.

Taking the flowers in your hand, you got to your feet and went to place them in water.

"I'm um sorry I screwed up again. I know I need to be more careful and think things through better." Eddie continued.

Going to the couch, he sat and started to exchange his boots for his worn white sneakers. "I'm sorry I accused you of being jealous and unreasonable... I know that's not you." sighed Eddie.

"It's never been you." He repeated.

Gently petting the petals of the roses, you turned to smile at him. "Really, Eddie, it's ok."

"No it's not, it's been like this for the past two weeks and I-" Eddie huffed, "Let me take you to dinner tonight?" He asked, a half-hearted smirk curving onto his lips, "let me use this new power for good instead of evil? Feed my girl instead of stomping on her last nerve?" He asked.

Eddie smiled at the sound of your soft laughter.

"Where'd you have in mind?" you asked.

He shrugged his shoulders, "Steve said anywhere that's not just pizza, so..." Eddie murmured.

"Aw, you went to Steve?" You sang, voice laced with withheld laughter.

"Yeah, yuck it up. But that guy is the master of escaping the dog house." Eddie mused.

He walked over to you, resting his hands on your shoulders, "am I allowed to kiss you, or?" he asked in a whisper.

The moment you nod your head, Eddie's warm lips press lightly against your forehead. Leaving to repeat against the corner of your eye before he stole your mouth.

It's a soft kiss, his hand cradling your jawline.

"Let's go eat," Eddie said, pulling away, "before I get carried away." he hummed.

You give his bottom lip a nip and turn to the flowers, "I'm taking a few with me." you said.

Eddie held the door open for you as you stepped into the night. This felt right again, he held that beautiful wide smile. The one that crinkled his eyes and his arm draped around your shoulder as he talked.

"Jeff brought a fan on stage and the girl ran straight for Gareth." Eddie laughed at his retelling of the show that evening.

"Eddie fucking Munson?" a voice called with a hint of a snarl.

Your eyes wandered to a man dressed in torn jeans and a Corroded Coffin Tee. You smiled at the fan as Eddie removed his arm from your shoulder, reaching into his pocket for a pen.

It had to be an autograph, that what the man must have wanted; or a picture.

"Yeah, man. What can I do for you?" asked Eddie.

"Not a damn thing, you fucking sell out." the man growled.

Eddie's gaze hardened, "Excuse me?" he asked.

"You heard me. You've led your band down the path of ass-kissery. You made us all believe that a real metal band would finally make it. Now look at you! Face all over commercials for big brands, playing in a venue that wouldn't give other musicians in the genre the time of day. Grinning at the worst rumor spreading brainrot TV hosts around." The man ranted.

Eddie placed himself in front of you. "Look, I don't know what you've read, but that not me. I'll gladly talk to you, man. But I'm with my girl." he tried to explain. Eddie tried hard to remain calm, thought a bitter anger started to boil.

The man reached under his shirt, "I used to be one of your biggest fans. Never missed a show, got all the tour shirts...you sighed my guitar." He rambled.

"Signed you guit-" Eddie exhaled as he peered at the man's face, "shit, I do know your face," Eddie whispered.

"Stuck up for you when my friends and band members dragged your name through the mud. Now I look like an idiot, and they kicked me out the band." the man raged.

Eddie's arms flung out, pushing you further behind him. "Wait, wait, wait!" Eddie urged.

"You ruined my dream!" The man shouted.

"That's not Eddie's fault! Please sir, put that away!" you cried out. Your eyes staring down the barrel of the gun.

"Ok, I'm sorry. Ok, we can talk. All you want, I swear, just put it away." Eddie tried to speak calmly, though his outstretch hand trembled.

"I'm done talking, You think you're the first? Many of my idols turned out to be nothing but trash, You're just the worst of them! You made us believe you!" the man raged.

Each word drew his tiger finger a little bit closer.

"Eddie." you whispered.

Eddie's jaw clenched tight as he held his breath.

"HEY!" Chrissy shouted, her heels clicking as she ran, holding a whistle to her lips she filled the night with a shrill sound.

"Chris!" You gasped, watching the small woman grab hold of the man's arms. "Leave them alone!" she shouted.

"Chri-"

A crackling pop caused the world to pause. The second it sounded, your body moved without your knowledge, pushing forward. Heat tore into your chest.

Breathing became hard and beyond the heat in your chest was a sharp radiating pain.

Chrissy continued to struggled against the man, filling his eyes with pepper spray as she screamed for helped.

Eddie's hands supported your body as your legs gave way. "No, no. It's ok, I’ve got you." Eddie's voice shivered. Lifting you slightly, he used his body to hold you upright, backing away towards the wall.

"Hold on, I'll set you down and call-"

Another shot fired, It came paired with a cry before a numbing pain rattled your head. Your body fell limp and your vision faded. Everything hurt and yet everything was stuck, unmoving, unfeeling.

Nothing was hot or cold, soft or rough. There wasn't a loudness to the world, no weight. Just pain and a persistent ringing in your ears, drowning out desperate yelling.

"What did you do!" Eddie shouted, crumpling with you as he broke your fall, arms and legs wrapping his body around yours. "What'd the fuck did you do!" he cried out, tearing his eyes away from the struggle.

Chrissy sprayed the last of her bottle into the shooter's eyes, running to you and Eddie while the man fled.

"Oh my god, Y/n!" she whimpered, hovering above the two of her. "Go call somebody!" Eddie urged, laying you gently onto your back. His fingertips gentle touching the blood from the tunnel carved along the side of your head.

Chrissy's knees shook.

"Go, Chrissy, go call somebody!" Eddie shouted, pointing down the street to the phone booth.

With a nod, Chrissy ran for it.

Eddie removed his jacket, balling it up he pressed it against your chest. "You're going to be fine, babe. I swear to you, you will." Eddie whispered, watching his tear drops slash against your cheek.

His eyes lingering on the few roses that'd fallen from your hands, pale pink and white petals painted red.

The sirens and the ride to the emergency was a distant blur in Eddie's mind.

He could vaguely remember furiously yelling at the paramedics, the nurses, and the doctors.

He could remember chucking all of his new shinny credit cards onto the hospital floor.

Chrissy desperately trying to pull him away from the doctor, who wasn't having his frenzied demands.

"I just want to see her." Eddie muttered for the hundredth time. His leg bouncing endlessly in his seat.

"I know you do big guy. But they're working on her now. Let them work." Steve said, his hand clamped firmly onto Eddie's shoulder.

Steve was waiting at the Steakhouse, He was supposed to help Eddie tonight with a surprise for Y/n. Then he got the call and was the first one there.

Steve glanced at Chrissy, who's red eyes watched Eddie with concern.

"I didn't know that guy from Adam and he just-" Eddie squinted, "had the nerve to, fucking - what the fuck gave him the right to-" He couldn't find or keep his words.

"I know, I know. Don't think too much on it. We trust the doctors. Yeah?" Steve tried his best to calm the flustered man.

Feet rushed into the E.R in a chaotic shuffle.

"What the hell happened?" Grant asked.

"Did-is she ok? What's going on?" Jeff questioned.

Gareth stood with his mouth opening and closing, unsure of what to ask or what to say. His face pale. "Is she...is she?" he stammered.

"No!" Eddie shouted, eyes shut tight, "no," he repeated quietly.

"No, no she's not. They're operating." Chrissy managed, lightly rubbing Eddie's back. "She'll be fine." she soothed.

"Did they get the guy?" Jonathan asked, going unnoticed behind the band. " I tried to leave a report with the police." Chrissy answered. Her eyes stuck on Eddie, "It wasn't a full statement, they want to speak to Eddie when he's...able." she said.

"If he's ever able." Steve murmured, giving Eddie's shoulder and squeeze.

With a lost daze in his eyes, Eddie fiddled with a small box in his hands, turning it round and round between his fingers.

"I need to try to call Y/n's family. I know it's...touchy, but they need to know." Chrissy sighed.

"You should probably contact your manager, let him know what's happened and that the band may need to drop the tour." Steve said to the boys.

"Someone should call Wayne, Eddie's gonna need 'im." said Gareth.

Morning rose over the city, passed out across the many chairs in the waiting room where various persons. A magazine lay draped over Grant's face while he slept. Gareth calling hogs while he used Jeff's shoulder as a pillow.

Steve's eyes fluttered open and shut as he nodded in and out, eyes trying to focus on the muted news on the TV. Luckily, what happened had not hit the media, yet.

Chrissy slept curled in her hair, trying her best to use her arms as a pillow. Mascara running and smudge onto the sleeve of her shirt. With a jolt, she awoke, fearful eyes glancing around the room.

She heaved a large sigh and bit her lip, fighting tears. "It's not a dream." she thought, settling down into place.

Steve sat up in his seat, "any news?" Chrissy asked him, voice hoarse.

"Not yet, a few alarms sounded back there but, they brought in at least three more people via ambulance." Steve explained.

"Could have been any of them." Chrissy added.

"Yeah totally." Steve said quickly.

Chrissy rubbed her sore neck, her eyes falling on Eddie, who'd also curled into his seat, his face knotted in that same distressed expression.

"How's he doing?" Chrissy asked.

"He's...um, doing? I guess. Only been sleep about two hours or so. Went mental on some poor guy who was star struck at so many famous faces in the lobby." said Steve.

"Can you blame him?" Chrissy asked, hugging herself. "It's how this all started, some fan out of nowhere." she sighed.

Chrissy and Steve simultaneously looked towards the box clutched in Eddie's hands.

"Please tell me that's not-"

Steve exhaled a shaky breath, "yeah," he lulled, sucking in his lips. "It is, it was." he said.

"Even after a fight?' Chrissy asked.

A failed chuckle exited Steve's throat, "Because of the fight. Eddie doesn't know what to do with how his life is changing. Idiot's doing his best, but he's shitting himself on a daily basis. He's the face of Corroded Coffin no matter how much he tries not to be. He's been thrown into the favor of most of the world after being a great big nobody, and he's doing it with who'd he'd easily call the girl of his dreams." Steve stated.

"And he's terrified that one wrong move will fuck everything up forever. Yeah, he's falling for some stupid shit, like real stupid shit - but, he's trying to push those wax wings to their limit. He bought a new house for Wayne, got his dad a new lawyer, paid for Y/n's business he'd always dreamed of. He wants to keep all that ~ but he's seen what can happen to couples who are unevenly balanced in this life." Steve sighed.

Chrissy frowned, "now you're making me nervous." she said.

Steve tilted his head, "why?" he asked.

"Your attitude has dropped from one thousand to sixty-five, and your face is way too serious." said Chrissy.

Steve frowned, " Yeah, well, I know what it's like to lose hold of the person you thought you'd marry one day." he said. "Fortunately for me, it wasn't like this."

Chrissy chewed her lip, "Do you think?" she asked, voice shaken.

"No, hell no. Y/n's always been a stubborn little shit," Steve chuckled. "Probably just taking time to plot her revenge in her head. She's totally going after that guy when she's better."

"I'm here! W-we're here! Where is she? He?" Robin's panic rambling filled the waiting room as she rushed in ahead of Nancy and Jonathan.

"Robin?" Steve questioned, brows raised high.

"Aren't you," Chrissy asked squinting, "Aren't you supposed to be in Italy?" she asked.

"Honeymoon got pushed back because I got a call regarding my client. There was a change in his case, so I've got another trial ahead of me." Nancy explained.

"Our plan stopped here, and I remembered that Jonathan was in town because of the tour, gave him a call for a ride to the hotel and..." Nancy's brows knitted together, "heard the news." she murmured.

"Damn, Byers you became everyone driver tonight, eh..day." Steve said.

"It's nothing new," Jonathan sighed, "and this time I'm happy to do it."

In one arm, Jonathan held a giant paper bag, and in the other hand a drink holder. "I pick up breakfast for everyone, and coffee. Nobody really slept last night and I spent it all explaining about the tour..." he said.

"Double shot?" Steve asked.

Jonathan laughed dryly, "Triple shots." he said.

Chrissy hoped up, "Oh, you're an actual angel." she sighed, rushing towards him and taking a cup.

"Did they catch the guy? Is anyone looking for him?" asked Robin.

"The police are out looking, yeah. No word on how that's going." Yawned Jeff, his eyes opening slowly.

"I smell Coffee." Grant muttered as Jonathan passed the cups around.

The doors to the Emergency room opened and out stepped the doctor Eddie'd threatened. He looked at the group, and the frown on his face was worrying.

"Doctor Jenner?" Chrissy questioned going to meet him with nervous steps.

"You're Ms. Cunningham? Listed on her file?" Jenner asked.

Chrissy fumbled around in her purse, "Y-yes, um," she pulled out her driver license and handed it over. Jenner looked the tiny card over and lead Chrissy away from the others.

Looking Chrissy dead in the eyes, Jenner spoke quietly and clearly, "Y/n is stable for the moment. It was touch and go. It's still touch and go. The first bullet collapsed the left lung, but it could have been worse. We've removed the bullet and fragments. There's currently a chest tube in place." He explained.

Chrissy nodded her head absently, blinking away the water in her eyes.

"We've moved her to a private room and have gotten her as comfortable as we are able." Jenner added.

"So, can we see her now?" Chrissy asked hopefully.

Jenner exhaled, "she may receive visitors in around thirty to forty-five minutes, yes." He paused, "but you should know..."

After bidding goodbye to Jenner, Chrissy stumbled back to the group. Shaking her head lightly and ruffling her hair.

"Chrissy?" asked Jonathan, as no one seemed to want to break the silence.

"We um...we can see her in about thirty to forty-five minutes, they moved her to a room." Chrissy spoke in a daze.

Eddie's eyes opened as he slowly pushed himself up in his seat. He watched the water droplets hang from Chrissy's eyes lashes. "But" he lulled with caution.

Chrissy gave her head another shake, "They induced her. So..." Chrissy said.

"Well, that's good, right. That's a good thing that usually helps." Robin stammered.

"The second bullet fractured her skull, she had swelling and um, she needs about three more operations to fix that and one to assess just how band things are. They want to keep her out until then but, the chest tube needs to do it work." Chrissy continued on.

"Jenner doesn't want to risk putting her under with one lung down." she said.

Eddie exhaled long and slow, "fff-fucking christ..." he whispered, pulling his hair back.

"It went through though, clipped her skull rather than...you know." said Chrissy.

Nancy looked at Eddie with concern. "How are you feeling?" She asked him carefully.

Eddie bowed his head, eyes looking down at the blood crusted on his shoes. His shoulder began to shiver.

"Oh," Nancy exhaled, "oh no, hey," she hummed going to him with quick steps. Nancy lightly rubbed his back. "It's ok, right? The doctor would have told us if it was bad." she said.

"Come on, Eddie." Gareth said going to him as well.

Chrissy bit her lip, "Nancy's right, Eddie. Don't make yourself sick just yet."

Eddie stooped, squatting near the ground, he pawed at his eyes. "Just tell them to fix it. I don't give a shit what it costs, they can have my left and right arm, just....tell them to fix it." Eddie murmured.

He held his stomach, "I think I'm gonna be sick." he said.

"Hey! Can we get a bucket or something!" Steve called out, turning towards the front desk.

Table of Contents | Next

[cafedanslanuit]

˗ˏˋ fitness instructor porco galliard ´ˎ˗

♡   —   pairing: porco x reader

♡   —   tags/warnings: afab reader + no pronouns, college/university au, some spanking, semi-public, oral sex (m and f receiving), overstimulation, shower sex, once they're a little tipsy but not drunk, porco being a cheeky bastard but also being really sweet <3 oh! he lifts you up easily, regardless of your body size. he's a strong guy 🥴

♡   —   a/n: tagging @fierydiamond and @ofoceansandtombstones 'cause they were there when i had the brainrot <3

♡   —  masterlist

fitness instructor porco who is always wearing a tank top when he's working at the gym. and of course, you can't help but stare at his arms when you think he isn't looking. they're perfect, toned and defined, not too big or inflated like other guys you had seen around. it was probably the first thing you noticed about him when your friends pointed out there was a new hire. later that day, you catch yourself wondering how would his arms look if he caged you against―

fitness instructor porco who even though he usually has a frown on his face, is kind the first time he approaches you. he prevents you from lifting too much weight with your legs and injuring yourself. you feel your cheeks heat as you watch him fix the machine and then instruct you how you should be doing the exercise. you thank him for his help and you swear you see the corner of his lips twitch in an amused smile before he walks away.

fitness instructor porco who happens to be an architecture student when he's not at the gym. he tells you all about it when you run into him after one of your workouts. there's only one empty spot in the cafeteria's bar and you end up sitting next to him as you eat your lunch. his job as a fitness instructor is only a part-time thing to help him with the bills. you end up talking for an hour before his boss orders him to go back, and this time you don't miss his cheeky smirk when he tells you he'll see you around.

fitness instructor porco who is always casually around you every time you are working out. doesn't matter if you're lifting weights or running on the treadmill, you always see his pretty ass around, ready to give you a hand if you ask for him. after a couple of weeks, he's actually surprised when, just as he was about to leave the gym, you close your hand around his arm and stop him. "is it okay if i buy you a drink― or well, a smoothie or some healthy shit?" you laugh. "you've been helping me so much lately." porco nods, a smile dancing on his lips. "a drink is fine."

fitness instructor porco who you kiss after a few drinks at that bar down the street. he kisses you back just as eagerly and soon you're moaning his name while he fucks you on your bed. he has a hand on the small of your back, lifting your hips as he fucks into you deeply, groaning against your neck about how good you're squeezing his cock. after that, he eats you out for what it seems like hours, orgasm after orgasm hitting you until your body gives out and you drift off to an easy sleep.

fitness instructor porco who you honestly thought would set you aside after what happened in your apartment, yet when you go to the gym cafeteria on the next day determined to skip leg day 'cause you're still sore, the bartender lets you know someone paid for your favourite smoothie in advance. you turn around only to catch porco as he pretends he's looking down at his phone. smiling, you accept the drink and then start your workout with the best mood you'd had in weeks.

fitness instructor porco who can't keep his hands to himself when you're at the gym. he doesn't want to get fired, but he'll always manage to find a way to give your ass a light smack when he's passing by. he also likes to take sneaky photos of you as you work out, especially when you're doing squats. while you always roll your eyes at his antics, you find it sweet that every time you go to the cafeteria after your workout, he has already prepaid your drink of choice.

fitness instructor porco who is slowly earning the title of 'best boyfriend' all by himself. when he's not working, he picks you up from your classes and carries your bag as you walk down the street. one of your favourite to-go places is the drive-in movie theater, where, depending on your mood, it can end up in the two of you holding hands with a silly smile on your faces or you leaning down to the driver's side until porco is coming inside your mouth with a choked-out groan.

fitness instructor porco who feels his blood boiling when he sees reiner helping you with a chest press at the gym. for him, reiner is only flaunting his strength as he holds the weight over you and explains how you should be positioning your arms. thoroughly annoyed, he huffs and tries to focus on his job for the rest of the day. however, he makes sure to fuck you in the gym shower's later that day. he puts a hand over your mouth as he easily lifts your body and presses it against the shower tiles, loving the way your eyes roll with every hard thrust he makes.

fitness instructor porco... yeah <3 just that <3

[autisticlancemcclain]

The end of this Skype meeting from hell was rapidly approaching, and Shiro was so close to relief he could taste it.

The team was attempting alliance negotiations with a new planet, but the entire planet was so incredibly toxic to Alteans that they felt it may be best to just have their meeting over a video communications link. Was it as shitty quality as a Skype call? God, no. The quality was incredible, Shiro could probably count every visible pore on the Queen’s face. But the plastic smiles and unbearable tension known of office-style Skype calls were evident, so Shiro was going to continue calling it a Skype in his head. The ‘from hell’ part of the description was due to the discomfort crawling up everyone’s throat — this Queen in particular was known to be temperamental and easy to offend, so everyone was walking on eggshells.

“Well, I believe that everything is in order,” said the Queen. Finally.

Some of the tension bled from Allura’s shoulders, and her smile turned genuine.

“Excellent! I’ll send you the forms —”

“One last thing,” interrupted the Queen. Allura’s smile froze, and her eye twitched. There was quite possibly nothing she hated more than being interrupted, and there wasn’t even anything she could do about it.

“Of course,” Allura replied through gritted teeth.

“Wonderful,” went the Queen, equally as passive aggressive.

Not for the first time, Shiro wished Adam was here. He was the master of passive aggression. He would have this bitch beat in minutes.

“Paladin Hunk,” continued the Queen, turning her gaze on the Yellow Paladin, who jumped slightly upon being called so abruptly but schooled his expression into a pleasant one.

“Yes, Your Majesty?”

“I’ve heard you are quite the culinary master. Many of my people had the pleasure of tasting your food at Vrepit Sal’s, and have spoken endlessly of how you turned his food from failed embarrassments to pure edible pleasure.”

Hunk smiled, clearly pleased that his efforts were so widely recognized. Some of the wariness lifted from his features. “That’s very kind of them to say.”

The Queen nodded. “Yes. I figured since you are so knowledgeable, you may be able to help me with a problem of mine. My —” her lip curled — “stepson has insisted that we each take turns cooking ‘family’ dinners ourselves instead of hiring a cook. I can’t fathom why the foolish child would ever want such a thing, but my husband insists we indulge him, and I’ve never had to bother with such petty tasks myself before, so my first attempt was a disaster,” she huffs, shaking her head. “I had to force the ingrate to eat it because he insisted on me making it, but he complained the whole time it was too salty. And so my question for you: how can I fix a dish when it is too salty?”

Hunk’s face had completely soured, and his wasn’t the only one. Hearing this already entitled and rude Queen speak so horribly about her young stepson was hard to hear, and made it very difficult to want to help her or her planet.

Hunk paused before answering, face flat and judgemental. “Start over,” he said drily.

Shiro choked. The Queen’s — now furious — face whipped towards him, and Shiro clapped a hand in front of his mouth.

Fuck fuck fuck. Think of unfunny things. Uh, Iverson’s constant stories of his summer in Italy when he was 14. Nuclear physics. Literally anything but the sound of Lance losing his shit or you’re going to lose it too. You have a reputation, dingus, please please focus.

With the strength of a thousand suns, Shiro managed to choke down his laughter, despite the shaking shoulders and rapidly reddening faces of the rest of the team.

“So sorry about that,” Shiro said, voice shaking. “Tickle, in my throat. Ahem. Shall we send you the forms?”

The Queen glared at them, taking a moment to glare at Hunk specifically. He looked entirely unbothered, pretending to check his nails. Lance was a mess of desperately held-in giggles on the floor next to him. Keith was turning purple with the attempt to keep his mouth shut. Pidge had completely given up and turned so her back faced the Queen, fist shoved in her mouth.

“Fine,” the Queen spat. “I’ve tired of Voltron’s blatant disregard for professionalism, anyway. And to think the maturity and grace of that Black Paladin is talked about at every interplanetary gala. Phooey. Send the forms to my handmaidens.”

The Skype ended.

There was a beat of silence.

Shiro glanced at Allura. Their eyes met for one half second.

Shiro lost it. Completely bent over at the waist, wheezing, barely able to breathe. Over the sound of his own laughter he heard Allura giggling as well, along with the rest of the team. Hunk surveyed them all, smirking like the cat that got the cream.

Shiro doesn’t know what he’s gonna do with these damn kids.

———

more of shiro being a loveable loser here

[rozcdust]

My love is a sniper

Pairing: Kakucho Hitto x gn!reader

Genre: Crack, a little bit of angst, mentions of NSFW

Word count: 1.6k

Warnings: Canon divergent, violence, murder, substance abuse, profanity, Reader is killer for hire

pt. 1 | pt. 2 | pt. 3

Kakucho was too good for you, not like you needed to be a genius to figure that one out.

He was sweet, attentive, supportive beyond what should be supported, hot as fuck, didn’t ask too many questions, overall a 10/10, a fucking jackpot.

And you thought the relationship was working. You went on cute dates all time, he kissed you and told you he loved you, the sex was brilliant, and, okay sure, neither of you two really knew what the other one was doing as a job, but fuck it, you made it work anyways.

So to say you were a bit salty at the way he broke up with you was an understatement.

No, you weren’t a bit salty, you were absolutely enraged. You had to be physically restrained from marching to his apartment and knocking some sense into his stupid, pretty head. That was a bad day for everybody involved.

Staring at your phone for the 10th time in past 20 minutes, you kinda wanted to bang your head against the wall, like, sure, you weren’t an ideal partner, but breaking up over text? Really Kakucho?

You wanted to fling your phone across the fucking room.

And that is how you found yourself in your mechanic’s shop, angrily venting, utterly ignoring the fact you knew neither of the pair could care less.

“And he just left it at that! Like come on, elaborate a bit! What the fuck does he have to be so cryptic for?!”

Draken hummed, not really paying attention. He was more focused on trying to fix the bullet hole in your engine.

“And sure, am I the ideal partner? Not really! Did I sometimes not respond to him for hours and was that a bit shitty of me? Sure, but I had people to kill! I at least deserve a goddamn explanation.” You were huffing and puffing at this point, and Inui would have found it adorable if he wasn’t scared you’d break one of the cars in the shop.

“And he didn’t know you were a sniper?” He inquired, rolling out from underneath the car he was fixing to look at you.

You rolled your eyes.

“Sure, Inupi, I told him I was a sniper on the first date, that fucking tracks! Like, hello, I’m y/n, nice to meet you, oh how do I have all this money? I kill people for a living, wanna fuck? I’m sure that would- oh my god what if he found out?”

Draken looked up from your bike.

“You think he maybe figured it out? If it’s that, that seems like a valid reason to break up to me.”

You flung the first thing on hand, a wrench, at his head. Unfortunately, he dodged, making you even more irritated.

“If he figured it out, he could have at least talked to me about it!”

“I don’t know y/n, if I found out my partner is a killer for hire, I wouldn’t exactly exclaim that is the reason I’m breaking up? Better to make myself seem like the problem, ya kno-“ Before he could finish, Inui was interrupted by a kick to the ribs, “Well that’s just rude.”

You could feel your eye twitch.

“Whatever, I’ll get a job soon enough anyways. Who gives a fuck about him, he’s dead to me, I might kill him myself, who cares! Right? Right, guys?”

Both stared blankly at you.

You huffed.

“You’re useless.”

Everyone in Bonten was tired.

They all could see Kakucho was not doing well, even Sanzu, who was usually either too high or too busy wagging his tail after Mikey to notice anyone else.

Frankly, Kakucho looked like shit.

Which is what led Kokonoi to turn the meeting into an intervention, since he could tell Kakucho was absorbing none of the information, instead blankly staring at the table with such a depressing look on his face that Koko wanted to punch him.

“Kakucho.”

Suspicions confirmed, the motherfucker was not listening.

“Kakucho Hitto? Earth to you.”

Now everyone was staring.

“KAKUCHO!”

Nada.

Well, Rindou was done, so he decided to do the rational thing.

Ran wasn’t sure if throwing a chair at Kakucho was really necessary, but hey, it did the trick.

“WHA- WHAT THE FUCK HAITANI?!” Already off the floor, Kakucho looked as if he was about to smash Rindou’s skull open.

“Uh, no Kakucho, the fuck is up with you? You don’t listen, you barely eat. You look worse than Mikey.” Kokonoi butted in, pulling Kakucho back down onto his seat.

Mikey shot a glare at Kokonoi, but had to agree.

“Koko’s right, ya know? You look like a kicked dog. You’ll get someone killed if you keep going like this, so spit it out, what’s wrong?” Mikey was genuinely curious.

Kakucho’s only response was sinking further into his chair.

Ran held Rindou back from throwing the table.

Kakucho sighed. “Y/n and I broke up.”

Silence. Until, of course, a certain crackhead had to express his highly valued, absolutely useless opinion.

“Damn dude, you should have told us. Want them killed?” Sanzu asked, receiving a smack with rolled up newspapers from Kokonoi.

“You. Aren’t. Helping.” Kokonoi practically hissed.

“Did they tell you why they broke up with you? Any explanation at all?” Rindou asked, trying to conjure up some empathy from his three mostly blank braincells.

Kakucho sheepishly scratched the back of his head. “I- I kinda broke up with them?”

Well, that was it for Rindou, back to elevator music his brain goes.

“What.” Ran deadpans.

It seemed like that was what broke Kakucho, as he started rambling.

“They’re just- They’re too good for me, okay? They’re sweet, and understanding, and sure they have a temper but they never take it out on me and- and I never told them what I do, I never told them about Bonten, I’m only putting them in danger, shit, I didn’t even have the courage to face them, I broke up over text an-“

Kakucho’s rant was interrupted by Sanzu’s hysterical laughter, while the Haitani’s looked absolutely baffled. Kokonoi seemed like he was on verge of a seizure, and Mikey was just trying to open his snack as loudly as possible.

“So dude, you’re telling me, you broke up with them over text? And now you look like a sad puppy?” Sanzu’s words were barely legible from his maniacal laughter. He looked as if he was gonna choke on air alone.

“Pull yourself together, man.” Was Ran’s very helpful piece of advice.

Mochi and Takeomi, who just walked in the room, assessed the situation for a second. Upon seeing the flipped chair, Kokonoi pinching the bridge of his nose, Kakucho looking as he was gonna shoot himself right then and there, and to top it all off, Sanzu doubled over with tears in his eyes from laughter, they decided to turn on their heel and peace the fuck out.

Kakucho was growing more and more miserable by the second.

It’s been weeks since the whole “You don’t know who I am” debacle and you were nearing your fucking limit.

Were you gonna admit you missed him? Hell no, that fact is between you and god alone, and you were a petty bitch, you could barely admit it to yourself.

But by week three, you had to admit it to yourself. You missed him. You missed waking up on cold mornings next to him, you missed waking up and tip toeing out of your bed to make him breakfast, you missed pulling him back into bed when he tried to get up.

You two were together for 6 months, which, sure, wasn’t too long, but you let yourself get domestic, mistake number one.

You tried everything. Binging ice cream, watching mindless television, day drinking, midnight drives around the city on your motorcycle, sleeping around.

Nothing worked.

Everybody else felt wrong, looked wrong, smelled wrong. You needed Kakucho, and no one else would suffice. Some poor guy you hooked up with even tried to make you breakfast the day after, and you may have felt guilty for the way you reacted if you weren’t still pissed. You physically kicked him out your apartment, throwing his clothes and belongings after him, practically screaming at him to get the fuck out.

Everything remind you of Kakucho.

You were gonna lose your fucking mind, so when work called, you answered.

Your client chose a fancy restaurant to meet in, and you didn’t mind until you arrived, and like a baseball bat to the face from god, it was the same one Kakucho took you out to for your first date.

You took a few minutes to calm down and vandalise the nearest trash can. It did not help getting your anger out.

“Well, look what the cat dragged in. You’re late, Trickshot.”

If looks could kill, your client would be scalped right now. You slipped in the private booth, sitting across from him.

“Cut the bullshit and show me the job.”

“Wow, not even hi, hello, nice to meet you? Well, here are the files on your targets. They’re our rival gang, but we managed to set up a meeting with them.” The client slid the files to you, and you briefly glanced over the face on the first on top.

Shit, that tattoo on the back of his neck looked really familiar. You really should try to apply yourself and pay more attention what goes on in the criminal world.

“We hired another sniper alongside you, not that you wouldn’t be able to do it yourself, but just in case. On the date specified in the file, I want you to set yourself up in the nearing building, and kill them all. Half of the money is here, you’ll get the other half after the job.”

You grinned, taking the suitcase from the man and flipping it open. The amount checked.

“I’ll be there.”

The smile on your client’s face looked borderline manic.

“We got a deal then. Let’s toast to that, Trickshot.”

[popdrabbles]

Spare Me - Handsome Jack / Reader

Find me on Ao3 @ xicarusx

Find me on tumblr @thetruth-isouthere

✨requests open✨

Tw: death, gore, gun violence, injuries

Smoke billowed above the town of New Haven, bodies lay in heaps on the streets where they were gunned down by Hyperion workers. Several buildings were on fire, others were simply smoldering ash by now. The windmills creaked overhead, the only sound that could be heard throughout the entire town aside from the Hyperion workers. They had descended like moths to a flame, overwhelming the pandora citizens and the ex-Crimson Lance soldiers that called New Haven home. They never stood a chance. Somewhere in the distance, Jack could hear the sound of Wilhelm shouting at other workers and even other bots, sometimes Jack hardly recognized him, he was nothing like he was when they had first met on Helios when Jack hired him to help him save Elpis. Then again, neither was he. He sniffed as he walked through the now desolate streets of the city, whistling to himself as he rode off the high of his heightened emotions. His plan had gone off without a hitch, Helena Pierce was dead. One less obstacle on his journey to the Vault, on his journey to greatness. It had been so long since he had felt such power as he did standing within the walls of New Haven, getting his hands dirty instead of sitting up in his comfortable office. He had to see this one done himself. Jack held onto his pistol as he walked through the streets, kicking in the doors of buildings that still stood, checking for any signs of survivors. He couldn't leave anyone alive. Though he had considered leaving a few alive, to spread the story, to tell the people of Pandora, and any of the people who thought that they could stand up to him, to stop him from doing what he had set out to do. But that idea quickly left his mind the minute he had set foot in this god-forsaken town, hell, on the surface of this shit hole of a planet. He would clean it up, all in due time, Jack would fix this planet, he would restore order, and no one would stand in his way.

He stepped into the center of town, looking around the square slowly, checking for any signs of life. He figured there was no way anyone had survived, after Jack had put a bullet in Pierce's head, Jack ordered the rest of the survivors that had tried to escape with her to be murdered. Wilhelm seemed more than happy to oblige his demand. He had become more of a beast since their time on Helios. Jack dragged a hand over his face, smearing the blood that had coated his mask. He peered over his fingers at the rubble. At the devastation. At his victory. The corner of his mouth twitched slightly as he admired his work. This is how it was done. One town at a time, squashing one resistance at a time, that is how he would win. He dropped his hand with a groan, he was just about to call it quits on his search for any survivors, turning to leave and holstering his pistol when he caught movement out of the corner of his eye. He glanced over his shoulder at a pile of rubble, several bodies lying on top of it. He pulled his gun out again, letting it hang limply at his side. He raised an eyebrow as he began to walk over to the pile of bodies. It could have been anything, a Skag that had come for a meal, a Spiderant, or hell even a large rat. But no, it was none of those. Jack stopped as one of the bodies fell to the ground in front of his feet and he saw a set of arms struggling to shove the remaining bodies off. He stood back and watched as you wiggled yourself free from the rubble and the dead that you had covered yourself with in an attempt to hide. You must have thought that trying to escape with Pierce was a bad move, unfortunately, this wasn't going to end any differently. He watched as you staggered to your feet, only to collapse to your knees in the dirt, surrounded by the dead bodies of your neighbors, perhaps you had even called some of them friends. You were covered in dirt and blood, though it was difficult for Jack to discern if you had any injuries of your own. Your head hung as you swayed slightly where you kneeled, staring down at your hands. He almost felt bad killing you, you seemed too pathetic, weak. He stepped forward, pulling the hammer back on his pistol as he raised his gun and pointed it directly at your head. Your head had shot up the minute you had heard the sound, your eyes wide with fear. Your face was caked in blood, your left eye swollen shut and you were covered in various scrapes, cuts, and other moderate injuries. He watched as your eyes flicked to his gun, to his face, and then back to the gun.

"Please..." You croaked out, "Please don't kill me..."

He knitted his eyebrows together in confusion, though he could feel his heart flutter in his chest at the sound of your words.

He watched as you swallowed, watched how the veins bulged in the sides of your neck. He rested his finger on the trigger, but he didn't seem like he was ready to pull it. To put you out of your misery. You slowly raised your hands, he saw how they shook. You didn't want to die, did you?

"P-please... I'm begging you," You whispered, your voice cracking as if you were on the verge of tears, "please don't kill me..."

You were begging for your life? Did you have any idea who he was?! Begging for your life to Handsome fucking Jack? How rich. He looked you over carefully, checking you for any weapons. You appeared unarmed. You appeared scared. Jack felt something stir in him, an unsettling feeling that he couldn't quite place. It was a familiar feeling, yet foreign at the same time. He stepped closer to you, placing the barrel of his gun against your forehead. He heard the way your breath hitched at the feeling of the hot metal against your skin. Then the tears started, mixing with the blood and dirt that coated your skin.

"Please!" You cried out, scrambling back some only to find yourself barricaded in by bodies, Jack only moved with you. He figured you should have considered yourself lucky that he didn't pull the trigger that instant.

"What makes you think I would let you live, kiddo?" Jack asked quietly, his voice low, "I killed every other bandit friend of yours... why are you any different?"

Your bottom lip quivered and you shook your head, "No! No! I'm not a bandit I swear... I-"

Jack tutted softly, "You look like a bandit. You smell like a bandit. Hell, pumpkin, you even live with bandits. That's good enough for me." He hissed as he dug the barrel of his gun into your temple and you choked out a sob.

You shook your head pathetically, staring up at Jack as if getting him to look at you would change his mind.

"I'm just a mechanic! My last town was destroyed. I didn't have anywhere else to go!"

Oh and here we go with the life story. He wasn't sure why he was entertaining this, he had heard this all before, 'oh I have a family!', 'Oh, I have a wife!', 'Oh, please don't kill me I'm just a janitor blah blah blah pfffbtl'. Your story wasn't any different than anyone he had killed before you.

"I didn't have anywhere to go..." You whispered, but your pleading only became more desperate as Jack began to slowly squeeze the trigger. Why was he drawing this out?

"I just need to be somewhere safe!" You cried, your panic causing you to throw common sense out the window.

He loosened his grip on the trigger slightly, and you must have noticed the way he was taken aback by your plea as he finally made eye contact with you. You looked so... desperate. Desperate for help.

"I just want to go somewhere safe... I just want to be safe... please..." You paused, your demeanor changing ever so slightly as if you were trying to pinpoint a weakness of his. As if you could see every single weak point he had as he waited to kill you.

"Please help me get somewhere safe...I'm not a threat to you... please I just want to live something of a normal fucking life!!" You finally spoke and Jack couldn't help but crack a slight smile.

You wanted his help now? You wanted his help. Had someone finally understood what he was trying to do? That he was just trying to help this planet and its people? You looked at him and you saw someone who could help you, someone who could save you. He had set out to help people like you (or so he claimed). Those struggling to survive, those without the means to protect themselves against the chaos this planet had descended into all those years ago. He preached that he was Pandora's savior, that he was going to restore balance, and you asked him to help you. He had never felt such power. But it was something else too, something deep inside of him when he looked at you. A broken person, someone who just really didn't want to die, and he wasn't entirely sure if he wanted to kill you. There was an odd tug in his chest as he contemplated pulling the trigger anyway, to disregard your begging and simply end your suffering. He had done it before. He had listened to people beg and cry for their lives, he had shown them the possibility of survival, only to kill them anyway. He could be different. Perhaps if he spared you, more people would understand, people would stop fighting against him and wouldn't stand in his way.

Jack dropped his finger from the trigger and lowered his gun, taking a step back and he watched as you took a deep, staggering breath. Choking out another sob as you slowly lower your hands, wrapping your arms around your abdomen and squeezing yourself tight. Jack dragged a hand over his face and sighed as he shoved his gun back in its holster. He felt like he could conquer the entire galaxy at this moment. He glanced back down at you and smirked as he knelt down in front of you and reached over, tucking his finger under your chin and tilting your head up towards him.

"I know a place where you will be perfectly safe, pumpkin."

Full fic here

https://archiveofourown.org/works/34327927/chapters/101408544?view_adult=true

[omg-foreverfilledwithweird-posts]

A Siren Song

Pairing: Robert Dubois/ Bloodsport x Reader

A/N: so I just finished watching the new Suicide Squad for the second time and I’m even more obsessed now than I was the first time I watched it. It’s a brilliant film with actually good humor, a non-sexualizing and actually empowering view on Harley Quinn (that leg scene?? y'all-), the rats?? Rat-catcher 2?? THE SHARK?? FLAG?? Who looked really good in this movie, he might be another contender for a story as well as Harley Quinn so lmk ;) but Bloodsport immediately piqued my interest because it’s Idris Elba and he’s gorgeous, I loved the complexities of his character and I want to write for him and no one else has done it yet?? so shoutout to @honey-im-emotional​​ for the support and push to do it! also love The Bodyguard movie, helped with the inspo <3 and i’m so sorry all of my stories are similar but I HAVE A TYPE enjoy and feedback is always appreciated loves and there will be SPOILERS so be warned, also if you want a Harley one next lmk ;) (it’s so long I’m so sorry lol)

Summary: You’re a highly targeted member of the royal family, the last in your line. Bloodsport is hired to be your bodyguard to both watch and assassinate the men after you. He believes it’s below his pay-grade, but reluctantly agrees, doing so to the best of his abilities. But the closeness brings more intimacy than you two expected, and sparks fly.

Warnings: foul language, sexual content, smut, choking, light bdsm, fluffy fluff, dirty dancing, dirty talk, violence and bad guys getting murdered, mentions of Harley x Reader (y’all sexy dance and kiss), reader likes women, dom! Bloodsport, age gap, alcohol consumption, jealousy, heavy kissing, slight angst, just a good time honestly

Word Count: 3,825

You dangle from the ceiling with your aerial silk, fitting your leg in the loop you’ve created, and dangling upside down. The rope wraps around your waist as you hang gracefully from your marble walls, flying. Your friend Harley Quinn taught you how to do this years ago, it now being your favorite form of exercise and relaxation when you need a moment to clear your head. 

As you lightly spin, twirling and dancing in the air with your chandelier reflecting light everywhere, a dazzling fairy floating in a sea of stars. You hear footsteps approach and move to hang upside down, facing towards the grand door. Robert Dubois, a.k.a Bloodsport, walks forward to stand directly in front of you. 

You have known him a few weeks or so now, him having to watch your every move and tracking down your family’s killers. He stands and meets your eyes as you dangle, hair falling below you.

“Hi,” you giggle, face flushed with heat. “I probably look ridiculous right now.”

He composes himself so he doesn’t crack a smile, but you see his lips twitch when he speaks, “No, Mrs. y/l/n.”

“I have a first name, you know,” you grin widely. “I’m younger than you, which hardly warrants such a professional title.”

“My apologies, y/n,” he fixes himself.

“It’s alright,” you ease, filling him with a sense of softness he hasn’t felt in a long time. You flip and land on your feet, letting go of your silks. 

You don’t notice as his eyes glaze over your body in your sports bra and shorts, something his cold, calculated stare should never succumb to, but he does anyway and he kicks himself for doing it. You’re his client and should therefore remain as such, no conflict of interest or thoughts other than to protect. He didn’t want this job, hell, he still doesn’t know why he said yes. Maybe it was the money. Or maybe it was upon seeing you that first time, in that star-studded gown the night of a charity gala you were attending, the way the diamond littered fabric hung over your figure, absolutely dazzled. The way you looked at him and smiled, like you were used to with all the other nobles and adoring fans. But he let himself believe it was different.

He can’t do that anymore, however, because he can’t allow for any complications. And falling for his boss is certainly a complication. 

You look at him and your eyes widen with realization, “Oh, I’m sorry. Let me cover up.”

You grab a tee shirt and toss it over your exercise clothes. He looks down as you do so and clears his throat. This brings a small smile to your face.  

“You called me in here,” he gestures to the necklace charm hanging around your neck that you can squeeze and send an instant distress signal whenever you need it. “What can I do for you, y/n?”

“Wanted you to spot me,” you tease, a smile overtaking your delicate features. You have a sort of stunning beauty about you that takes him by surprise every time he lays eyes on you. Which is often. You lay on your yoga mat and sit up straight with that same damned smile. 

“I’m here to do a job, y/n,” he says, his deep, honeyed voice coating the way he says your name like heat to sugar. “Not aid you in your workout routine.”

“What? Your assassin training didn’t include sit ups?” you smile, tongue in cheek.

“No, but if you need a way to kill a man with a book,” he presses a foot over both of yours as you begin to do sit ups. “Then I’m your man.”

“Yeah, you and John Wick,” you breathe out with a laugh. “And shouldn’t you be in here watching me already? Not by the door?”

“This room has no windows and no other door or entrance besides the one I was standing by. I thought you would want privacy,” he averts your gaze. “I’m sure it’s a hard thing to come by these days for a woman like yourself.”

You stop what you’re doing and look up at him, blinking, “Well, you’d be right,” you tuck your hair back. “So thank you.”

He meets your eyes, bordering on a smile, “You’re welcome.”

“Is that a smile I see?” you chuckle.

The smile shines, “It was a diversion. And you failed.”

You laugh loudly, “Will the next diversion be an actual laugh?”

“Wouldn’t be a proper diversion if you knew what it was.”

You tap his feet so he’ll get the hint and let you up. You rise to your feet and dust yourself up, “I appreciate your spotting.” You press a hand to his chest and hum. Warmth radiates from your palm and he inhales sharply. “For someone who wasn’t trained, you sure are a fast learner.”

He looks at your hand and back to your eyes, heat sprouting from where your hand touches. His hand flexes at his side as he looks around the room, to the door, seeing if it’s closed. 

“I-” he cocks an eyebrow then settles. “I think I should go.”

He watches you look at him with wounded eyes, brow lowered, you open your mouth then close it. 

You nod, moving away from him, “Right.”

You move to walk away when he stops you, mouth by your ear, voice dropping an octave when he whispers, “Just so you know-” you tilt your head up almost instinctively to hear him better. “-my assassin training did include reminding people who they are when they’ve forgotten their place.”

You look up at him fully now, “You work for me, remember?”

“I work for money. And you didn’t hire me. I was employed by Mrs. Waller to keep you alive,” he cocks his head slightly. 

“So it would be frowned upon by her when you’re unable to walk if you touch me like that again.”

You couldn’t believe he had just said that. Your eyes widen and your cheeks once again heat up, blushing. Your chest gets hot when he doesn’t break the stare like he’s calling your bluff, and fuck, did he do just that. You turn away from him.

You can hear the smile in his voice, “That’s what I thought.”

~~~

“Robert said that!?” Harley exclaims, eyes wide. Her jaw is dropped as she does her mascara aggressively in the mirror. “He’s usually so...”

You tug down your tiny halter top over your head, your bright, flattering makeup complementing the colorful swirling pattern, “An empty void with no emotion?”

She nods emphatically, agreeing, “Exactly! I had no idea he had it in him?” she raises her brow and smooths down her leather black and red dress, “Or that he wanted to put it in you-”

You slap her arm, chastising, “You don’t know that. It might have been a threat to actually paralyze me in a very not sexual way.”

“I say both are arousing,” she shrugs, platinum curls bouncing.

You roll your eyes with a small smile aimed at the floor, “Anyway-” you slip a belt through your tight jeans, hitting at your waist when you cinch it in. “We should get going if we want to get to the club on time.”

She pauses. “Y/n. Are you sure we should be doing this?”

You do a double take, “You’re telling me that we shouldn’t sneak out and have a good time?”

“I know the irony is apparent,” she looks at you with a knowing stare. “But not if it means you’re in danger. Which you are.”

“I know,” you frown. “But I’ve been locked in this house for months, I miss going out and having a life. I’m tired of being coddled.”

“I know, sweetheart,” she sighs, looking past herself in the mirror to flash me a sympathetic smile. She thinks for a beat and finally spins around, “Alright, screw it, doll, let’s go paint the town.”

You buzz with excitement, grinning, “Yay! Thank you, thank you! I wonder who will be djaying...” you trail off. 

Harley’s face falls and her mouth goes in a solid, straight line, looking past your shoulder, “I don’t think anyone will be.”

You laugh, completely oblivious, “Of course there will be. There has to be music. Dancing in silence would be pretty fucking awkward.”

“This moment is pretty fucking awkward.”

“What do you mean?”

A deep, irritated voice sounds off behind you, “Because you’re not going.”

You jump out of your skin, “Shit, Robert! You scared the hell out of me!”

“You’re not going to that club,” he folds his arms over his chest. You look over him and his casual, night wear: a loose tee and low hanging joggers. You almost wipe your mouth from salivating. Your outfit elicits the same reaction.

You pinch your eyebrows together, “You can’t tell me what to do.”

“Yes, I can. I’m tasked with protecting you.”

“Yeah. And nowhere on your job description does it say ‘become my parent’. There’s not an opening now just because I don’t have one. I am a grown ass woman and I have been a prisoner in my own home. The same home where...” you pause, a lump in your throat at the reminder of your family’s passing. You shake it off, “I’m just tired. I want a piece of my life back. You can either stay here or come. Either way I’m going.”

He gives you a quick once over and contemplates his options before dropping his arms to his sides and letting out a long exhale.

“Fine.”

You somewhat relax at his defeated tone, “Fine, what?”

He relents, “You can go, but I’m coming with you. But if anything happens to you, I’m not to be blamed. I will leave your ass in that club.”

You grin and jump up to give him a tight hug around the neck. He stiffens before slowly rubbing your back. You sink into his embrace, feeling like you were floating in water, now above the surface as he brings you back to oxygen. Harley smiles at the exchange and she winks theatrically. 

He glares. 

It’s not long before you three arrive at the club, music blaring and colorful lights flashing over the crowded floors. From his stare and intimidating aura, the club staff thought he was a bouncer and let you all in immediately. But before he was roped into working, the three of you bee-lined to the bar. 

“The prettiest and strongest drink ya got, sugar,” Harley smiles at the pretty bartender.

“And what if that’s me?” she responds, ebony hair falling onto one shoulder.

“Then I’ll have to drink you later,” Harley gives her a flirty once over and you roll your eyes.

The bartender grins and gestures towards me for my order, I answer quickly, “Scotch on the rocks.”

Robert looks at you, poorly covering his shocked expression. “Really?”

“Yeah, why?” you look up at him.

“Didn’t peg you for a straight liquor type, Ms. y/l/n,” he finally lets his hidden laugh show through, butterflies erupting in your chest. The diversion definitely worked, whatever you were thinking about before this has immediately left you.

“Then this is going to be the first surprise of many tonight, Mr. Dubois,” you return the smug look as he orders the same thing. You both share a look.

The bartender slides you all your drinks, each of you taking a long swig for liquid courage for the night. Harley’s favorite Doja Cat song comes on and she gasps, clapping excitedly when she grabs you by the wrist, pulling you on the dance floor, “Come dance with me.”

You mouth a small ‘sorry’ to Bloodsport who you left at the bar, he shakes his head with a smile over the rim of his glass, watching you guys’ drinks. 

She dances wildly, jumping up and down, spinning to let her hair fall in many beautiful angles. She’s a powerful force and your greatest friend. She puts her arms around your neck and the two of you move in time with the music.

“So...” she motions to Bloodsport who’s being forced into a conversation with a woman at the bar. The woman puts her hand on his and he visibly shrinks back and whispers something to her that causes the most horrid look from the woman and for her to walk quickly away. You smile at the relief that interaction has brought you.

“So what?” you spin her around and pull her back.

“Quit with the good dancing, or I’m gonna fuck you myself,” she teases with a lightheaded giggle.

You smile, “We’ve tried that already, remember?”

“Too much history, I know, I know. Doesn’t mean it wouldn’t be nice...” she whispers into your neck, kissing the soft spot under your chin. Your skin heats up under her touch as she drags her hands down your sides, pulling you close to her so that you’re flush against her chest.

You give into her and kiss her slowly, her soft lips melt into your own when her hands tug in your hair. Harley and you have always had a complicated friendship, with enough sexual attraction to fuel a nuclear bomb, but not enough romantic. You love each other but not in the way you both need. You were in love with Robert and she is continuing to explore her sexuality because she likes women and so do you. So as she trails her hot mouth down your neck in the middle of dozens of bustling bodies and you lock eyes with an angry Bloodsport, you knew exactly what she was doing.

You whisper, out of breath, “Are you trying the jealousy trick?”

“It worked in college, didn’t it?” she kisses your cheek, smiling gently against your skin. “And it’s working now.”

“I think you’re just obsessed with kissing me,” you kiss her back.

“It was a win-win situation, doll,” she grins devilishly and you can’t help but agree. “So when you’re done with him, come see me. But right now, I have a sexy bartender lady to drink up.” You grip her hand and let her make her way to her next conquest.

Robert had seen the tail-end of your kiss, his deft fingers clenched around his whiskey glass. He knows he shouldn’t let this sort of thing affect him, something as juvenile and simple as jealousy. But he couldn’t stop that feeling of being stuck, unable to think about anything except the fact that it wasn’t him with his hands on you like that, lips marking you as much as he pleases. Sadness washed over him in a tidal wave and he set his glass down, about to get up to leave when he spotted a man eyeing you from the door. He looked familiar and it wasn’t just attraction he sensed in his eyes but something far more sinister.

A few more men followed suit and began making their way to you in the middle of the dance floor. He had no time to consider the facts, just to get you out of there as soon as possible. 

You feel a rough hand tug your arm and turn to face who you think to be Dubois, you smile, “Enjoy the show?”

“Very much,” an unknown voice answers, and you look up, eyes wide. “Now why don’t you come with me for a little talk, beautiful.”

“Get the fuck off of me,” you yank your arm back, slamming your heel down into the perpetrator’s foot. More men surround you on all sides, making it impossible for you to escape or use your subpar martial arts skills. Aerial yoga was a very different ballpark than kicking ass. And you were just a beginner.

You poorly punch a man in the face, only making them all angrier when you’re grabbed from all sides, being dragged towards the exit kicking and screaming. You didn’t want to be that helpless damsel in distress, but as all of these men, men you recognized from your family’s death, were surrounding you, you couldn’t breathe. Their hands felt familiar, grabbing your arms like they’d done that night before you hid in the secret door in the dining room. You had watched these faceless men through a hole in that door, stifling your cries when bullets sprayed the room your family was having dinner in. So while they were coming after you and pulling you outside, it’s all you felt. That same feeling when he wasn’t near.

Drowning.

There’s a hand that pulls you back and you watch, dazed, as Bloodsport puts every man who touched you on the ground. It’s filled with swift yet aggressive and barbaric movements, controlled, expert chaos and it happens within moments. His chest is heaving when he looks down at you and scoops you up in his arms. You’d object in any other circumstances, but this time, head against his chest and tucked in his arms, you were okay.

His voice rumbles against your side, “We’re going home.”

~~~

Harley’s tears hit your shoulder as you sympathetically pat her back.

“I��m so sorry, y/n. I shouldn’t have left,” she sniffles loudly. “I should’ve been there.”

You laugh softly, fitting your head into her shoulder, “It’s okay, Harls. It’s not your fault, there was no harm done.”

“There could have been,” she sighs. “I’m not letting you convince me to go out next time, you’re staying here forever.”

You roll your eyes with a smile, “Alright.”

She gets up and sniffs, wiping at her nose that’s now flushed from crying, “Good because I’m serious.”

“I know,” you laugh again, hugging yourself in a hoodie much too large for you, (because you stole it from Rick Flagg) swallowing you whole. 

Your eyes wander down the hall to where Robert is no doubt pacing around in your bedroom, the only room not laden with cameras (ironically for privacy). You kick at the floor in your fuzzy socks and think of an excuse to go check on him, even though you’re probably the last person he wants to see right now. You, frankly, don’t care.

“I’m gonna go-” 

“Check on Robert?” she finishes. “I know, honey. I was a psychiatrist, I’m not stupid.”

You crack a smile and grip her arm affectionately as you walk past her towards the bedroom. You don’t even take the risk of knocking for fear he’ll lock it and try your luck with just simply opening it. You see him, shirtless with a towel over his shoulder, a low hanging towel wrapped around his waist, while nursing his knuckles. He looks you over once you enter the room, trained eyes on you and the intimidation is definitely working already when he takes the damp towel on his shoulder and dabs the cuts on his skin.

He remains silent and you move to sit down on your bed, the awkward squeak filling the already high-tension atmosphere, thick enough to make your ears pop like you’re in an airplane too far up in the sky.

“I’m sorry,” you say quietly, drawing his eye. 

He hums and steps into your bathroom, washing off his hands. 

You frown at his lack of response, “Are you really going to pout this whole time? Because honestly, it’s beneath you, Robert.” You lean forward, watching as he walks out of the bathroom, still half naked, still silent. 

The silence is beginning to slowly kill you, especially when he looks this good, water droplets running down his chiseled torso from a hot shower. You didn’t let your mind wander because if the reaction your body is giving from the image before you was any indication, you want him. He walks in the room once again, mouth in an amused yet firm line. 

In actuality, he was ashamed of himself. Not so much of you. He would’ve left as that despair overcame him back in that bar. He would’ve left you there and abandoned his mission, leaving you to be hurt. If it hadn't been for those men, you could’ve been killed and it would be his fault. He alerted Waller of the attack, making up a lie about the two of you going for a walk at night and getting ambushed there rather than at a club. There’s a hit on each of those men being taken out as we speak as well as a search for their boss. Even though that still got him chewed out. He couldn’t imagine what she’d do to him if she found out the truth.

Robert walks slowly towards you, leaning against the bed frame, gesturing for you to continue. You watch him, distracted, as he wraps a bandage around his knuckles.

“I shouldn’t have kissed her to get a rise out of you, that was hurtful,” you exhale your words, quiet enough he wouldn’t be able to hear you if you weren’t within a breath of one another. You hang your head, “And it was stupid to go out in the first place when I am in this much danger. I could’ve been killed, and you could have been hurt. I’m sorry.”

He represses a laugh at the idea of him getting hurt, when the two of you both know that would never happen. But as the silence from him grows thicker, the more you start to ramble.

“Okay, this silent treatment isn’t going to work for much longer. I don’t know what game you’re playing, but you need to stop.”

He gives you a look that says ‘make me’. But you both know you couldn’t if you tried, and vice versa. He thinks of you as a siren, one of those alluring creatures in old sailor tales that lured unsuspecting men to their painful deaths. As if he has no control of the way he feels about you. Which in a way he does, but he knows better. He knows better than to fall under your enchanting song, but he can’t help but be pulled beneath the surface of the water. 

Robert tenses when you move forward and the hoodie falls off one of your shoulders, revealing more of your chest, the smooth skin that lays there. 

His chest tightens when you look up at him and sigh.

“But thank you for saving me,” you say, both because you think that’s what he wants to hear but also because you mean it, you wouldn’t be here at all if he didn’t come with you.

He licks his lips and nods his head in simple recognition. He appreciated the apology, truly he did, but a part of him enjoyed the way you continued to ramble on, so he remained silent. This was an old interrogation tactic he learned when he served, keeping quiet always got people talking. He looks down at you and leans to meet your face, hands on either side of you. 

“I don’t know what else you wish for me to say,” you admit quietly, fiddling with your hands.

He didn’t know either but whatever you would say, he would listen.

“So I take it you’re not mad anymore?” you infer from his relaxed posture, heart beating out of your chest, fast enough that it catapults to your throat. 

He tilts his head down so he’s an inch before your mouth, breath fanning over your face. when he tugs you up to your feet, hands gripping the sides of your waist when he pulls you close. Your heartbeats began to sync up, chest to chest.

“I’m fucking furious, sweetheart.”

You meet his eyes, looking up in that seductive stare of yours you never knew you were capable of until him, and close the distance, kissing him lightly. His arms falter by your side and it’s the first time you’ve seen him hesitate, losing his cool. It’s the most gentle thing he’s ever experienced, everything in his life being forced, hostile, and malicious, while your soft lips against his are anything but. You kiss him like he’s not the monster he thinks himself to be. 

“Then let me make it up to you.”

“Fuck,” he grips your sides harder, palm moving to push you closer with his hand flat against the small of your back. “We shouldn’t.”

You search his face for uncertainty, but all you sense is a profound sense of clarity, in the both of you. “I know.”

“Will you regret this?”

You shake your head, hand against his cheek, “No.”

His dark eyes fall to your lips, pupils filling his dark brown irises, lust blown, “You’re so good, baby. You’re too good for me.”

Before you can tease him about the new nickname and object to that, his lips have crashed against your own. His hand slides up to cup the side of your face, drinking you in with his intoxicating kiss. You hum, content, against his feverish mouth and he opens it, vulnerable and on display. You feel his guard still up, tense and calculated, so you rest your hand against his chest. You press a kiss to his eyelid, his cheek, his nose, his chin, his jaw, his neck. He softens beneath you, groaning aloud as his hands tighten. 

“You don’t need to be afraid with me,” you whisper to him, tender fingers trailing down his shirtless chest, hot skin against hot skin. It’s enough to make you sweat.

He exhales and captures your bottom lip with his own, holding your face in both of his hands. The kiss grows heated and rushed, like you’re running out of time, as if at any moment those men would come back and find you and take you away from him again. His tongue expertly works with your own, licking the pout of your bottom lip, and coaxing you open. He slides his hand down between your legs, dipping his finger to find the slick in the middle of your thighs. You moan into his mouth, his other hand at the back of your neck when he buries his face in your shoulder. He kisses you there, the crook where your neck meets your collarbone, that damned sensitive spot. You succumb to his touch. His beard tickles your skin and you gasp when he sucks hard, a bruise forming.

You breathe a laugh, “Everyone will see if you leave a mark,” you tug on his hair when you thread it through his coarse curls. 

He falls under your spell and there’s something so ironically beautiful about this trained assassin with a heart of gold and the scars to show for it, being so open with you.

His hands, his entire life, have been forced to be instruments of death and violence. But as they slide down your figure, holding your face, and pulling you into him, they’re his greatest gift. He’s surprisingly tender with you. 

But then he has enough and pushes you down on the bed, arms trapping you on both sides.

He responds bluntly, “I don’t care.”

You part your legs for him and he releases a shaky breath. He slowly unzips your sweatshirt and it falls off you just as you do the same and tug his towel down. Both of you are bare before the other as you take a moment to drink each other in. You were just as, if not more, beautiful than he imagined you to be. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he says quietly as his hand drapes down the line of your figure. He touches you how someone would handle a glass vase filled with flowers. 

You take his face in both of your hands and kiss him, “So are you.” 

“I don’t think you know what you do to me, baby.” His hand finds your breast and squeezes while he kisses your neck.

You moan when he uses his other hand to grip your neck, thumb against your pulse point, “If it’s anything like how I feel right now, then yes, I do.”

He lifts his head up to watch your face as he chokes you, softly so he doesn’t hurt you but hard enough to play with your breath. His thumb opens your mouth and your legs tremble. 

“So I take it you’re into choking, my love?” You nod excitedly, unable to speak, and his grip tightens. 

You let out a squeak and he releases, face etched with worry, kissing your neck where he touched you. “Did I hurt you? I’m so sorry.” 

You shake your head and smile comfortingly, “No, baby, I’m okay. I’ll tap out if it’s too rough, I promise,” you tease.

His grumbling voice deepens, “Good... because, darling, right now all I want to do is bury my face in between those gorgeous thighs of yours.”

You inhale sharply when he opens your legs once again, looking up at you and you nod in consent.

“I need words, beautiful,” he smirks with his mouth just above your center. 

“Yes, please,” you breathe out and he responds with a swift lick to your pussy. He looks up at you and when he catches your eye, it’s as if the sensation grows stronger and your head hits your pillow.

“I’ve barely even touched you,” he mumbles into you and you feel his smug smile in your thigh. His fingers dip into you as he flattens his tongue and crooks them towards himself, you grip your sheets.

“Don’t... flatter yourself,” you sigh out. “I-it’s just been awhile.”

He removes his mouth and fingers from you, “So anyone can make you feel like this?”

You enjoy the feeling you get when he looks at you like that, his eyes dark and dominant, so you play along and nod. “Yes, in fact, I’ve had better.”

He licks his lips and gets up from the bed. He opens his drawer and you sit up to look what he grabs: a belt. Your heart beats excitedly in your chest even though you know you shouldn’t be. He gets back on the bed and climbs over you.

Robert looks at you, “Hands.”

You extend them to him wordlessly, watching as he ties your wrists together and puts them over the bedpost so you’re trapped there, unable to move.

“Now,” he holds himself above you, pressing a kiss to your lips. “You’re to stay tied up until I say so, anything like that again and they get tighter. Nod if you understand me.”

You nod emphatically. You had never seen this side of Robert before, so in control and not afraid to go too far, it was so unbelievably sexy. 

The best part was he didn’t tie it tight enough, afraid of hurting you, so you could easily slip out your hands at any moment.

He kisses, painfully slow, down your chest and wraps his lips around your nipple. He swirls his tongue around the erect bud and you gasp, desperate to touch him. He looks up at you from you chest as he switches to the other, massaging the unattended one as he sucks, the pleasurable feeling overwhelming you. So much so you have to clench your thighs together, longing for some sort of relief for the tension building in your abdomen.

“Baby, please,” you whine, squirming beneath him.

He shuts you up with a bruising kiss while his hand slips down to enter you, two fingers in already. He pumps them in and out of you before sliding back down the expanses of your body and letting his mouth latch onto your clit. He sucks hard and you stifle a loud moan that would surely alert everyone in the home of your arousal. He holds you down against the bed with a palm flat against your stomach as you begin to lift your pelvis. His tongue enters you while his fingers take over, stimulating you with gentle rubs and flicks. But just before you feel that euphoric release, his actions cease and you’re left hot and flustered. 

“Robert,” you look at him with a deep frown.

He grins, “Y/n...”

You blow hair out of your eyes, “I hate you.”

“No you don’t.” He puts his lips near your ear, “Are you ready?” You nod as he pushes himself inside you and you bite back a moan into his shoulder. 

You finally have enough, slip your hands out, and he pinches his brow, unable to hide his shock before you bring him down to press your lips against his. He melts into you, arms wrapped around you while he holds you close, filling you out in all the right places. He quickens his pace and you whine into his mouth, nails digging into his skin. You wrap your legs around his torso and he hits you so nicely. He was right, it’s the best you’ve ever had. He rises and looks at you, lips swollen and red from kissing, eyes clear and pupils large, and face flushed with heat. Your hair is in messy tendrils at all angles and you’ve never been more attractive.

“You’re doing so good,” he praises in your ear, placing kisses across your jaw. “Taking my cock so well.”

You whimper and his movements stiffen as he approaches release and so do you, walls tightening around him. He reaches down and rubs your clit with his expert fingers. You finish together, mouths open and hands all over each other’s bodies. It overcomes you in a tingling, perfect sensation, it continues on, leaving you aching and wanting more.

He rubs his knuckles over your cheek, softly and adoringly he looks at you. You tuck yourself into his arms under the blankets. Everything you both have wanted for a long time, laying right in front of you.

“Still want to make me not walk?” you tease, looking up at him.

He kisses your eyelids and you giggle, “Fuck yes.”

Part 2?

[malewifeklaviergavin]

Can I get an order of uhhhh 13 from the writing prompt, told by apollo to Klavier to flip the norm 🥰

(13: I saw you looking at it last time we were in the store together, so I got it for you.)

To Apollo's initial shock, Klavier Gavin was surprisingly frugal. Yeah, he wore expensive clothes and used expensive hair products and drove an expensive motorcycle (Apollo would and never will refer to it as a 'hog' thank you very much), but when the chips were down Klavier loved a good bargain. He had a jar of loose change on the kitchen counter, a sewing kit to fix up wear and tear in his clothing, and if anyone ever really pressed him, Klavier would admit that even his jewelry was just silver plated cheap stuff. "Ach, I couldn't afford anything fancy when I first became famous. By the time I could, I was attached to this necklace." He explained to Apollo once over french toast. "The expensive stuff, that's just for my image, not for me."

Image, Apollo was learning, was apparently everything and nothing at the same time.

It initially made no sense to Apollo; if you're so rich, why not spend it? What was the point? Royalty checks came in regularly, as did paychecks from the office. It's not like he couldn't afford to splurge. And still, Klavier would rather get up early and make his own coffee instead of buying one. He'd rather fix his own flat tire than hire a mechanic. And he never, ever splurged on himself. Splurge on others, sure. But never himself.

Case in point, their weekly low-key date to a shitty little Italian place they both love-hated (it had great garlic bread and a 2.4 star review on Yelp). The wine was... Wine (neither good nor bad), the pasta for once wasn't under cooked, and the conversation had flowed easily between work and life. It had taken a year of friendship plus a few months of dating to find their rhythm but now that they had, things were good.

"Stuffed yet, Forehead?" Klavier asked idly, flipping through the dessert menu. "Ach, I couldn't eat another bite."

Wait a second. There.

Klavier's left ring finger twitched.

'No, I absolutely cannot use my ability on my boyfriend. It's rude. Right?' Apollo wondered, eyeing Klavier curiously. "You sure? You look like you see something good."

Klavier blinked, momentarily thrown, before plastering on a flirty smile. "Yes, mein Schatz is looking very good tonight." He purred, placing the menu down and reaching across the table to take Apollo's hand. "It's nothing. Just a passing fancy and a little more expensive than I care to inflict on your wallet. But I'm full, and since you insist on paying I will go get the car and bring it around. Don't take too long, ja?"

With a flick of his hair, Klavier was gone and Apollo found himself at the table with a mystery.

Glancing around almost guiltily, he snatched up the desert menu and almost immediately it was obvious what Klavier had been looking at.

"Thinking of checking out our new German cheesecake?" The waitress seemed to materialize out of no where and scared the shit out of Apollo. "Not very Italian, I know, but the owner just took a trip to Germany and fell in love. So we have it as a temporary menu item." She winked and flourished her pencil and pad. "It actually disappears tonight. Last chance, bud. What's it gonna be?"

---

"Was took you so long, Liebling?" Klavier asked once Apollo slid into then passenger seat.

Grinning, Apollo futz around with his satchel and pulled out two styrofoam boxes. "Now I know you said you were full, but you looked like you really wanted the cheesecake. And I know you'd never spend your own money on dessert when you have your stupid low fat fro-yo vanilla no fun shit at home. So I ordered us both a slice to go. If you really don't want it, though, I'll just eat both and you'll have to deal with my stomachache and that'll show you for trying to be healthy." Apollo explained in a whirlwind, popping open one container to reveal what looked like a shockingly good (for the restaurants rating) dessert.

Klavier's face was the picture of surprise as he stared at the cake. "Forehead... Apollo..." He said softly, reaching over and closing the container gently. "Ach, I don't have words. You're so good to me, Hase. Thank you."

Grinning even wider, Apollo stuffed the containers away and pressed a noisy kiss to his boyfriend's cheek. Oh yeah, he nailed it. The rare time he managed to turn the tables on his romantic boyfriend, it was always worth it for that fluttering, shy smile on Klavier's face. If it meant spending a few extra dollars that Klavier wouldn't to keep his boyfriend smiling like that, then it was always worth the price tag.

[sunaswife]

The baby series ✨🍼

Baby Talk pt.3

🔪: An anon requested these two but I lost the ask 😭 so I’m sorry

Ft. Miya Osamu, Suna Rintarou

Part 1 ft. Ushi and suga, Part 2 ft. Oikawa and atsumu

⚠️: slight nsfw with Suna, fluff and yeh thats it

Osamu

“Sorry for the wait, here’s your spicy tuna special.” You smiled and placed the onigiri in front of the mother. “And here is your kids meal, bud.” You said and the toddler eagarly waited for his food. “What do we say?” The mom asked. “Thank you!” The kid smiled and you smiled back. “You’re welcome, let me know if you need anything.” You said and the mother nodded. You turned away and continued going to the back. “Do you need any help?” You asked your husband, “No I’m fine.” He assured and his hand swiveled around inside the pot. He was washing rice. “The little kid is so adorable, and he said thank you and my heart melted.” You fangirled and Osamu chuckled.

“You must really have baby fever.” He pointed out as he drained that water to wash the rice again, “Not even.” You replied and looked at the front counter to see if anyone else has arrived. “Babycakes, everytime a family comes in with kids youre always gushing over them.” He said, “No I’ve always been like that.” You defended and he stopped washing the rice. “In highschool you thought kids were disgusting little creatures.” He squinted and you crossed your arms over your chest and leaned against the table.

“Okay..maybe I do have baby fever.” You muttered, “Told ya, there’s nothing wrong with that. I love talking with the kids too.” He smiled and continued washing the rice. “Speaking of your baby fever, well our baby fever I was curious as to when you’d want to start trying.” He spoke up and turned his head to look at you.

“Well I mean we have the shop, and the mortgage for our house, bills here and there. I deal with all the financial aspects within the shop and our home. We can afford a child or two at the moment because the shops running well and our house is a perfect size—“

“So what you’re saying is that we should hire someone to help you with that.” He interrupted and your cheeks tinted. You tended to ramble when you were nervous or excited. And you’re both. This is something new for the both of you. He always found your ramblings cute. “Yeah basically.” You chuckled, “I’ll start looking into it tonight. And when they’re hired we can start working on our family.” He said. You didn’t notice that he had already put the rice to cook and he washed his hands.

“I love you.” You said and hugged your husband, “I love you more.” He sighed and he returned your hug, he placed a small kiss on the top on your head. You were wearing the shops signature attire and the dad hat looked so adorable on you. The bell chimed and you pulled away, out of nowhere Osamu smacked the front flap on the hat causing it to hit your nose and block your vision. “Really Osamu?” You huffed and took off the hat to fix it back on your head. You punched his arm and he snickered. The bell rang once more and you hurriedly made your way to the front counter slightly tripping on the way with Osamu howling in laughter back in the kitchen.

You met the family with two small children and your smiled widened not only because it was your job but because in a few weeks time you’ll be planning a family of your own.

Suna

For a while your husband, Rin has been wanting a baby. He’s just a bit shy to tell you. You’ve both talked about it before marriage was brought up but never actually planned when you’d want to have a baby. As Suna layed in bed with you in his arms he couldn’t help but think about what just happened less than an hour ago.

You were having amazing sex like always and this time Rin managed to fuck you stupid. Your legs twitched so beautifully, you were drooling, your eyes were crossed and everything. As he was reaching near his high he wanted to cum with you so he began to rub his thumb on your clit, earning louder moans from you.

“You like when I fuck you stupid? huh baby? Who’s my little slut? You are, isn’t that right?” He asked and you couldn’t help but nod weakly. Too fucked out to process what he was saying. He smirked and rested his hand on your lower stomach feeling himself inside. “Want me to fill you with my cum? Want me to make you a mommy my pretty little slut?” He asked and you nodded with tear stained eyes. “Nu uh, beg.” He demanded. “P-please cum in me daddy, I want you to make me a mommy. Make me a mommy please.” Your nails scratched his back and he groaned. His pace quickened and you both came undone.

Even though that was foreplay, it really struck a cord with him. Are you willing to try for a baby now? Or still wait a bit longer? There was only one way to find out, right? He couldn’t wait any longer to just assume your answer.

“Princess.” He called and your eyes opened, you were getting sleeping since you were exhausted thanks to Rin. But since he called your name, you’re wide awake. “Yeah what’s up.” You said and turned to face him. You moved some of the hair away from his forehead and you gave him a small smile.

“Awhile back before we got married, we talked about kids. I know you want kids, and you know I want kids. So I was wondering if you’re interested in trying already?” He asked and your eyes widened, “Really? You really wanna try already?” You asked hopefulness in your eyes. Rin’s heart swelled and he nodded. “I do babe. I think we’re ready. We have our lives sorted out.” He said. “Okay then let’s plan it.” You said and he nodded. He leaned forward and you both shared a passionate and sweet kiss, “So when do you ovulate? So I can take the day off.”

“Oh shit so you really wanna get me pregnant.”

“Yep, gonna fuck like bunnies all day.”

“I’m so done with you.”

🏷: @softiebadbitch @tobiosbunny @aoi-turtle @yumeneji @bakuhoetoedoroki @tsukkisfatsimp @toworuu

[lazarettta]

The Babysitter

Characters ( Ally Mayfair-Richards x Reader )

Rating (T) Word Count ( 2.9k) Warnings ( None, bad flirting, writing while intoxicated)

“For dinner! I'd love to come home with you for dinner.”

“Well what else would you be coming for?”

“Dessert.”

It was another late night studying on the living room floor of the Mayfair-Richards household. It wasn't uncommon for you to spend a majority of your nights here during the week and sometimes the weekend if you were needed and you usually weren't. Not that you would've minded anyway, your weekends weren't busy—mostly spent either dead asleep or trying to get out of plans you didn't want to be a part of anyway to get more sleep.

But it wasn't everyday that you were able to work for a Senator either, so even if you were busy, you weren't going to tell Ally Mayfair-Richards that. Not that she was a mean boss or anything, she was the Senator for crying out loud. And...okay yes, maybe you idolized the woman a little though it may be because you're studying law but honestly who wouldn't idolize this woman? She went through so much shit getting to this point in her life and career.

And she was hot. She was really hot but you kept it in your pants, but your eyeballs? Different story. You were just grateful that she chose you to watch her son when she was away, especially after you knocked over your entire cup of tea in her living room on the very carpet you were sitting on, and you were just a hot mess.

You thought you blew the whole thing, but the moment she produced the NDA to you a few days later when she called you back for a 'second interview' which included Ozzy this time, you'd been ecstatic and nearly knocked over another fucking cup but Ally was faster than you that time.

The giant TV was playing in front of you across the room but it was just the news channel but the volume was pretty low because Oz was asleep upstairs and you weren't really watching it anyway, you had your airpods in listening to Beyoncé and trying to create a decent scenario for one of the ten theories your professor assigned. It was due the next day so you thought picking the easiest one would work in your favor but it was turning out to be your worst nightmare—and you'd regretted choosing sleep over this, kind of.

You'd been so engrossed in your work, and music, you didn't hear the front door open and shut somewhere behind you or hear Ally quietly talking on the phone, her high heels click clacking on her polished wood floors as she came into the living room. Ally paused slightly at the sight of you and her coffee table, your books and yellow pads scattered everywhere, your head bopping slightly to whatever you were listening to as you scribbled away.

Ally smiled softly, and continued on her way upstairs to check on Ozzy knowing that she was going to find him safe, clean and fast asleep with a full belly. You'd been his nanny for four months now and you were such a blessing for Ally, she'd been reluctant to hire and trust another person with her baby boy but her career was too demanding and Ozzy was only ten. He could stay home alone for a few hours maybe, but not days or even a week or two.

After everything, Ally did have cameras around her home on the outside and she had one directly over the stairs because it overlooked the foyer and parts of the living room from an angle. She didn't want too many camera's inside of her home in case they were hacked but she wanted something at least.

Ozzy's room was dark except for his nightlight by the door and Ally quietly made her way inside, carefully sitting on the edge of the bed and pushing his curls from his face. She was ever thankful that he finally stopped having those horrible nightmares, it meant that she wasn't wasting her money on therapy sessions.

When Ally came back downstairs, you were predictably in the exact same spot you were in and Ally finally did away with her coat, placing it over the spine of the sofa and she stepped out of her heels before coming around and plopping herself down, careful not to knock over your stack of books.

The sudden movement startled you out of your skin and you quickly pulled out your airpods and looked at your boss, “Hey! Sorry, how long have you been home?”

Ally smiled down at you tiredly, practically sinking into the sofa and you could feel her exhaustion rolling off of her in waves, and you couldn't help but sympathize because damn, and you thought you were tired.

“I just got in, I'm sorry I didn't call earlier, things got busier than I expected and then everything went into chaos.”

You smirked when she threw her hands up half heartedly with a roll of her eyes, “Would a glass of wine help?”

“No, but it would definitely be a start if you join me for a glass?” she raised an eyebrow, and as much as you wanted to say yes you've already procrastinated enough and you really didn't need alcohol in your system around her lest you say something you absolutely shouldn't.

“I would but I have to finish this and it's getting late. Do you mind waiting up until my Uber gets here?”

“It's really late, you should just stay the night, (Y/n).” Ally sat up then, waving away your comment, though now she was closer and hovering over you a bit, “I'll take you home tomorrow after breakfast, that sound fair?”

It wouldn't be the first overnight stay but it would definitely be the first time that she'd be home too and you just couldn't say no to that even though you probably should have insisted more that you go home, but you accepted her offer without further debate. You'd gone back to your assignment, minus the airpods this time, and Ally got up to go to the kitchen and you could hear her fixing herself a glass of wine.

Ally set a bottle of water next to you on a coaster before settling back in her spot and finding something to watch on TV, and of course you noticed that she was a hell of a lot closer than she was before.

Your pen had paused on the yellow paper and your eyes glanced over the same sentence three times before your mind processed that you could practically feel the heat from her legs next to your arm through her slacks, and if you leaned just an inch you'd be touching her. You fought the urge to look back over your shoulder, but instead you looked up from beneath your lashes and saw that she was browsing the movie channels at a snail's pace.

Behind you, Ally was sipping her wine in one hand and flipping channels with the remote in the other but her eyes were nowhere on the TV screen. But she noticed the moment your pen stopped moving and your shoulders tensed more than usual, she'd been watching you closely and curiously.

“You okay, honey?”

You turned around to answer her with what you hoped was a calm smile and wished that you hadn't, really. Ally was going to kill you sitting the way she was sitting, her energy screaming big dick and the top three buttons of her shirt were undone and her hair was a little messy. Either she was going to give you a heart attack or your libido would.

“Sweetheart?”

You blinked, coming back to reality so fast you would’ve gotten whiplash, “Uh, yeah...maybe I guess I’m just tired too.” Yeah right.

You chuckled nervously, embarrassed really, and licked your lips again and Ally tracked the movement with rapt attention not that you would've caught it because you were busy being mortified being caught staring like a creep.

“Are you sure? You look flushed, drink some water,” you smiled at Ally, ever the mom.

“I’m not—” not what? Thirsty? Yeah you were but not for some water.

“You’re not what?” Ally pressed, still holding you hostage with her eyes alone.

“Not thirsty for water.”

Ally raised an eyebrow, the corner of her lips twitching and you hate that you noticed, “Oh? Then what would you like to drink if it’s not wine or water?”

Good question. One you didn’t have a good answer to. Not trusting yourself to formulate words into an appropriate sentence, you just nodded and turned back around and grabbed the water she brought you. You were determined to ignore until you were finished with your work—for the sake of your sanity and dignity.

Fuck.

Still watching you, Ally laughed quietly into her wine glass and finally settled on a movie, keeping the volume low as she got comfortable. Deciding to let you off the hook for not answering her question. (This time.)

~~

A few days later...

It was another late night for you but you weren't working for Ally tonight, so you went to the gym instead after studying. You were still wearing your tights and sports bra when you left, only throwing on a jacket because the night air and sweat weren't a great mix.

You didn't have anything at home to eat that wasn't expired or so frozen it came from the ice age...it all went in the trash so all you had left in your fridge was a case of water and cheese sticks. It wasn't surprising though, you spent a majority of your free time at Ally's home and you just ate lunch and dinner there usually. So you went straight to the grocery store after your workout with your trainer.

“Hey (Y/n)!” you looked up and internally groaned, rolled your eyes and threw a whole bitch fit.

You offered Sean a tight near sarcastic smile, “Sean. What is up.”

“Nothin',” he said, leaning against the counter he was standing behind with a cheesy smile, his eyes leering—and it made your skin crawl, “Just working...you?”

“Uh,” you were already over this conversation, “Same, anyway—”

“You still work for that crazy killer lesbian?”

You stopped, pivoting back around slowly to see if he was joking or not, of course it was hard to tell because he was looking at your ass, but the minute he turned around his eyes laser beamed to your chest. Specifically your pebbled nipples and the bars pierced in them. You moved the labels of your jacket to cover them fucking pig.

“Uh, my eyes are up here and two, that 'crazy killer lesbian' is your Senator.”

He shrugged, “I didn't vote for her.”

“I'm...okay, it was nice talking to you but I have things to do.”

“Well, wait,” he moved in front of you, stopping your escape, “That's not what I wanted to talk to you about actually, uh, but listen...do you maybe wanna go to dinner with me this weekend? My treat?”

You raised an eyebrow at him, completely unimpressed with his audacity, “You literally just called my boss a crazy killer lesbian and now you're expecting me to go to dinner with you?” as if, you wanted to add but held yourself in check—barely.

“I'm sorry about that,” Sean only shrugged but he was bashful about it but it only served to irritate you further because it was obvious that he didn't quite mean it and you were mentally slapping yourself for just not ordering that damn pizza.

“Whatever, goodnight Sean.”

you tried to move around him but he shifted, keeping you in place and you knew you could've just turned around, you should've but he would've just followed you, “Well wait, you never answered my question. About dinner?”

“No.”

“Well, wait a minute...why not? The lesbian thing? It was just a joke. You can take one, can’t you?”

“And I'm not laughing, get the fuck outta my way Sean—”

“You—”

“I believe she told you to fuck off.”

Sean's eyes snapped up over your head slightly, and you would've laughed at his stupid face had you not been pivoting around yourself, your eyes meeting a very familiar chin and you looked up, but Ally's eyes weren't on you but instead glaring daggers into Sean. He'd be ten feet under if she got her way with that look. You wouldn't want to be on the receiving end of it. (Maybe another version of it...)

“S-senator?”

“Oh, I'm not the crazy killer lesbian anymore? How disappointing.” when Sean could only stare at her like a fish out of the water, Ally stepped forward—a lot closer to you and you didn't have the strength to move or even look away, “I believe you were told to leave. Oh and if I even hear that you looked at or said anything to (Y/n) incorrectly, you're going to have a lot worse than a harassment complaint from a Senator to deal with.”

You didn't see him leave but you heard the squeaks of his sneaker and in seconds flat you and Ally were alone in the cereal aisle and you had absolutely no idea how to even breathe at the moment, much less process that she just saved you from...whatever that even was.

When Ally was satisfied that Sean was gone, she finally looked down at you—there was still a fire in them that you couldn't place but her brown eyes were softer than they were a few seconds ago, and you felt your shoulders relaxing slightly.

“Are you alright, (Y/n)?”

You cleared your throat, taking a small step back—but you still felt exposed under her unblinking stare though not in the same way you felt with Sean, it was the complete opposite, “Yeah thanks to you, so um thanks...a lot. Your timing is impeccable, but what are you doing here so late? Where's Oz? Is he okay?”

Ally smiled at you, shaking her head disturbing her always perfect hairstyle, “Oz is fine, or at least he will be, he must've ate something today at school and it's not sitting well with his stomach,” Ally rolled her eyes but not at the fact that her son had food poisoning but that he had food poisoning from the school lunch. She could only imagine that other children—reforming school lunches was already on her agenda but now she was seriously considering moving ahead of schedule.

“Oh no, how bad?”

“Not too bad...he'll be okay, I'm just here for medicine to stock up on,” Ally reassured you, her eyes flickering over your shoulder for a second, “What are you doing out so late?” and wearing that? She mentally added, but held her tongue because she knew that it wasn't her place to comment on your attire—not that she was complaining about it, but Ally just didn't like the way Sean was leering at you either. She was a hair away from showing him how she earned her title.

Suddenly aware of how much skin you were showing, and that your jacket fell open again but unlike with Sean you didn't feel the need to really cover yourself (even though you knew that you should've). You appreciated her eyes more than his...and probably anyone else's.

“Oh, I went to the gym and since I don't have any food at home...”

Ally chuckled, “Is this your way of asking for a raise?”

“No! No, no you pay me plenty...I'm just too busy to cook is all and then I'm just too tired to eat sometimes. College life.”

“I was teasing, welcome to adulthood. It doesn't stop,” you laughed along with her but you both knew there was truth behind those words.

“I shouldn't keep you, I know you have things to do.”

“You know, I doubt you're going to get a decent nutrient meal here tonight, especially shopping while you’re hungry...” Ally hummed, seemingly thinking hard about something before opening her mouth to carefully speak those words, “You're more than welcome to come home with me for a late dinner if you have nowhere else to be. I'd be more than happy to feed you.”

Heh. Feed me what? You blinked, mildly surprised with how fast your mind went straight to the gutter and you felt your face heating up faster than a house fire, and you had no doubt in your mind that your boss knew exactly what she was doing to you.

But she didn't, Ally didn't have one clue to what was happening in your mind because her own mind was a pile of scrambled eggs while forcing her eyes to stay above your neck. You were both very much still in public.

And the last thing Ally wanted to do was make either you a cliché, especially with her being a public figure in a male dominant career field, both in politics and her restaurant.

“Unless you had your sights set on cereal?” Ally coughed lightly, suddenly nervous and you realized that you'd been standing there staring at her like a moron this whole time.

“No, I'd love to come home with you,” you said cheerfully, meaning every damn word for different reasons, and you smiled at her, before your eyes widened when realizing how forward you sounded, and suggestive as hell, “For dinner! I'd love to come home with you for dinner.”

“Well what else would you be coming for?”

“Dessert.”

Direct result after two blunts...sorry if it's kinda lame tho lmao I went in thinking I was writing smut and gave up somewhere

[monstersandmaw]

Male drider x female reader - Part Three (sfw)

Edit which I’m including in all my works after plagiarism and theft has taken place: I do not give my consent for my works to be used, copied, published, or posted anywhere. They are copyrighted and belong to me.

Sorry for the huge delay on posting this - I was prepping to drive halfway up the country last week, and then when we got here my mother in law fell and badly broke her arm at the shoulder, and had to go to the local hospital, with surgery scheduled for Monday, so it’s been... busy...

Here’s part three of cranky spooder, with part four (final, long, and nsfw) scheduled for next Wednesday so that even if there’s more drama up here in the Lakes, you’ll still get your story.

This one is shorter, but I still hope you enjoy it. The fact that he's a widower is brought up, and the fire in which his wife and unborn eggs died is also mentioned, but briefly, and in no real detail. Hope you enjoy getting to know him a little better, and we find out his name in this one too.

On Monday morning, you pushed the door open with no small degree of trepidation, but found it deserted. Your task for that morning would take you up the wooden and brass ladders into the upper reaches of the library shelves, up and down, up and down. It was exhausting, but you welcomed the exertion after days of standing over piles of books and noting down titles.

On your fifth trip down, arms laden with books, you heard your name spoken from below, but as you looked down, your foot slipped, and the books rained down to the ground.

With a shout, you scrabbled for the ladder rung but missed, and found yourself falling through the void behind you. There were easily fifteen feet between you and the hard floor, but before you could even process what was really happening, something cushioned your back and you bounced softly, swaying perhaps four feet off the ground.

Looking around, you found that you were lying in a hammock of white webbing, slung hastily from a shelf nearby and gripped in the front talons of a drider’s two front legs.

Carefully, he lowered it to the ground and held out his hand to you. Shaking, you stepped from the webbing, too surprised to notice that it wasn’t sticky, and let him lead you back to the table. “Are you alright?” he asked.

You nodded, adrenaline still flooding through you.

“I thought I wasn’t going to catch you for a second there.”

“Thank you,” you managed. “That would have been a nasty fall…”

“I shouldn’t have distracted you like that. It was thoughtless of me.”

Looking up at him as he cringed away slightly, you found yourself asking, “What’s your name?”

“My name? Why?”

You shrugged. “Everyone calls you ‘the master’, but you’re not my master. I don’t work here.”

“Yes you do,” he said, glancing at the table groaning with books for reshelving.

“Only for another four months,” you said. “I mean… I’m not part of your staff. I don't know what to call you.”

He swallowed thickly and half turned from you, showing you his profile. He had a slightly hooked nose and a sharp chin, and his dark, glowering brows didn’t lend any softness to his already angular and gaunt face. “Gilvas,” he said, so softly you nearly missed it. “My name is Gilvas.”

“Well, Gilvas,” you said with a faint chuckle, “I think we’ve got to find a way to stop scaring the living shit out of each other whenever we meet… Unless you want to keep shaking me from the stacks like an apple from a tree…”

He stepped back then and blinked softly. The tiniest smile graced his lips and he stared at you. “Perhaps we should,” he said. Taking another few steps back, his legs moving like silent mechanical levers in an inventor’s toy, he swallowed again and sighed. “What are you working on today?”

Your gaze dropped to the scattered books and you picked one up and held it out to him. “See for yourself.”

He reached falteringly for the book and missed, eyelids fluttering. “Like I care anyway,” he said, turning and leaving.

“Wait,” you called. “I’m sorry. That was thoughtless of me.”

At that, he halted again. “Excuse me?”

“I forgot…” you admitted. “I forgot that…”

“That what?”  he snarled, rounding on you and rearing up again, though only slightly this time. His pendulous body acted as a counterweight and he hung there like a nightmare between the shelves. “That I can’t see you in this light? That catching you was a literal shot in the dark? That I can’t read the title of a book this close to my face?” He brandished the tome before flinging it roughly into the depths behind you.

“Yes,” you said breathlessly.

Your admission must have taken the wind out of him because he sagged, returning his lethally-clawed spider legs to the ground again and turning away, resting his weight on the shelf with a hand as he did so. “I shouldn't have lost my temper,” he said quietly, and then left.

Chance meetings with him after that seemed to occur more regularly, though none matched that one for drama, to your relief. Finally, on one rainy afternoon as you stood by the window taking a break, he approached you. His hair was tied back off his face that day, revealing its gaunt angles and bruised-looking shadows. He was clearly a wreck of his former self, but you thought you could see the ghost of who he had been.

“You’ve finished the first four sections,” he stated.

You turned from the rainy view and nodded. “Yeah. It’s still a lifetime’s work to fix all this, you know? I’m just grouping it by category. If you want a detailed catalogue of everything that’s in here, you need to hire someone permanently.”

He nodded. “I’m aware. Though frankly, I can’t see the point. When I die, the whole estate will be broken up anyway.”

The bluntness of his words took you by surprise and you paced over to him. He wavered, as if on the point of stepping back into the safety of the shadows, but he remained where he was. He had the body of a black widow spider, you had come to realise, with the black carapace marked with the hourglass of red. The red streak in his hair highlighted it, and the colour was picked up again in his inhuman, garnet-red eyes and in the swirling, watercolour birthmark across the right side of his face and neck.

“Don’t say that,” you breathed.

“Why not?” he scoffed. “It’s the truth. I have no heirs.”

“Gilvas…” you began, but you stopped. It wasn’t your place. In the months you’d been here, all the two of you had discussed was poetry and shared the odd comment on whatever your current topic was.

With a long inhale, he said, “Tell me about yourself?”

“What about me?” you laughed. “I’m an archivist, my best friend is an orc, I’ve lived in Starfall Springs all my life, save for going to the university at Old Trollbridge, and —”

“What college?”

“At Trollbridge?” you asked. “Lady Francis.” Lady Francis of the Barbed Arrow, to give it its full title, but no one called it that.

He smiled. “I was at Calnehouse.”

Something softened in him then as he trailed his elegant, if bony, fingertips along the edge of the table.

“Met my wife there.”

Your heart leapt. This was the first time he’d ever mentioned her - or anything personal really. “What did she study?” you asked in a whisper.

“Foreign languages,” he said, voice catching. “She was brilliant.”

“You must have loved her very much…” you offered, your words feeling empty and inadequate.

Meekly, he nodded. “She would have liked you.”

“Oh?”

“Mm.”

With a shy smile, you ventured, “May I ask why?”

He twitched his head in a ‘follow me’ gesture, and you walked by his side to the back of the library. A panel stood between two wide bookshelves, and he pressed a rosette amid the ornate carving. With a click, it sprang free from the wall, and he ducked through it with barely a whisper of room on each side of his body, leaving you to follow after. As the door closed behind you, the corridor was plunged into complete darkness.

You gasped and shot a hand out for the wall.

“This way. It’s not far,” Gilvas murmured, and a moment later, a shaft of light pierced through the absolute blackness and the pair of you emerged at the other end in an unfamiliar part of the house.

“Where are we?” you asked as you watched him squeeze through and step down into a slightly lower passage. He turned and, to your surprise, offered you his hand.

You took it and found his skin cool, almost cold, and his grip strong despite the slight tremble to his fingers. He steadied you and then let go, allowing you to look around. Portraits hung all down the corridor and you stared from one to the other of them. Most seemed to be of driders, although you picked out a tiefling in one, and what appeared to be a human in another.

Finally, your eyes lighted on a striking likeness of a young, female drider with pure white hair and lavender skin. “Is that…?”

Silently, he nodded and blinked slowly.

You crossed to her and stared up at the modestly sized painting. The drider was laughing, caught on the moment of turning to look out at the viewer, hair swirling. You thought of all the life and vivaciousness he’d missed out on since holing himself up in here after her death. “She’s beautiful,” you choked. “I’m so sorry you lost her.”

“There was a fire,” he said. “Took out the whole east wing. Gutted it. I… I couldn’t reach them.”

“Them?” you blurted unthinkingly.

“She was… She was with…”

A chill plunged through you as you remembered what Naril had told you, and you turned from the painting. “Stop,” you hissed. “You don't have to relive that. I’m sorry.”

He blinked down at you, face achingly sad. “I’m glad you came here, you know?”

“I thought I was just a nuisance, reorganising all your books and getting in the way…”

He managed a weak, wonky smile and shook his head. “This place has been the same for too long.”

With a quick glance back over your shoulder at the laughing drider, you asked, “How… Low long?”

“Nine years,” he said. “She died in our last year of university. In the spring.”

“And you’ve lived here alone all this time?”

“I’m not alone,” he said, turning and looking pointedly down the length of the corridor.

Frowning, you turned and found Chiara standing at the far end, gawping at the pair of you. “My lord?” the harpy croaked, looking stunned to find you there. “Is…?” she looked from you to him again. “Is everything alright?”

His lip twitched fractionally, and he nodded. “I was just…” he sighed. “Never mind. I should let you get back to work. I promise not to shake you from the rafters again.”

“Only if you promise to catch me,” you grinned as he opened up the passageway for you.

He faltered. And then nodded. “Deal.”

Final Part --->

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I really hope you folks enjoyed this one! Don’t forget to let me know if you did enjoy it by leaving a like and/or reblogging it!

__

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[mego42]

happy wednesday, have some (twisted, not nice, mutually on drugs without meaning to be so decide for yourselves how you feel about that level of consent) porn

--

"You know what they say, darlin'," Rio drawls from above her, but she can hear the strain in it, and she smiles against his skin. "Keep your enemies close."

"Mmmm." Beth hums thoughtfully, agreeing but also not, as she dips her tongue in his belly button, dragging it slowly around the edge. "They do, but I don't think that's what this is. At least"—she pauses, looking up at him—"not all of it."

She barely knows what she's saying, where the words are coming from. It feels like something dawning, an idea only just cresting the horizon of her mind, illuminating each word of it as she speaks them.

He reaches for her, tucking her hair behind her ear and then dragging his thumb along her cheekbone, over her lips, tugging the lower one down.

"Yeah? What is it, then?"

Beth opens her mouth, and he slips his thumb inside, resting heavily on her tongue. Her cheeks hollow as she closes her lips around him and sucks, letting her teeth scrape along his knuckle as she pulls her head back. 

She definitely feels him twitch this time, feels herself pulse in response. 

"What's that you're always telling me? About rotten eggs?" 

She sits back on her heels, her hands resting lightly on his knees. He slouches down, draping his arms over the sides of the chair. The pose is casual, but she can see something watchful's crept into his eyes.

"Gotta take care of them, right? Except..."  

With one hand, she walks her fingers up his thigh, leaning over and resting her head on the other and looking up at him. 

"I've lied to you. Cheated you." 

God, this is stupid; this is so stupid. There's a part of her screaming for her to stop, to shut up. It's the part that's been running round and round and round in circles for so long, so consumed by fear it's all become a numbing blanket of white noise she hasn't known how to crawl out from underneath. 

But it sounds so small and far away when he's looking at her like that, his brow a straight, heavy line. His eyes hooded but fixed on her, on her knees in front of him, like she's something fascinating and terrible. Powerful. A force to be reckoned with. 

It's like seeing a light at the end of a long, dark tunnel, and she couldn't stop herself from clawing her way towards it even if she wanted to. 

Beth pets his cock, twisting her wrist and cupping his balls. His hips buck, and she smiles up at him. 

"I've stolen from you." She rolls her head, pressing her lips to his thigh, then parts them, sweeping her tongue over his skin before biting down lightly. "Twice."

"Three times." 

His voice is like gravel, and Beth's never been immune to it, but hearing it now—correcting her about this, like this—is something else. It's like he's inside her, rolling through her, touching her everywhere at once. She squirms, pressing her legs together, darting a glance up at him to assess whether or not she should keep going. 

He's looking down at her, lip caught between his teeth, his brow furrowed like he's torn. 

Beth pulls her hand back, and one of his comes round, clasping it, holding it in place on her thigh, keeping her from pulling further away. It happens whip-fast, a motion driven by instinct. 

She raises an eyebrow at him in question, and when he nods once, slow and shallow, she pulls her hand out from under his, leaning back in, pressing a kiss to his knuckles before nosing at his cock, still only halfway to hard but getting there impressively fast. 

"I've set you up with the feds." She licks along the length of him, flicking her tongue over the tip, and he makes a quiet, groaning noise, his hand coming up and resting heavy on her shoulder. "I've shot you."

She sweeps her fingers along the underside and squeezing lightly, then taps his head against her lips, holding him there as she continues.

"I hired someone to take you out. I used your money to do it, then sent you to clean it up."

The noise he makes is indescribable, and when he pulses against her palm, growing harder at her words, the heat simmering inside her erupts into a full boil, fresh arousal dripping out of her, coating her thighs. 

It's bad, it's wrong, it's twisted and messed—no, fucked up. She shouldn't feel like this. He shouldn't feel like this. But at this moment, her head spinning with want for him, nearly as high on the power she holds over him as the drugs swimming through her system, it's hard to care. 

"I'm working with the secret service. I wore—"

Beth falters. 

Rio lets go of her shoulder, tangling his hand in her hair and pulling, yanking her head back, so she's looking at him full on. 

"Say it," he commands.

The low light from the lamps scattered throughout the room stripes dusky shadows and burnished highlights across him. The contrast, combined with the intensity of the way he's looking down at her, sends a shiver up her spine. It's that same tangled thread of fear and want from moments ago with his hand around her throat.

Who is she—what is she—that she can look at him and feel this way and not want it to stop?

"Say it, Elizabeth."

Beth sucks in a breath, clenching down hard on nothing as everything inside her tightens in response to his tone, his look, his name for her.

"I wore a wire to your grandma's house."

The sound he makes is soft. Satisfied. Knowing. 

"What else?"

"I hid it on her bookshelf."

Nothing about him suggests surprise, and Beth wonders if he knew at the time or found out later.

"What else?" 

Rio shakes her head by her hair, pain sparking along the roots and follicles, and she feels it in every cell of her body, lighting her up like a circuit board. 

"I let you touch me so you wouldn't find it."

He smiles at that, but it's not a nice smile. It's predatory and cruel, a lion who's cornered his prey. 

"Yeah? That all?" 

Beth jerks forward, his cock—fully hard now—knocking against the arched and exposed line of her throat. He loosens his grip enough that she can dip her head, flattening her tongue against the vein on the underside, smiling as he grunts. She lets spit gather in her mouth and dribble out, then makes a ring with her fingers and spreads it down the length of him, twisting her wrist to accommodate his girth. 

"No?" he croons, and when she looks up at him through her lashes, his head's tipped to the side, and he's pouting down at her, mockingly confused. "You didn't want nothin' else?"

She bobs her head, taking more of him into her mouth, stopping just shy of the back of her throat, swirling her tongue around him. 

"See, I think you wanted exactly what you got; you just don't want to admit it." His hand in her hair tightens again, not quite taking control of her motion but enough that she can't ignore the fact that he could with little effort. "That's the thing 'bout you. All the shit you do, all the wants you got inside you, you like to pretend they ain't there. That no one can see 'em."

Beth lifts her head, pushing back against his hand. She lets her teeth scrape ever so lightly along him, relishing the way his breath catches.

"But that's the thing, baby. I see 'em."

Her pulse spikes.

"And underneath all of your bullshit, you do too."

She releases his cock with a wet pop, licking her lips, chasing the taste of him as she looks up, meeting his eyes.

"I see you too," she says. "I see the way you look at me. I see the way you want me, in spite of everything. I'm your rotten egg, and you don't care."