#stares into the fucking sun (before they launch themselves into it and die)

[ruleandkillrp]

SHILOH GARNER. DISTRICT NINE. TRAINING SCORE: SEVEN

When Shiloh walked into the training room for his skills presentation, all he could think of was Indy — his fucking sister — sitting in the hallway, still waiting.

But this was not the time nor place to get lost in fucking thought about it, this was the time to do a damn good job at showing the Gamemakers what he could do, even if his mission here was no longer simply to kill Hunter Twill and win.

He had no idea what his mission was now.

So he started off with some things he was good at. Working in the fields, cutting down grain hour after hour beneath the beating sun, more intense than even the stares of the Gamemakers. He picked up a scythe, its blade sharper than any he’d handled in the fields, and moved deliberately towards a line of dummies that stood facing him, no eyes or mouths, nothing resembling faces at all. It was easy to kill them, both physically and mentally, and all it took was a bit of a running start to launch himself at the line and take them off one by one, decapitating each of them with a display of both strength and speed. He had practiced this in training, found it more difficult than he’d thought, and had to adjust said strength and speed to get it just right. But now the heads rolled easily onto the ground.

The dummies themselves were quite heavy, filled with who-knows-what, so that each one had to weigh at least a hundred pounds, by his estimate. Easy: he lifted heavier things on the farm all the time. So he moved to the first headless dummy, picked it up, maneuvering it only a bit awkwardly until he lifted it above his head, then did a few extra lifts, bending and straightening his arms. And then he threw it, as hard as he could, against the rack of swords nearby, so that they all clattered, loud, against the floor.

He lifted the next dummy, told himself it was Hunter Twill, getting into it now with adrenaline, and instead of throwing it immediately, he carried it over his shoulders towards the rock wall. This, he’d scaled several times in training, though never one-handed. Still, he felt confident, and focused on his feet, his free hand, as he dragged both himself and the limp body of the dummy up the wall. He made it halfway up before thinking this must be a waste of fucking time, that surely it would die from this height, surely it was impressive enough, but what did it matter, Indy was going next and he wanted them to be impressed by her too — so he threw the body down onto the ground and then descended, jumping the last few feet.

The next dummy, he threw at the wall; it hit with a loud thud. The final dummy, he slammed to the ground, landed on it, punched it in the face again, again, again, this dummy, too, was Hunter Twill.

What the hell was he going to do?

Breathing hard, he stood, finished, to see that time had been passing strangely. There were still thirty seconds on the clock. One of the four heads was nearby, and without thinking, he picked it up, palmed it in his hand for a second. It was big, but not so big it was impossible to catch. He tossed it in the air, testing its weight, then scooped up the other three. Ten seconds. He got them in the air, throwing one then the next and the next until he was juggling the heads, getting them really flying just as the buzzer sounded. As it went off, he threw each one behind him, bowed, and made his way out of the training center.

#shiloh #training score

[mikrowrites]

andromeda

(vignettes cut from cottages of constellations; can be read as a one-shot)

c!wilbur x reader

summary: a series of memories from y/n’s perspective; the war, the death, the stars, the secret, and the meeting.

warnings: fluff, angst, violence, war themes, bad mental health situations, death, language, manipulation

a/n: this is basically a bunch of scrapped ideas from cottages of constellations that i shoved together bc i already had them written and have been hitting a writer’s block with pt 3. the only part of this you should regard as “canon” is the syndicate vignette, that will be in pt 3. enjoy!!

Y/n and Wilbur kept many secrets.

That was not something unknown by any, not a surprise to some. The two seemed to have words unspoken, existing between the glance of an eye or a brush of a hand, a nod of a head and a ever so soft sigh. Y/n and Wilbur kept many secrets to themselves and themselves only.

The cottage was one. A secret kept along a peaceful riverbank, until the price of TNT seemed higher than that forgotten paradise. There were some other secrets too. Some inconsequential, some almost burdening.

Y/n and Wilbur kept a secret they chose to not share with anyone. A secret that would be for the best if left unsaid.

But the price of freedom would prove higher and more demanding. The price for a tall brunette man to whisper the words into an enemy’s ear, for the enemy to relay it to someone who was once deemed an old friend.

The moment Schlatt spoke the secret out loud to Y/n with threatening intent, everything came crashing to the ground.

It was a secret Schlatt would die with.

—

The War…

Y/n arrived as the sun rose at dawn.

Wilbur was there to meet her, his uniform jacket unbuttoned messily and his cravat askew. As she approached him closer he smiled softly, but the smile was tired, aching, the light in his eyes dimmed by the bags beneath them.

What was the saying, “winning is easy, governing is harder”?

Y/n feared both feats were insurmountably difficult.

“Hello, love.” Wilbur sighed, striding the distance of Y/n’s approach and pulling her into his arms, holding her like a lifeline.

“Hey Wil, it’s okay, I’m here.” Y/n reassured.

He pulled away with a less tight smile, wrapping his fingers around her own, pulling her towards the majestic walls.

“Y/n L/n, welcome to L’manburg.”

And L’manburg was small, and undeveloped, and nothing quite impressive really. But it was her lover’s nation, and to Y/n it looked like a spectacle of heaven. “It’s wonderful.”

Wilbur led her into the camaravan, where battle plans and declarations had been hung and placed about, with an occasional empty bottle or a misplaced piece of weaponry.

Y/n had fought in wars before, in another life, far from this server. She had played the part of diplomat, of ally, of enemy. It was all a language familiar to her like breathing, and she suspected Wilbur was well aware, why else would he write begging her to join the front lines?

She hummed in thought, running her hands over a tabletop. “When’s the next battle, then?”

“Tomorrow.” Wilbur replied simply.

Y/n nodded. “Okay. Where do we start?”

Wilbur smiled once more.

—

The Death…

Y/n struggled against Quackity’s hold, screaming her throat raw. “YOU KILLED HIM!”

Smoke from the firework barrage still lingered on the execution box, Schlatt turning from his podium to Y/n. He smirked. “Y/n, my dear, he was a traitor. You know what happens to traitors.”

Y/n spat at his feet, the man laughing. “That’s cute. Remember Y/n, I hold all the cards in my hands. You don’t want to step out of line, remember? Who knows what secrets could get spilled.”

“I don’t give a fuck.” Y/n glared, her eyes like fire as the two stood off against each other on the podium under Manberg’s watching eyes. “Because I am going to fucking kill you before you even think about it.”

Schlatt laughed loudly again, facing the crowd. “Do you hear that, folks? Miss Y/n is going to kill me!” He lowered his voice, leaning so he was face to face with her. “That’s treason, my friends.”

Y/n hardened her eyes, as Quackity let her arms go. She stepped forwards, her hand on the hilt of her sheathed sword. Everything was quiet, not the crowd’s jabs or cries were heard by her, not even Niki’s protests to spare her best friend.

Schlatt smiled, unsheathing his own sword as Y/n stood her ground, preparing to produce her own in hopes of taking down the tyrannical man once and for all.

“These were not the ideals of L’manberg.” Y/n shouted so the audience could hear her. “And Manberg should be no different. And I’m getting really fucking tired of you hurting everyone and everything I love. So yeah, I’m a traitor, because I value people over a country.”

“People you’d be willing to lose a life for?” Schlatt jeered.

“Time and time again, yes.” She verified.

Schlatt shook his head in amusement. “Y/n, the patron saint of L’manberg. You’ll fall as easily as any man.”

Y/n smirked, drawing her own sword. “Good thing I’m not a man then, yes?”

“STOP! Stop!”

The two adversaries’ heads whipped over, catching the glimpse of a tall brunette in a brown trench coat walking down the aisle of seats, hands out in a preventative gesture. “Stop.”

“Wil…?” The man who left her behind. The man who promised safety. The man who most importantly, loves her. The former President, to protect his former First Lady.

Schlatt’s sword ran through Y/n’s body. Wilbur screamed.

The girl gasped, grasping Schlatt’s shoulder’s with tight fingers, looking at him in shock. He had gotten the upper hand. Y/n had never lost a duel, yet this one was over before it had even started because she did the one thing she had been trained to never do in battle.

Y/n found distraction in a lover.

Wilbur would always be her hubris.

Schlatt leaned over with booze-tainted breath to whisper in her ear. “Your secret is safe with me.”

He then ripped the sword out of her, and everything went black. The last thing Y/n heard before waking up laying in the soft grass of a forest was the sound of Wilbur shouting her name.

Y/n was killed by JSchlatt

—

The Stars…

Long ago, in a world different from where she was now, Y/n’s mother had taught her every constellation strewn across the night sky. The young girl would marvel at her mother, eyes shining with curiosity and awe as the soft-spoken woman would point to each cluster of stars.

Life was simple then, before war after war Y/n was forced to fight and win. Before aching loss and hurt.

Y/n laid on the angled roof of Philza’s house, her lips parted slightly as her eyes traced designs of warriors and beasts and lovers. Her breath fogged into the night sky, the girl indifferent to the cold surrounding her.

“Kid, what’re ya doin’?”

She flicked her eyes down to where Technoblade stood beneath her, staring up at her form with disinterest but yet a glint of confusion or curiosity.

Y/n smirked, her eyes traveling back up to the sky. “Chasing constellations.”

Technoblade definitely had the right idea to be a tint worried at the sight of Y/n on a roof, staring off into nothing. It had been a week and a half since they had both blown up New L’manberg, and her mind was undoubtedly conflicted. Techno supposed if he were in the same situation, he’d feel the same perhaps. But now (though he’d never show it) he was just concerned of the well-being of his old friend.

So Technoblade was immensely surprised when Y/n patted a spot on the roof next to her and said: “cmon”.

The blood god was silent and still for a moment before pulling out his trident, using it to launch himself up and land gracefully onto the roof next to her. The girl didn’t flinch a bit, just turned back to the night sky.

Y/n looked tired, Techno noticed, but yet relieved. He hadn’t seen her this relaxed since their last war fought together away from this server, where she had spoken of a kindhearted brunette she was running away with after the battle’s conclusion.

Technoblade sat next to her, the girl sighing. “No more wars, Techno. I’ve fought my last one. I’m tired of being a pawn in someone’s game, of breaking myself for others.” Y/n huffed out a laugh. “I think I might try that retirement plan.”

“Retirement is overrated.” Technoblade groaned. “So if I made you an offer, you’d refuse?”

Y/n shrugged, pulling her knees to her chest and wrapping her arms around her legs, resting her chin on her kneecaps. “Depends on the offer. I’m pretty done being taken advantage of.”

Techno turned to look at her. “All these years and you don’t trust the proof I wouldn’t.”

“Can’t blame a girl for having trust issues.” She grumbled. “What’s the offer?”

“I’m putting together a group of people with common ideals. Anarchy, we’d be there to abolish these kingdoms’ governments before they can cause more death and destruction, cause more Wilburs.” Techno explained, the girl turning to him at the sound of her ex-lover’s name. “We’re called the Syndicate.”

Y/n murmured the name to herself, furrowing her eyebrows. “Who’s we?”

“Philza and I. Zephyrus and Prostileus. And, potentially, you.” He stated. “Codenames.”

She turned back to the stars, silent for a few minutes. Technoblade patiently sat in the quiet, letting the girl mull over her thoughts. It had been about five minutes when he spoke up. “So? What’ll it be?”

Y/n pursed her lips, before parting them with a soft exhale. “Andromeda… call me Andromeda.”

Technoblade smiled at his old comrade in battle, now considered an ally and friend.

“Welcome to the Syndicate, Andromeda.”

—

The Secret…

Y/n wasn’t sure how long she had sat in the makeshift cell. Had it been days? Weeks? She didn’t know. All she knew was locked away to stand trial for “aiding fugitives in escaping”.

Her thoughts drifted to Wilbur, as they usually did in moments like these, where she fought desperately to remember the sound of his laughter or his loving assurances. Y/n hoped he and Tommy were safe, and she knew they were smart so they would be.

But she feared for Fundy as well. They had spoken on the night he announced his campaign for president, their hushed voices behind the podium as the rest of the server were asleep.

Y/n met the boy in the shadows of the podium, Fundy looking at her for some kind of reaction. Would she shout in anger? Cry in sadness? Running against his father was a betrayal, he should be reprimanded by the closest thing to a mother he had.

Instead, she smiled, and hugged him.

Fundy tensed in surprise before wrapping his arms around her, burying his face in her shoulder as his hands clutched the back of her jacket.

“You know I have to support and stand by your father,” she started, softly rubbing small circles into Fundy’s back. “but it will never overshadow how proud I am of you.”

“Thank you, mama.” He sighed out, Y/n smiling kindly.

“You are my pride and you are my joy, Fundy. There’s nothing you could do that could make me love you less. Don’t forget that, okay?” Y/n asked.

Fundy nodded his head against his mother figure’s shoulder, still embracing her.

He missed the tears in her eyes as she bit her lip to keep her walls up. Indulging in this moment wasn’t something she was deserving of, and she knew that.

She had chosen to forego this path, it would be unfair of her to try and act as though she hadn’t changed everything.

The door to empty room creaked open, Y/n looking up to meet the eyes of a man she had once thought of as an old friend, but now some who repulsed her more than anything on this server. The man smirked, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Y/n. Long time, no see.”

“Schlatt.” The name sounded like venom on her tongue, Y/n glaring at the man with dark eyes.

“How are you, hm?” Schlatt pulled a chair over for him to sit on, Y/n scoffing in disbelief.

“I don’t know Schlatt, you tell me. What the fuck is wrong with you, you were our friend!” She shouted.

Schlatt sat back in his hair. “I’m no one’s friend here. I’m a president here to run this country.”

Y/n rolled her eyes and leaned back against the wall, the man smirking.

“I want you to join me.”

That made the girl start to laugh, shaking her head. “You are something else, Schlatt.”

“I’m serious, I want you to join me and Manberg.” Schlatt deadpanned.

“Fuck off.” was Y/n’s reply.

Schlatt sighed, standing from where he sat, and paced to another side of the room. “Tell me, does your little lover boy have an infatuation with TNT?”

Y/n furrowed her eyebrows. “Not that I’m aware, and if I was I wouldn’t tell you.”

“Fair enough.” Schlatt said, his footsteps clacking against stone as he further paced. “Well, he recently made some deals with the devil and came into possession of a lot of fucking TNT. You wanna know what he traded for that much power? Secrets.”

She stiffened, eyeing Schlatt warily, her voice barely above a whisper. “Secrets?”

Schlatt hummed, grinning. “Oh yeah. Loads of ‘em. I’m a chronic eavesdropper, so I had to get the scoop. And you’ll never guess what I heard.”

Y/n stood slowly, like an animal bracing for a fight, her fists shaking. She uttered the man’s name in warning, Schlatt stopping and turning to her with a wicked grin.

“You have a child.”

It felt as though all the oxygen had been sucked out of the room, Y/n momentarily forgetting how to breathe. Her mouth felt dry, her body numb. Schlatt laughed, knowing he had her right where he wanted her.

“Fundy’s actually your son! Biologically and everything! And you never told him, you just left!” Schlatt exclaimed.

Y/n burst forwards, slamming Schlatt against the wall and lodging her forearm across his throat. She spoke with a low, dangerous voice. “I was young. I was stupid. And I wasn’t ready to be a mother. I couldn’t be the mother he needed.”

“So you left. And then you come back and you play the part of his mother, while the poor boy thinks your lover fucked a fish? That’s fucked up, Y/n.” He chuckled lowly.

Y/n pursed her lips, glaring into Schlatt’s eyes. “What do you want?”

Schlatt slowly removed Y/n’s forearm from his throat. “I want you to join me as one of my officials. I want you to betray Wilbur and Tommy. And if you don’t…”

“… I tell Fundy your big secret… and then I personally kill him until he’s dead.”

Y/n felt completely and absolutely defeated. She had never let someone have the upper hand on her. Not like this. She remained distraughtly silent, Schlatt nodding Ashe received his answer.

He reached into his pocket, throwing her comm device onto the floor. “Lover boy’s been trying to call you for weeks. You should call him back one last time and tell him to never call again. You know what’s at stake.” Schlatt then turned and walked towards the door. “I’ll have a fine pressed suit for you tomorrow morning and a more comfortable room, then the real work begins. Goodnight, Y/n.”

And he was gone.

Y/n fell to her knees, her body shaking with fear and guilt. Why did she have to be so stupid why did she have to create such deep-sewn weaknesses, why did she leave her son?

She reached for the comms device, her trembling fingers clicking a button as she spoke out in a terrified whisper. “Wilbur?”

—

The meeting…

Y/n hated parties with a passion she could not fathom. The celebration of another war won, a country saved. She was just a wandering soldier, moving from one battle to the next, finding celebration a little tone-deaf.

But nonetheless she stood in the banquet hall, her sash of medals and patches detailing her great accomplishments hung on her frame, with the world’s most uncomfortable dress covering her. Technoblade had told Y/n to liven up, drink and dance a little, though what a fucking hypocrite because he didn’t show up.

Y/n sipped her champagne, leaning against the bar top, a bored expression laid across her face as she traced circles into the wood with her finger. She didn’t register the boy standing next to her, eying her with curiosity before he spoke up. “One vodka neat, please.”

She finally indulged to meet his gaze, the tall brunette smiling and offering his hand. “Wilbur Soot.”

Y/n knocked back the rest of her champagne, before shaking his hand. “Y/n L/n.”

“You seem bored, Y/n L/n.” Wilbur observed.

She scoffed. “Parties aren’t really my thing.”

“So I can tell.” He quipped, Y/n beginning to question the audacity of this kid. But he just smiled widely, pulling a stool and sitting next to her.

“Look, I don’t know what you want, but if it’s getting in my pants tonight it’s definitely not happening.” Y/n bluntly responded.

“Woah there! Take me out to dinner before we discuss that.” Wilbur defended, retrieving his drink from the bartender.

Y/n couldn’t even tell if the man was joking, but she rolled her eyes anyways. He was silent, she could tell he was trying to size her up. Figure out what made her brain tick, how to read her.

Must be frustrating for him to know he can’t.

She sighed, pulling away from the bar top, smoothing out her despised dress. “Well, thanks for the chat Wilbur, but I’d best be going.”

“Of course. Have a good night, Y/n.” Wilbur raised his drink and tipped it towards her in a kind of toasting or saluting gesture. She was a high ranked militia official anyways.

Y/n nodded and walked away, Wilbur watching her as she left. What she didn’t know, was he could read her like an open book. He saw her pain, her guilt, her stone disposition. But he saw her kindness, her generosity, her beauty. Wilbur was intoxicated by the mere presence of her, and her mystery.

Wilbur just had a gut feeling they’d cross paths again. And when they did, maybe in a space she was more comfortable than the loud and cheering party, maybe he’d offer her a drink, or even a dance. The boy slammed his drink on the table before standing, and rushing across the room.

Why wait when you know?

Y/n felt a gentle hand on her wrist, the girl turning to see Wilbur. She raised an eyebrow in question as he released his soft grip, and held his palm flat out in front of her. “May I have this dance.”

She had seen years of pretty boys offering her drinks and dances and the world. Each disappointed, each never following through. But Y/n looked up at Wilbur, and she could see the world in his brown eyes, she could see hope and chivalry and mirth. She pursed her lips, the boy seeming to deflate at her monotone and silent response.

Y/n took his hand, to the boy’s surprise. “One dance. That’s all.”

They danced all night. And laughed all night, more than Y/n had in years.

Y/n had never felt more alive than the night she met Wilbur Soot.

#wilbur soot x reader #wilbur soot imagine #wilbur soot imagines #wilbur x reader #wilbur soot x y/n #dream smp imagines #dream smp imagine #dream smp x reader #dsmp imagine #dsmp imagines #dsmp x reader #c!wilbur soot x reader

[ace-in-a-shopping-cart]

Love On Open Waters: Chapter 2: Failure

Chapter 1

Word Count: 1,027

The first few days Patton was in that cabin, he was barely able to stand with the rocking of the ship beneath him. After a while, he got his sea legs under him and was able to stand and walk around, not that there was much to do in such a small space.

About a week after his capture, Apollo came to give him his meal and told him that he was allowed on deck after he was done with it. Patton, overjoyed at the thought of feeling the sun on his skin and getting some fresh air, hurriedly ate the meager helping.

He followed Apollo out onto the deck. The sun felt warm on his face and he took a second to close his eyes and just enjoy it. The winds buffeted him and almost pushed him over but he opened his eyes and caught himself against the cabin wall. When he got his bearings, he took a few steps and leaned against the railing. 

The peace of the open water lasted just a few moments before Patton looked to his side and found a sailor with a weapon. He thought back to when Thomas had insisted he learn to at least protect himself if he was going to be wandering the castle and it’s grounds so late at night. Keeping that sailor in his periphery, he scanned the side of the boat and found a small dinghy tied to the side.

Launching himself into action, he barreled toward the armed sailor. He slammed into the man, causing them both to fall backwards. Patton struggled to pull the sword from its scabbard, lamenting the lack of a weapon he was familiar with. Just as he got it out of the sheath, hands were grabbing at him and trying to pull him off.

He struggled and shouted but was eventually pried off the sailor. Large hands pulled the sword from his grasp and let it drop to the deck with a clang, strong arms wrapped around his waist and threw him over a shoulder. He had a good look at the back of the captain’s green coat as he was brought, kicking and shouting, across the deck and deposited back into his cabin, all while being carried as if he weighed no more than a sack of potatoes from the cellar.

⚓⚓⚓

Remus was at the wheel when Apollo approached him. “Should I let the prisoner out now, Cap’n?”

Squinting against the glare of the sun, he pulled the brim of his hat lower. “Go ahead. But keep an eye on him or it’s your head that’ll roll!” He called the last part as the pirate scurried away.

He watched Apollo head down to the kitchen, come back up with a tray of food, and go into the cabin they were using as a brig. His hands steady at the wheel and no other ship in sight, he kept an eye on the cabin door. His first mate, Susan Webb, commandeered his attention to start planning their next cargo drop off. A shout and clatter brought his focus to the deck just in time to see their captive tackle Asher.

Remus handed the wheel to Susan and rushed to join the fray. Jericho and Apollo, the two closest, aided him in hauling the prisoner off their gunner. Remus threw the man, who seemed intent on causing at least one pirate harm, over his shoulder and marched him to his cabin where he deposited him on the bed.

The prisoner, Remus made a mental note to learn his name as this was getting tiring, shot up and tried to run past Remus but he caught his arm and pushed him back as gently as he could. Still, the man’s back hit the partition hiding a portion of the bed from the rest of the cabin.

“What the fuck were you thinking?!” Remus stared the man in the face.

He twisted his lips into a scowl. “What does it look like I’m doing? Trying to escape!”

“And how were you going to do that? Steal the dinghy? Where do you think you could go from there?” Remus took his hat off and ran his hand through his hair before shoving the hat back on. “You would have starved before you got anywhere!”

The prisoner scoffed and turned away. “I would have dealt with that when it came to it. Even so, I would rather die of starvation than be kept a prisoner.”

“You’ve got spunk, I’ll give you that.”

Remus finally calmed down and took the time to actually look at the man he was keeping captive on his ship. His skin was slightly darker than the wood beside him, hair as black as tar. His light blue shirt was rumpled and his grey jacket was skewed slightly. Remus could have sworn he’d had glasses when he was kidnapped but they weren’t on his face now. Earrings glinted on his ears, simple silver loops that made him look sophisticated.

Remus ran his hand through his hair again. “Still, you’re going to stay in here until I’m sure you’re not going to try to pull a stunt like that again.”

“And what if I do?”

“Then you can stay in here until we can agree on something. You don’t try to maul my crew, I won’t let anything harm you during your stay.” Remus turned on his heel and exited, locking it behind him.

His crew had picked themselves off the deck and restored some semblance of order. The ones involved in the scuffle stood as close to attention as they could, all lined up and ready to get reprimanded. Instead, Remus just sighed. “Did anyone get seriously injured?”

They exchanged looks, Apollo tossing his husband a questioning tilt of an eyebrow and Jericho responding with a quirk of the lips. Finally, Susan spoke up. “No one’s hurt, Captain. We’ve just got some bruised egos is all.”

Remus nodded. “Susan, call Brian up and tell him it’s his turn at the wheel. I’m going to The Room for a while.” With that, he descended into the bowels of the ship.

Chapter 3

Main Taglist (Send an ask to be added or removed!): @antisocial-xxxpert, @more-fandon-than-friends, @vindicatedvirgil, @star-crossed-shipper, @the-sympathetic-villain, @battlebunnyteardropsinthesun, @punk-academian-witch, @sarcasmremovedsoul, @private-snippers, @mygenderisidiot, @mistythegenderqueermess, @5-falsehoods-phonated

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#loow #remus sanders #patton sanders #dukeality #pirates #pirate!remus #beauty and the beast au #ace writes

[lit-in-thy-heart]

If you want to! Mergwaine and tackle hug (romantic or platonic). Idk Gwaine is just the type and it’d be so cute. Maybe after they’ve been reunited??? Or not whatever works 💗

@rainbowvamp thank you for the prompt!! 💕 i took a couple of liberties in that it's a tackle and a hug, i hope that's alright, and i'm sorry about the tone, they just seem to be getting angstier and angstier...

(set a few days after camlann)

as usual, under the cut, and thank you again!!

Whilst the rest of the court marvelled at Gwaine’s miraculously hasty recovery, Gwaine was embracing his newly-discovered invincibility by patrolling the Darkling Woods alone.

He had been clinging to life by a thread, but even in his deadened state he had recognised the hands that had slowly coaxed his body back to consciousness. Instinctively, Gwaine’s own hand jumped to his chest, where he had felt Merlin’s fingers brush against his skin. He wasn’t sure if he’d called out his name, if they’d even spoken, or quite what Merlin had done to him, but Gwaine had been able to sit up after a day and Merlin had been gone.

Healing spells had never been Merlin’s strong suit and Gwaine knew that they were capable of draining every last trace of a skittish pulse if the healer was already weakened. And Merlin would be weakened after watching Arthur die, that Gwaine knew all too well. And Gwaine couldn’t lose Merlin, not after everything that had happened. Particularly not as a result of Merlin reversing Morgana’s damage.

Gwaine pushed through the branches, tucking his hair behind his ear and pausing for a moment by a large oak tree. His fingers fumbled for the knots on the trunk as his legs threatened to crumble beneath him, seeking out the letters carved into the wood. It had been a ridiculous idea, and childish at that, but that hadn’t stopped him from leaving the scar of his initials interlinked with that of Merlin’s in the soft sunset so many years before. Severing himself from the tree as the strength returned to him in gradual waves, Gwaine moved further into the woods, plunging into the translucent darkness left by the shadows of the sun as the leaves above him obscured its path. He and Merlin had grown apart over the last year, and Gwaine had been trying his best to not let it show just how desperately his feet were treading water beneath the surface in the effort to keep their relationship afloat. Merlin had not left his side for a week after Gwaine had returned from Morgana’s clutches with Percival, but he had been paying more and more attention to Arthur and his well being, which Gwaine had attempted to apply logic to. It had made sense that Merlin was focused on Arthur, particularly with the multiple threats lurking in the shadows, and Gwaine himself had sworn loyalty to Arthur. Though that didn’t mean that his service, as it had always been, wasn’t primarily dedicated to Merlin. Everything he did – or had done – for Arthur had been because Merlin had asked him to, or because Gwaine had been able to see the expression lingering in the eyes that he knew so well, the fear that had darkened the delicate irises for the past year.

For a year, Gwaine had mourned the moments where Merlin would unflinchingly tell him about his father, or his magic, or the numerous dangers he’d encountered – though that last one had usually been reserved for when Gwaine had needed a scare to rid himself of hiccups. He had watched Merlin close off more and more of himself and Gwaine hadn’t even realised that Merlin had been dying until he had collapsed on Gwaine’s bed hours after the attempted assassination of Arthur and begrudgingly told him the whole tale. Even then he’d elected to omit the fact that Gwen was wanting Arthur dead, but Gwaine also knew that Merlin had the opinion of himself that his word was worth nothing, despite Gwaine having told him multiple times that he would believe Merlin over Arthur any day of the week. And if Merlin had spent the last of his spirit on Gwaine before they even had the chance to recover the land decimated by drought, Gwaine would never forgive himself.

Through the hesitant birdsong, the snapping of a twig resounded like a crossbow bolt to the skull. Gwaine pressed himself to a tree trunk and, one hand hovering over his sword, ignited sparks that scattered themselves across his fingertips. Through the branches, he caught sight of a hooded figure and a glint of metal and, putting aside all cautions of taking it easy, launched himself at the intruder. Having knocked them to the ground, Gwaine roughly turned them over onto their back between his legs, hand drawn back behind his head as the sparks evolved into ribbons of fire, his eyes burning with the same heat that Merlin’s had flared with so many times.

The same heat that was flickering right in front of him.

In wonder, Merlin reached up with his fingertips to graze the stubble on Gwaine’s chin, the drawn and anxious expression buried amidst it, the bruises stretched out beneath his eyes. When he spoke, he sounded like he was older than time itself. ‘I didn’t think it would work,’ he whispered, the fire in his eyes fading.

Instead of the vibrant blue that Gwaine was used to, the gaze that held his was commanded by the uncertain watery depths of the sky snatched between storm clouds. It was like all the colour had been drained from him and Merlin had been left with the dregs of his former self, and Gwaine’s hands, dropping the flames like he had dropped his guard around the warlock so long ago, jumped to Merlin’s cheeks to check that he was not some trick of his mind.

‘What happened to you?’

‘I gave you all,’ Merlin breathed back, eyes still roaming his form. ‘Because I couldn’t save Arthur, so I had to save you. Morgana was the darkness to my light, and you are my light. I couldn’t let her corrupt you. So I poured everything I had into reversing her damage. I poured everything I had into you.’

‘And nearly killed yourself in the process,’ said Gwaine sharply, fingers darting to the faint heartbeat beneath Merlin’s shirt. He slid from him, trying to conceal his trembling lower lip, and shook out his hair as he held out his arms. ‘Come here, you self-sacrificing fuck.’

Merlin fell into him like an acorn burying itself in the ground, rooting itself to the very earth it would one day become in the hopes of being able to slowly flourish. Savouring the cool touch, Gwaine wrapped his arms around the warlock in the attempt to transfer some of his body heat. Merlin was still breathing, which was always a good sign, and the heart thumping against him was stronger than it had been mere moments before. They hadn’t held each other like this since the morning that Merlin had been released from the cells after being cleared of poisoning Arthur. When Merlin touched him, it was like a butterfly was darting across Gwaine’s skin and seeking out the nectar hidden in his pores, and Gwaine closed his eyes.

‘Do you still have your magic?’

Merlin’s reply was thickened by the threat of tears. ‘I think so. It doesn’t feel as strong as it did, but I know a way to get it back if it is gone. You didn’t tell me that you’d been practising.’

Gwaine’s fingers were making their way along Merlin’s ribs. ‘There wasn’t really a chance to drop it into conversation,’ he softly said. ‘You were preoccupied with—You were preoccupied with other things.’

‘I’m sorry. For isolating myself. I just—I couldn’t afford to get distracted. I couldn’t allow everything that had been built to crumble so soon after.’ Merlin dropped his head into Gwaine’s shoulder. ‘It has anyway, though, and I’ve hurt you in the process. And I should have stayed by your side, when I healed you. But there were other voices and I was selfish and couldn’t handle the prospect of yet another failure, this time with an audience, and—’

‘Merlin, it’s alright. You’ve had so much pressure put on you for so long and, yes, you’ve hurt me, but you’re a selfless bastard who was doing it to protect me. I’d say that I expect you to make it up to me, but you’ve just saved my life, so I think that counteracts some of the distance that was between us. Not that I’ll say no to flowers, if that inclination possesses you,’ Gwaine added as an afterthought.

Pulling away, Merlin abandoned his fingers to Gwaine’s soft hair, gaze darting anywhere but Gwaine’s warm eyes. Then, he met them. ‘You know I love you, don’t you?’

Had Merlin asked that several months ago, Gwaine would have screamed that he show him, but Merlin had been willing to sacrifice himself for Gwaine. And Merlin being prepared to drain himself of his magic, the one thing that he had defined himself by – which was arguably not the best idea, but there would be time to show Merlin how much more he was worth – was more than enough proof that he loved Gwaine. ‘I know now. And I love you too.’

‘I won’t leave you again, I promise you.’

A lifetime of living as a pariah was screaming at Gwaine to not trust Merlin, to push him away to protect himself, but his heart was weeping and Merlin’s stare was so fierce for one who seemed so fragile. ‘I know you won’t.’ Gwaine pressed a kiss to Merlin’s forehead, lips lingering as he closed his eyes. ‘I know you won’t.’

#perhaps a little pleased with myself at actually managing to finish this one today even if there isn't much hug #i'm sorry...my mind just goes to places and my fingers follow #hope you like it and thanks again! #merlin #gwaine #merwaine #mergwaine #bbc merlin #hug prompts #lit writes

[lexa-lives-in-us]

Oooooh does this mean an epic car chase?? Like full-on action movie chase??? with beau and yasha on motorcycle(s) following closely behind or being completely unhinged and piloting a helicopter 👀👀👀

Part 6 of ???

Read 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5

The Bugatti skids through the asphalt of Boulevard Saint-Marcel, covering the screams of innocent civilians as Dairon struggles to keep it on the road.

Marion, next to her, alternates between pressing a hand against her heart and laughing in pure, unbridled freedom.

“When’s the last time you left the Chateau?” Dairon asks, jerking the wheel to the midpoint to straighten the car.

“Oh, decades. Before Jester was even born.” Marion breathes out, followed by an expletive that Dairon does not understand, too focused on trying not to crash into the car ahead of them.

“We need to get out of city traffic, this car is fast, but also too recogniza-”

Dairon doesn’t even finish their sentence, as the screeching of more wheels reaches their ears.

Marion turns to look outside her own window, and Dairon can see two darker cars now following them.

As they see a turn for Rue Froidevaux, they jerk the wheel once more and jump into it, nearly avoiding an elderly couple crossing the street.

Taking advantage of the temporary lack of cars on the street, Dairon slams their foot on the pedal, and the Bugatti shoots forward with a ridiculously powerful roar.

Dairon feels their body being pressed against the seat of the car, the gun digging in their back holster painfully, and a grin spreads across their features.

“Charming.” Marion laughs, one hand pressed against the roof of the car and the other one holding onto her own seat. “Try not to kill us, darling. I still very much would like to finish what we started in that elevator.”

Dairon slows just lightly, the traffic now too intense, and checks the rear view mirror to notice the two cars now having become three. Well, fuck.

Dairon slips a hand in their back holster, freeing themselves of the gun digging into their back, and holds it out to Marion.

“Keep this for me, please.” they mutter, scanning the street with expert eye. They can hear sirens in the background, and they are not surprised to realize that the Paris Police has now gotten involved.

Dairon aims for the roundabout, knowing this will take all her focus to try and get out of it as smoothly as possible while also attempting to lose at least one car, and mutters: “This is about to get bumpy, Marion.”

Marion hums, and Dairon doesn’t have time to stop her, because the roundabout is right there, but only witnesses the Ruby of the Sea lowering her passenger window.

Dairon has to jerk the car into a drift, as they hit the heavily trafficked roundabout, and Marion extends one arm outside the window... Taking aim with Dairon’s gun.

Marion shoots twice, in rapid succession, and what follows is a horrible screeching sound, and one of the three black cars front flips into the traffic, both front wheels completely blown.

The remaining two cars are too focused avoiding the first to respond to the fire, and Marion raises her window again and leans back against the seat, just as Dairon brings the steering wheel back and skids onto the traffic of Boulevard Pasteur.

They turn to look at Marion, who is calmly straightening her hair up using the reflection in the mirror of the sun visor.

“You’re staring, darling.” Marion smiles, pressing a thumb under her lips to fix the lipstick Dairon must’ve smudged a few minutes back.

“You are most certainly a sight to behold, Marion Lavorre.” Dairon can only say, checking the rear view mirror again. The two cars are still behind them, although much further away.

For whatever reason, that makes Marion blush, as the woman releases a low chuckle.

“Well, thank you.”

The traffic lights become red in front of them, and Dairon has to slam her foot on the break in order to avoid the cars in front of them, and they instinctively shoots an arm out to keep Marion’s body from jerking forward.

They maneuver the car around the others, gaining a series of honking and screams from the other drivers, and they turn briefly to see with horror that the cars are now tailing them again. But unfortunately, they are also lowering their own windows to take aim.

But then...

Dairon feels it before she sees it.

The wave of energy released by the rocket of Yasha’s bazooka as it impacts against one of the cars is strong enough to kick their car forward as well.

It’s pure chaos, and as they start onto Boulevard de Grenelle, Dairon begins to hear the horrible whirring sound of a helicopter. So not good.

Beau’s black motorcycle nears Dairon’s window, so they lower it.

On the bike, Beau is trying her best to keep the vehicle steady, as Yasha whirls around on the backseat, dress half ripped but still somehow together, thighs clenched around the hot motor of the bike. That can’t be pleasant either.

Both of them look absolutely wrecked.

Beau has a deep gash cutting through her cheek, and blood staining the front of her once white blouse. Yasha’s arms are covered in new cuts and bullet holes, but the both of them have a determinate expression on their faces.

“Dairon!” Beau screams above the absolute chaos. “You have to get her out! They want her!”

Dairon has no fucking clue what is going on. They don’t know why these people are after Marion, but they are going to die before they let them get their hands on Marion Lavorre.

Dairon opens their mouth to ask how, since they are now speeding onto a fucking bridge, but as the famous sight of Pont de Bir-Hakeim comes into view, the helicopter flies past their heads, twirling in a very dangerous way as it makes a full one-eighty maneuver.

A moment later, a rope ladder unravels from inside the flying vehicle.

Dairon turns to look at Marion, and Marion looks back at them, for the first time truly scared.

“Shit.” she says, and Dairon can only agree. Shit indeed.

They both watch as Beau speeds in front of them, and as Yasha grabs onto the ladder and holds onto it.

Beau brings herself underneath it, then fully and recklessly launches herself into the air, trying to grab onto the ladder as well... And missing.

As the rope slips through her fingers, and as Dairon releases a strangled noise of fear, Yasha’s hand slaps onto Beauregard’s yanking out and upward in a quick motion.

Beauregard starts climbing the rope, making her way around Yasha and then up, with way too much ease and familiarity for Dairon lickings. They’re gonna have a talk with her.

Dairon brings the car under the ladder, thanking God that it’s a convertible.

They can hear the police sirens getting closer and they can see the other car nearing them faster than they’d like.

Wind hits both of their faces, and the helicopter lowers just slightly to allow them to grab onto it.

“GO!” Dairon screams, and Marion manages to unlatch the seatbelt and grab onto the rope. With the help of Yasha, still hanging onto the ladder with one hand -Dairon just briefly wonders where the fuck she left her bazooka- Marion makes her way up.

Dairon focuses back on the road, trying to keep the car steady enough to allow her the same maneuver as Beau, but fully knowing it’s going to be much harder.

And then, from the corner of her eye, they see the mouth of a rifle being positioned from outside the car window, right behind her, and they know what’s about to happen before it does.

The shot is clean and perfect, something that Dairon actually admires, and blows the Bugatti’s back tire off its wheel.

Dairon jerks the steering wheel, drifting with the car to avoid the civilian traffic, and the Bugatti finally flips.

The impact is annihilating, and Dairon feels the cracking of her right wrist as it snaps in the crash, but then the car keeps flying...

...Right past the guard rail and into the river below.

The last thing Dairon hears is the horrible, blood curdling pained scream of one Marion Lavorre, before the car plunges into the waters below.

#critical role #undercover au #my work #cobalt ruby #also #beauyasha #prompts

[sunflowersunshinevol6]

The Only Hope

Pairing: Harry Styles x OC

Warnings: post apocalyptic,

Summary: The world as everyone knew it, ended December 31, 2020 when Nuclear War finally happened. Harry Styles and several other celebs were able to hide out in bunkers away from the chaos in cryo-chambers, not aging, not changing for ten years. When Harry finally awakes he thinks he's alone, but shadows move around him and a new order, Selah's Gate, has taken over.

A/N: Inspired by the album 'Danger Days' by My Chemical Romance and their song 'Destroya' in particular

Anne was nervous, twisting her wedding ring round on her finger as she looked at the chamber Harry was urging her into.

"I don't know about this Love."

"We don't have time mum."

The emergency sirens had been blaring for a half hour, ever since the news footage had showed the Nucs being launched. People all over the world were running scared. This was it, it was happening.

"It doesn't feel right." She said again. Harry gave his mom a pleading look.

Elites had been buying these cryo chambers for years in the case of an event like this. It was why Harry had had the bunker built beneath the house in the first place. Since he'd come to be a celebrity there had always been whispers and rumors of the end, and if you could afford to save yourself and those you love, you would wouldn't you.

Harry turned his gaze to Gemma. He had bought three chambers, one for each of them. Gemma reached out, touching her mother gently.

"Harry did this for us mum."

"But what about the others....all the people who won't survive?" Harry shook his head. He was always about treat people with kindness, but in this instance....family first. "People will die Harry. Are you willing to live with that once we wake?" Harry felt tears in his eyes, he swallowed the knot in his throat and looked her in the eye.

"Yes.....if it means saving you."

10 years later

Fallon felt the buggy catch air as she drove up and over the hill. It was hot, just like every other day, not a cloud in the sky and no sign of rain.

She couldn't remember the last time it had actually rained in Selah. Probably before the bombs dropped, there was a rumor about a place North called 'Eden' where it always rained and was always green. When the dust cleared after the bombs hit the first thing to go was all the water bottles, water was hoarded unless you found an underground spring somewhere you could stock up on.

She parked the buggy outside of the remains of the crumbling mansion. She had been coming here for weeks, scrounging and taking what was still in good shape to sell at the local market.

Most of the actual building was gone. But the main area was still in tact. She stepped over bricks and mortar as she made her way into the house once more.

Sometimes she would close her eyes and imagine what it must have been like to live here, then she shakes her head. Being wealthy is what destroyed the world,.wealth and the greed that came along with it.

She was searching what must have formally been a bedroom when she saw the airtight door in the ground. It was silver and covered in dust from the sandy air.

"What the hell?" She knelt down, twisting the heavy door. It came open with a hiss, she grabbed her flashlight, shining it down into the darkness, a ladder leading the way down.

It was a good ten feet to the bottom. Fallon landed hard on the concrete, it sent vibrations through her feet and up her legs, but she dusted herself off and shined her flashlight into the small room.

She was surprised to find three cryo chambers, the beds the wealthy had used to protect themselves from the blast, another reason former wealthy people no longer survived in this life. They were cowards. Selfish. Masters of the universe. Not anymore.

Two of them stood open, whomever had been in them, long gone by now. But the last one was sealed and has remained that way.

Fallon walked up to the chamber, shining her flashlight on the face of the person inside. As much as she was disgusted by the privileged of the former world, she'd be crazy to deny how attractive this man was.

He had golden brown curls and a face that reminded her of the old paintings of Adonis or Apollo. He was very handsome. She reached for the handle, unsealing the chamber, the door opened with a soft hiss and Fallon took a step back, reaching for the gun in her holster.

Harry gasped, feeling himself come back to consciousness, his body felt heavy. He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand, jerking forward when he realized what had happened and wondering if his mom and sister were still asleep. Had they awakened him?

When he looked up, stepping out of the cryo chamber it wasn't his mother or his sister who greeted him.

The girl was dressed in rags, a pair of goggles sat firmly on her dark hair, which was pulled back in two space bins, tight and perfect, save for the few places little hairs blew easily in the breeze, she had dark eyes, that stared through him. He realized moments later she held a weapon, pointed right at him.

"Who are you?" She demanded. Harry was slightly offended, this was his house. But she did have the gun. He raised his hands.

"I'm Harry....who are you?" He asked. She only scoffed. "What is the year?" He asked, genuinely confused. It was all a head rush.

"It's February 2030." Harry sucked in his breath harshly. Ten years. He'd been asleep for ten fucking years. He cleared his throat, pointing to the two chambers behind him.

"The women....the women who were in these....where are they?" Fallon lowered the gun slightly, the panic in his voice and fear in his eyes calling to her compassion.

"I....I'm sorry Harry....no one was here but you."

The world slows down, a sharp pain riding up his thighs as his knees hit the concrete floor. He can see the girl, her lips moving but no sound, his ears were ringing and his heart was breaking. He didn't save them....he couldn't save them. He buried his face in his hands, sobbing hard.

Fallon wasn't sure what to do. She hated him. She had to. He had obviously been wealthy in the previous life. But now he just looked sad and pathetic.

She knelt down, pulling back when Harry flinched as she touched his shoulder. He looked up at her through glassy eyes. It was the first time she could see them. Beautiful, green, he had really pretty eyes.

"I shouldn't do this....I could get in a lot of trouble but....come with me." She took his hand, pulling him to his feet and towards the exit. He pulled his hand out of hers as they stood at the ladder.

"Where are you trying to take me?" He asked, trying and failing to not sound annoyed and scared.

"You can't stay here." Fallon waved to the empty bunker. No way he would survive.

"Excuse me." He snapped, crossing his arms. Ten years of sleep and he was still a cranky bastard when he woke up. "I have an entire house. I'll be fine." Fallon just stared, studying him for what felt like hours. Finally she stepped aside, pointing up.

"You have the whole house? Fine. Keep it. But I would want to know what I was buying into before I made any decisions." Harry pushed past her. She really annoyed him, her haughtiness and superior attitude. He climbed up the ladder and shielded his eyes as he stepped out into the sun for the first time in ten years.

Fallon climbed out after him. Harry stood frozen, gazing at what used to be his home, now only a shadow of its former self, blown to bits. She watched tears slide down his cheeks.

"You've been asleep for ten years." He turned, a sympathetic and sad look on Fallon's face. "A lot has changed. This is no longer the world you left behind."

#harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fic #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #solo harry #hs fandom #hs imagine #hs fanfic #hs1 #hs2

[daroamine]

falling for you (aha, literally)

 Summary: Their evening was going pretty well. Better than well, actually, if Remus were to describe it. It seemed like Virgil was finally getting comfortable around them again. And then the dumb emo had to go and fall down a gravel hill. How inconsiderate. OH, also, Remus is really gay for Virgil but likes to think he's not.

ao3

Notes:  this fic was something i impulse-wrote at 2am?? so i'm not exactly sure how good it is, and i cannot be bothered to proof read. so i guess you're gonna have to deal with it

warnings: cursing, non-graphic description of blood, non-graphic description of injury, i think one intrusive thought about injury from remus?

----

Remus grinned brightly at Patton, who was cheerfully kicking pebbles beside him. The sides had gone on an outing in the imagination, just for a little relaxing time, and he felt his body just melt into goo as soon as he saw the sunset over the horizon.

Logan and Janus were conversing quietly at the back of the group, and as he turned back to check on them, Logan caught his eye. The nerd's face was flushed a soft pink, like he was pleasantly comfortable. The light from the dimming sky shone off of his glasses like little streams of starlight. Janus looked all-too aware of how pretty the other looked, and he kept glancing over and awkwardly coughing, puffing up his coat collar. Remus scoffed in disgust, but a smirk played at his lips.

Roman turned then, to link hands with Patton, and Remus decided to take off, listening to the moral side's squeals grow distant as he raced further along the path. His feet pounded harshly against the gravel floor, and he let out a mad laugh to the winds. This was a good idea. Trees and benches whizzed past him, becoming a blur. He gave a bird the finger too. For the irony.

Letting out a loud whoop as he reached the top of the huge hill, he held up both hands in a solid victory pose. There was a snicker from beside him, and lo and behold, there sat Virgil himself, cross legged on the hill with his ripped jeans and worn boots and the setting sun lighting him like an angel. Or maybe to Remus, a sexy little demon.

Either way, it was... Admittedly nice to see the little emo so relaxed around the dark sides now. It had been so tense and uncomfortable for so long, but seeing him play around and laugh with him again just... Well, it made him very happy. He slumped down beside the other side for a moment, wriggling into the gravel so that the chalk dust would most definitely leave a butt-shaped imprint on his jeans. Ooh, that'd be so fun! Maybe he could convince Virgil to do that too. Nah, he would never, it's too "embarrassing".

His eyes found Virgil beside him again, and for a scary, disgusting moment, his breath caught in his throat. Virgil was... Pretty. Little freckles framed his sharp nose, and he had dark, purplish eyebags partially covered with pigmented black eyeshadow. Acne was spattered across his cheeks and forehead, and well, he didn't think that would be cute til right now, but there we go. Virgil had a thin little face, bony and angry, and in all ways should be unattractive, and yet- Well, and yet, Remus was sat on this hill at sunset admiring him. His skin was pale, almost frighteningly so, and well, wasn't that just hot as fuck? He knew he was into vampires, but Virgils too? Man, that's a new one.

'No it isn't,' his mind whispered, but he imagined violently stabbing that thought with a spear. Pssh. He didn't like VIRGIL. Liking is GROSS. All Roman's area for sure, and he'd like to keep it that way, thank you. "Hey, Virgey?" he said abruptly, elbowing him in the ribs so hard he almost fell over. The emo scowled up at him from under his fringe, a playful pout toying at his lips. "What do you want?"

And he grinned wickedly then, green eyes lighting up like Christmas had come early. Virgil rose a brow suspiciously. "Race ya, bitch!" And Remus leapt from his seat, sprinting down the hill so hard he thought he might slip and split open his head on the rough floor. He didn't though, and he looked back gleefully at Virgil as he ran, giggling. The emo was about three feet behind him, fast on his feet but clumsy with his long limbs, and they found themselves at an even pace.

"Get here, you little sewer rat!" the growl came from behind him, and Remus cackled, throwing his head back. "You'll never take me alive-!" Just as he finished his sentence, however, he stumbled over a large rock, and almost catapulted to the floor. Virgil was close now.

Remus screamed as Virgil's bony hands grasped at his sweater, and he reached the checkpoint at the last moment: the top of the next hill. The other side wasn't going to slow down. At the last moment, he stepped out of the way, and Virgil launched forward, hands stretched to grasp at nothing, and- Well, then he fell down the hill.

Remus gaped from where he stood, still panting hard. The other side had taken quite a tumble, hitting large, blunt rocks and landing on the concrete of an eating area below. "Shit, Virge-" he muttered, stumbling down after him. His chest stuttered with panic as he neared, only hearing soft mumbling. "Ow, owow, ow, ow-"

Kneeling beside him, he tilted his head to meet Virgil's eyes. "Where ya bruised, Mister Muse? Yknow... Like the band?" There was a little giggle from the bundle of,, boy on the concrete, and it sat up to reveal a dizzy looking emo with a bloodied lip. "M'okay, Rem. I think I jus' hit my face a bit, and um, my knees."

"Your knees?- Oh SHIT, your knees."

Now that Virgil was sat up properly, it was easy to see the bloodied scrapes engraved in his knees and shins. It seemed the fall had made even more tears in his jeans, too.

"You in pain? Like, on a scale of 'owie you poked me' to 'holy fuck, I'm literally gonna die right now', who do i need to call?" Remus rambled, scrunching his nose. Virgil huffed a little laugh, pulling himself up onto one of the seating benches. "It's fine, m'just a little shaky, shut the fuck up." Remus stared at the blood clearly soaking through his jean fabric, seemingly deliberating something, before standing again, having made a decision. "Take off your pants, shorty."

Virgil, to his credit, did look incredibly affronted, but NOT to his credit, he immediately began to unbutton his jeans without thinking twice. His hands were trembling from the shock as he tried to wiggle out of the pants, and he gasped roughly as the fabric scraped his knees. His eyes watered a little, and he bit his already bloody lip.

Remus rolled his eyes. "You are mortally injuring yourself, you dumb bitch. Lemme do it." he whacked the side's hands away, and shimmed the jeans down his thighs, being mindful of the wounds. "You're such a stupid whore, V," he grumbled as he carefully peeled the denim from his scrapes. The other side made a few sounds of protest, but then turned silent, and it was only a matter of time before he began to laugh quietly.

"This is so dumb," Virgil gasped between laughs, breath rasping and shoulders trembling, "I fell down a hill after we, TWO ADULTS, played chase and now you stripped me in the middle of a public recreational spot." "It's the imagination, dumbass, nobody else can get here!" Remus argued as he conjured wipes, but even then he had an amused little grin on his face.

Once Virgil's wounds had been disinfected and carefully wrapped, he slid his jeans back on. By now, it was almost dark, and Virgil sighed quietly from where he sat beside Remus on the bench. "M'so tired now, Rem," he breathed with a laugh, putting his head onto the other side's shoulder.

Remus turned a bright pink, biting his lip. "The others are still coming." he spoke, eyeing the top of the hill, beyond which he could hear Roman's boisterous laughter. Virgil groaned, pressing his face into Remus' neck. "I'on care.." And okay, Virgil must have gotten a concussion because there is no way he would do this if he wasn't completely delirious.

"Righty then, bedtime, Veevee." Remus coughed, hating the twisty stomachy feeling that was going on. He swept the side into a baby hold, being mindful of his injuries, and cuddled him against his chest. It was incredibly easy, as Virgil was like a tiny little twig, and if he was like a tiny little twig, then Remus was a whole-ass forest. "No more walkies. You'd probably, like, die." he spoke, and Virgil just laughed quietly into his shoulder.

Once the others reached the bench as well, Remus was beginning to feel rather embarrassed at the position he had made for them, but there was no turning back, as Virgil's head was securely snuggled against his collar. "Emo fell down the hill." Remus announced as they approached, standing with Virgil in his arms.

Patton gasped, and immediately jogged over to fuss over him, but Remus turned away. "Don't get ya panties in a twist, boys, he's been wrapped and shit already. Let him rest." he grinned, giving them a wink. The moral side rubbed his arms unsurely, but stepped back, looking at the others.

They began to head to the field as darkness fell, planning on watching the stars, and Janus fell into step with Remus.

"You're blushing." was all he said, sounding satisfied as his little snake eye glinted at him. Remus scoffed, knowing what that implied. "You got it all wrong, Snake Lively! And speaking of blushing, what was that shit with Logan, huh?" Janus didn't reply, only turning ahead to watch the path, but he knew for sure he saw a rosy flush on his human cheek.

They reached the field some time after nightfall, and the sky was dark and splotchy like spilled ink.

Roman immediately rushed ahead of them all to conjure little blankets and pillows, and plopped himself down on the largest one, laughing. Patton followed after, then Logan, and Janus looked all-too eager to sit beside him. Remus carefully plopped himself on the end, still with the anxious side in his lap. He hummed a little, looking down at him, but eventually took a rough hand and carded his fingers gently through the side's slightly greasy hair. In response, Virgil's arms tightened around his waist, humming sweetly in his doze, and Remus couldn't hold back a fond grin. What a cute little emo. He tilted his head back to look at the stars, still running his hands through the anxious side's locks.

#sanders sides #thomas sanders #ts #sanders sides fanfic #dukexiety fluff #loceit #dukexiety #blood tw #injury tw #hurt/comfort kinda?? #not proofread #janus thinks logan is really pretty okay #remus thinks virgil is really pretty okay

[possum-rat]

Resident J.D commits a War crime then unalives

Warning: mentions of Explosions, and other stuff Previous Next

"PEOPLE OF L'MANBERGs.And TommyInnit and WilburSoot- once we find them and expel them from our great nation! Yes, yes! Ah... the sun rises, over another beautiful day in our country. The sun rises on another chapter in our nation's history- the next page of will be reading... 'till the end of time. I reckon our nation needs to expand! I reckon we've... we've done our country a great disservice. I reckon we take down the walls- EFFECTIVE IMMEDIATELY! I'm launching a public works project- funded by our meth lab that we run- All citizens of L'Manberg, are REQUIRED, REQUIRED! To help TEAR DOWN the walls of this country. Thus ends... the second presidential speech. Let's get to work. Oh wasn't there another kid? (Massacred version of your name) was it?"

The words aren't the best way to wake up. As (y/n) brushes their hair from their face they groan in annoyance. "Jesus Christ. What the fuck is going-" they begin before clapping their hands to their ears as something begins to play. Somehow.

"If he said help me kill the president

I'd say he needs medicine

Sick of screaming let us in

The wires got the best of him

All that he invested in goes

Straight to hell

Straight to hell

Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa

Straight to hell

Straight to hell

Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa

He told me I should take it in

Listen to every word he's speaking

The wires getting older I can hear the way they're creaking

As their holding him

Well I could see it in his jaw

That all he ever wanted was a job

He tells me to be raw

Admits to me that every little flaw

That never let him sit upon the top"

"Okay, what the hell?" (Y/n) murmurs as they duck into the mineshaft cavern thing. As they reach the cave itself they duck to get through the tiny door that Tommy had provided apparently not taking into consideration the fact that (Y/n) isn't entirely human, and therefore taller than the average height their age.

as they walk deeper into the cave they dart toward a small hole in the cave. Pressing their hand into a small hole beside the one their in they press a small wooden button.

As they pull their hand back leaning against a small section of wall the floor spins revealing a small room. A bunker if you will. Reaching toward a wooden armor stand. Enchanted netherite armor shining slightly in the darkroom.

As (Y/n) begins to pull on the armor. Adjusting the straps mounted beside their ribs they tighten it to what's needed. Then pulling on their gloves they turn toward the portal infront of them. As they enter pulling on their helmet a voice asks "(y/n?)" a small smile spreads upon their face. Upon reaching the nether they type in the chat, whispering to Tommy Wilbur and Technoblade specifically:

<y/n> I'll be back in a few just need to do something important really quick.

Running toward the community Portal (Y/n) feels adrenaline filling their veins. Everything seems to be more serious. Dangerous even. As the portal comes into view (Y/n) slows down muscles aching heart slamming against their chest. They pull out their potion of invisibility. Uncorking the vile they down it in one gulp. As the slight fowl taste, they pull a face then replace the bow with their crossbow which is able to shoot arrows.

The familiar message of waiting appears infront of (Y/n). As they reach the familiar land they had been exiled from they sigh and begin running toward the White House.

"Funny isn't it?" A voice murmers "it's like history repeating itself. Someone entering the White House..." (y/n) feels their shoulders tense up slightly. They murmer below a whisper "But I'm not killing him. Seriously injuring him? Yeah sure. But not killing him." As they reach the garden of the White House they duck into the small kitchen. Pulling off their armor they begin searching. Almost instantly (Y/n) hears the Yelp and tinkle of glass breaking. Jogging toward the sound (Y/n) sees Quackity.

Arm outstretched in an attempt to protect Tubbo who's cowering. Squatting down out of sight (Y/n) types to the two males.

<Y/n>Get out into a different room or meet me at this location. *insert location*

Quackity begins backing up arm still infront of Tubbo as Shlatt roars drunkenly "YEAH YOU BETTER LEAVE." before something incomprehensible. Followed by "Phattest ass.🥴"

as the room is just about empty (Y/n) stands up stretching and yawns loudly.

Shlatt whips toward the sound and freezes. His pupils turning rectangular in shock. He stand their in shock making the whole thing a little awkward before in freezing and shouting "YOU! I EXILED YOU WHY THE HELL ARE YOU HERE?" (Y/n) laughs doubled over before coughing "Bruh. You should have expected this. I'm pretty good at making bad decisions!"

Pulling out the crossbow they continue talking as if nothing going on. "You know? Not a fan of dictatorship. 'Ts never been...what's the word? Uhh for me? I guess. I mean I don't even like democracy but here I am." As shlatt goes silent there's some aggressive typing before (Y/n) says tiredly "Look dude. I'm trying to have a moment here-"

"HA- D'You think you can overpower me? I've called for backup. YOU'LL DIE!" he laughs. (Y/n) sighs before notching an arrow of Wither effect. A special type. Not enough to kill but still enough to leave the victim with about 2 to 1.5 hearts. "Dude. I don't care. I can literally just disappear Never be found again." (Y/n) sighs.

The shouts from down the hall makes (Y/n) smile. As the arrow clicks into place they hear a ferm voice. Sam. "(Y/n) put the crossbow down." He says calmly. (Y/n) smiles simply and hums quietly to themselves

"If he said help me kill the president

I'd say he needs medicine

Sick of screaming let us in

The wires got the best of him

All that he invested in goes"

A tall silhouette covers the light on the ground. A few more footsteps before (Y/n) takes aim at Shlatt's forehead. "Well...I guess this is a temporary goodbye." They pull the notch and the arrow flies. (Y/n) sprints toward the window crashing through pulling an Ender pearl from their inventory flinging it forward.

they squint as the harsh rays of the sun beat down on their face. It didn't help that small shards of glass were embedded in (Y/n) still healing face. Upon reaching Pogtopia they stumble into the cave and laugh. Not the type one would consider completely normal. It's probably the emotional constipation (Y/n's) put themselves through so they don't grow attached to anyone/thing.

Wilbur's worried face pops into view at that moment. "(Y/n)? What the hell did you do?" (Y/n) then calms down slightly before murmuring "Just shot the president with a poisoning arrow. As you do. He won't die, severally injured yes." At that moment Technoblade Thomas and all the other inhabitants of Pogtopia arrive. (Y/n) bows and disappears into Pogtopia.

-------

As Shlatt is surrounded by basically everyone in the world (Y/n) is zoned out. Standing beside Eret and playing with Her cape. The long black fabric the inside the colors of the Bi flag. The small thin layer of strings on the bottom of the cape. As (y/n) fiddles with it they grow ever more anxious as Shlatt grows ever closer to Fundy. (Y/n) suddenly drops the cape sprinting infront of Fundy as Shlatt slams the bottle down. They then return to where they were murmuring "Yeah he's dead." As soon as those words leave their lips, Jschlatt freezes and drops and dies. Rather anti-climatically.

"Wow. Uh. I- Uh what now?" (Y/n) asks as everyone's gaze turns toward they begin fiddling with their hands nervously. (Y/n) begins to fiddle with the glass ripped clothing over their burnt arm. Eret simply leads them out of the small area and walks toward the Podium. He then takes a seat amongst the chairs and gently takes (Y/n's) arm asking quietly "Is this okay? Can I help you?" (Y/n) freezes at the genuine kindness feeling their eyes begin to water. So to avoid any confrontation they pull an invisibility potion out.

--

As everyone begins taking their seats (Y/n) sits beside Eret on the ground and near Fundy. Placing a small clay Fox ring beside Fundy they continue fiddling with Eret's cape. Even as the speeches go around (Y/n) can't help but feel that some things going to go very wrong. Letting go of Eret's cape they silently dart up toward the Podium. Pulling out an Ender Pearl they take aim and launch it.

The feeling of being sucked then dropped overwhelms (Y/n). As the world blurs (Y/n) shakes their head before speed walking toward Wilbur. Following him the two of them duck into a small hallway. (Y/n) ducking to fit. They eventually ask quietly "is the weight of it all finally too heavy?" Wilbur jumps slightly but turns toward them an unreadable smile upon his face.

"Everything is temporary, L'manberg was merely one of those things,” Wilbur states in a calm tone. "You of all people should know. That good people-Good things don't last. They give up on you. So you have to remove things that mean Value." (Y/n) tenses up and begins to tap the wall beside them anxiously. Not realizing that their tapping "don't leave. Not again."

Wilbur smiles sadly and begins to rant. (Y/n) feels their heart beating faster and faster. (Y/n) holds out a hand hesitantly before deciding against it as Wilbur is facing the other way. "What happened to you?" (Y/n) whispers. "What about your son? You're just going to leave him? Wilbur you promised." Wilbur turns and scoffs. "(Y/n) awe. I didn't realize that you thought that i'd actually keep the promise. Things change. PEOPLE change." He clarifies. "You don't get to change Fate. Look, Tell Fundy I'm sorry. Well- Why don't we sing the anthem again. For old time's sake. "

(Y/n) simply stares in shock. Voices of the dead whisper harshly While faint whispy figures float around. "You should have expected this. Nobody sticks around. They all are going to leave you." (Y/n) Faint footsteps grow louder and louder. (Y/n) whispers "Wilbur. Step away from the button. We don't need another J.D Wilbur please." Wilbur turns his eyes wild, toward (Y/n) and says "Philza." (Y/n) falls silent before drifting toward Wilbur. Falling silent (Y/n) fiddles with their protective gloves, mentally arguing with the dead.

A sudden movement and a Click causes Philza to clamp his hands over his ears while Wilbur does the same. (Y/n) didn't notice. However, the literal Earslitting sound did. Panic filling their head they feel as though the world is tilting. Almost as if the world were a snow globe and a small child was shaking it violently. (Y/n) feels their back slam against a wall sending a flash of pain against their spin. Shaking they watching horror as Wilbur says something. Wait. Why can they hear him? They could hear him a second ago?

Philza turns to on of the crows that had followed him and points toward (Y/n). The bird obliges gliding toward them and fluffing up it's feathers catching (Y/n's) Attention. They offer a violently shaking hand toward the bird. It nuzzles it's beak into their hand. (Y/n) takes the invitation to pet the bird.

After who knows how long it removes itself and flies up. (Y/n) frowns slightly wondering why the bird had flown. Glancing up they see Philza. His mouth moves rapidly but no sound comes from his lips. (Y/n) lift their arms feeling exhaustion pulling at their muscles as they do so. Pressing their hands to their ears they blanch. Pulling their hands away to reveal dark crimson standing out against their (S/c).

Flicking their gaze up to Phil. He crouches holding out a hand. (Y/n) takes it skeptically before a faint voice. One that was declared dead a few minutes ago. A simple word. "GLATT."

(y/n) flinches violently causing Philza to glance toward them worriedly. His blond eyebrows furrowed. He then is surrounded by a sphere of black tones of birds lifting the two of them up and toward the group of civilians staring in a mixture of longing and sadness at the wreckage of what was once home.

(Y/n) feels Phil's hand let go of them and they stumble unsteadily before grabbing onto Bad's upper arm. He turns toward them pure white eyes meeting Grey-ish-(E/c). He mouths something but stops concern filling what's visible of his face.

Pulling their hand back they glance at the ground sheepishly before turning and stumbling off.

#l’manberg #pogtopia #pogtopia vs L’manberg. #dadza #techno mcyt #eret

[sp00kworm]

April Rain (Chapter 1)

Pairing: All Might x Female Reader (Liquidification Quirk)

Summary:  “Its fine now.” A soft voice whispered over you. A cape fluttered in the breeze as the trees hurled more blossoms into the air. You wiped at your mouth with shaking fingers before peering upwards at the shadow stood over you. The red and silver of his body suit were unmistakable. Soft blue eyes looked down at you as he smiled with bright teeth, “Why?” He pulled a handkerchief from somewhere in the spandex for you, “Because I am here!” He announced as he wiped the sick from your chin and turned to face the villain. His blue cape slapped again, and you peered at the burns over his shoulders and the bruises blossoming underneath the tatters of his back. The hero of the age, All Might, had come to save you.

A/N: Also posted on AO3! This is my first long fic excursion for BNHA and I hope it lives up to everyones expectations. Chapter 2 is already in the works.

------

The rains in spring were always the biggest problem with restoration. It seemed that Japan was no exception to the rule, and you watched from the marque as the gentle shower eased over the freshly planted new flowers. Cherry blossom season. The pink petals littering the ground were soaked, floating in puddles and clogging the fountains when they chugged into the piping. You sighed at the humidity in the air. It suited your quirk just fine for it to rain, but the clothes covering your body would still get wet. So, you waited, eating your lunch with the other workers as the rain patted against the roof and formed new puddles over the pavements. The fountains chugged away, gushing water and petals still as the park patrons ran for the cover of the greenhouses and trees. It would pass. The showers were light this time of year. You chewed the rice in your mouth as you watched the new flower beds get a good drenching from the rain. It would help their roots settle into the new soil at least. There were positives to almost getting drowned by the weather. The cherry blossoms would need cleaning out of the fountains however, again. Sighing, you set to finishing your lunch, knowing you would be in the fountain patching up the walls and clearing the pipes from mushed up flower petals.

 The rain was gone pretty quickly, leaving the flowers and grass drenched with a sheen of water. The patrons were quick to return to their walks, admiring the wet blossoms as they meandered around the pebble paths. You took a breath as you cordoned off the fountain again, sighing at the wet stone with a grumble. Wetness was always a pain to work with. Peering up, you looked for the sun and looked at the chipped edges of the stone structure, reaching for the bucket of plaster filler, grabbing your tools to start smearing the chips closed and tidying up the old fountain. The park goers steered around your workplace as you hummed and got to work, pushing plaster and cement into places and waiting for it all to dry over. The forecast was clear, and you hoped it stayed as such so you could correctly get to work restoring the fountain. It needed some intricate details re-creating and as well as several washes through its pipes to get rid of algae and bacteria. You smiled as you moved on your feet, crouching as you smeared another sealing layer over a crack in the stone.

 When you’d finished sealing the cracks, you flexed your arms, rolling your sleeves up as you peered over into the murky fountain. The water wasn’t leaking out of the fountain, but the poor thing was hard done to with the years of firing water over its intricate bowls. The water was tinged green and you sighed as you pushed your hands into the water up to your elbows. Your quirk wasn’t fancy but turning your body into liquid water had its own perks. Namely, getting into the pipes to unclog the water flow. Petals patted against your skin as you focused, fingers rippling into liquid, the transformation flowing up to your elbows. With a great amount of focus you rushed them away, searching for the pump system. Your fingers slid into the pipe at the bottom of the fountain before rushing along the rubber swiping at algae and slime as you went. When you reached the end, you linked the watery fingers and pulled backwards, the water chugging and churning as it was pulled with the mass of rubbish, petals and algae. The mess surged up into the stagnant fountain and you sighed with relief as your limbs rushed back to you. You plugged the piping and got up to find your net, holding the pole as you walked along the edge fishing out wrappers, slime, algae and petals from the tinged water. It was slow work, hooking the net down into the water and swiping out great swaths of rubbish, but you hummed as you moved into the fountain, sloshing through the water in your waterproofs to get the last of the mess.

 Slapping the net against the bucket, you watched the last of the slime and rubbish flop out into the stinking water and sighed as you removed your rubber gloves. The water was still nasty, and you grabbed the pump system control to swap the water to flush as you set to work carving the little details back into the decorative outer of the fountain. The little curling leaves would take a lot of your time and concentration. It wouldn’t be easy with the shaky hands you had from liquefying yourself. The little tools shuddered before you caught your breath. You were numerous years into this restorative work now, your qualification wasn’t to be wasted because your quirk took a lot out of you. It was lucky they even allowed you to use them in the first place, but you supposed there was a benefit to it considering the state of this fountain a few hours before, and most of the pieces you were commissioned to work on. You continued to work, waving at a little girl as she came to chatter about what you were doing.

 It was then that the ground rumbled beneath you.

 The water in the fountain shuddered under the great smashes. It was like jumps from a giant. The water flipped up the sides of the stone with another thunderous bang.

“What the fuck?” You peered backwards as the crowds turned, fear in their eyes as the ground shuddered once more. Dust swarmed through the streets as children clutched at their mothers, rubble flying overhead as something smashed at the tarmac. Whatever it was, it was heading towards the swarms of civilians here. You felt your mouth open when a shadow burst from between the tower buildings, blocking the sun as it soared overhead and howled. Two titanic feet slammed into the ground outside the park, sending the pavement flying upwards and water spraying from the ruptured pipes. It shone in the bright sunlight as it turned, body covered in layers of thick metal, fists snapping and rippling as its hand recalibrated. An armour quirk? You didn’t know but the villain’s eyes snapped to the screams of a child before it gave a metallic scream and jumped again, spring loaded legs sending it upwards over the fancy fencing of the park.

 The impact of its giant legs sent grass and mud into the sky, pebbles slamming into the patrons as they ran, their children tucked against their chests. A few people fell with the spray of pebbles, heads slammed with the rocks as they scrambled to their feet again and ran. You stood, staring at the metallic villain as it let out a spray of hot steam. It turned again, fists chugging as it watched the civilians scream.

“I’ll run you down, rats!” It howled between metal jaws, feet curling before it jumped again soaring closer, slamming into the ground behind the sprinting crowd. Most were through the exits, rushing through the gates to escape the sprays of rubble. It launched a fist and watched a wall explode, bricks becoming dust. Your legs wobbled, quirk making them water as you stared at the blood on the monster’s legs. As though it knew you were there, it turned with a rush of hot steam.

“Run rats run!” The villain snapped its jaws together, sharp metal teeth pulled back in a vicious smile, “One rat didn’t run?” its body span on top of its legs as a deep hum sounded inside its metal body, “YOU DIE FIRST!” The spring-loaded legs snapped, and it was racing towards you, clawed fists outstretched as steam fired from its mouth.

 “HAAAA HA HA HA!” A boisterous laugh erupted from your right as your legs finally remembered how to move, sending you sprinting for the path as the villain snarled behind you, still flying towards you. With a gasp you felt your quirk ripple through your entire body, your clothes slipping through your watery form as a shape flew towards you from the right.

 All Might pushed off a building as the villain escaped, heading towards the central park, towards people that could not defend themselves.

“WE SHALL SEE HOW WELL YOU CAN PROTECT THEM, ALL MIGHT!” Steam Engine roared as he propelled himself towards the park, sending pavement and tarmac into the air.

“Go, All Might!” A speed hero rushed behind him, snatching people from the rubble faster than he could see. The hero only nodded before crouching low, thighs clenched before he launched himself into the air, cape fluttering behind him as he soared into the sky, watching dust clouds erupt from the roads with Steam Engines gargantuan weight. Sharp blue eyes watched the villain run, the park in sight as he flew. All Might span in the air before pushing himself from a skyscraper like a spring, arms outstretched as he launched himself like a bullet towards the park. Steam Engine howled his metal laugh and chased the families as the hero drew closer. Yagi clenched his jaw, willing himself to go faster, stretch further, to reach them in time. The villain turned suddenly, howling at someone else. He flipped as he landed over the fence, changing course, leaping towards the body of the park worked as the villain thundered towards her.

 His soles slammed against stone and soil as he snapped his arms forwards, allowing himself enough time to slow down and snatch the woman from danger.

“HAAA HA HA HA!” He roared with laughter at the victory...That was until his fingers slipped through her body, his hair slapping against the watery body.

“Shit!” He cursed as Steam Engine threw a punch. With a quick twist of his hips, he ground his feet into the floor and threw his arms upwards, catching the blow of the engine propelled fist with his back, cursing at the pain that blossomed over his back. It hurt. The fist recoiled on its chain, hand calibrating and streaming steam as it returned to its owner. He stood like a rock over the woman, cape slapping over the backs of his legs as he took a deep breath, willing the pain of the cracked ribs into the back of his mind. The number one hero opened his brilliant eyes to look down at the woman. She was a watery blob under his hulking muscles, shuddering as she reformed.

 A great heave had you vomiting up water and food as you reformed.

 “Its fine now.” A soft voice whispered over you. A cape fluttered in the breeze as the trees hurled more blossoms into the air. You wiped at your mouth with shaking fingers before peering upwards at the shadow stood over you. The red and silver of his body suit were unmistakable. Soft blue eyes looked down at you as he smiled with bright teeth, “Why?” He pulled a handkerchief from somewhere in the spandex for you, “Because I am here!” He announced as he wiped the sick from your chin and turned to face the villain. His blue cape slapped again, and you peered at the burns over his shoulders and the bruises blossoming underneath the tatters of his back.

“Why did you do that? You got hurt! I was...” You felt stupid as a sob made you clutch your mouth, “I was water, he couldn’t touch me!” You sobbed softly as the hero caught a great metal fist between his hands, flexing his arms as he grappled it, squeezing at the super alloy with gritted teeth in his smile.

“I will save whoever I can. I will be the symbol of peace, the ones villains fear!” He barked as his arms crackled with energy, muscles crunching the metal of the fist in his grasp, fingers curling into the material, “Even if it went through you...” His feet churned soil as he pushed against the fist, “You couldn’t hold it long enough to survive it coming back.” All Might turned his head to give you a smile, hair bouncing as his electric blue gaze turned darker.

 Steam Engine howled at the crushing of his hand, the fingers crunching inside of the metal layer over his body. Blood spewed from between the plates of metal as All Might flexed his shoulders, applying more pressure to the fist between his hands. The engines inside screamed before the chain attached began to chug and recoil.

“I’ll bring you to me then, All Might! I won’t let you ignore me for your little date over there!” The villain howled as the chain began rocketing back into his arm.

“That will be your last mistake villain!” He roared back as the chain catapulted him towards the metal body of Steam Engine. All Might’s cape fluttered behind him, streaming as he pulled back his fist and slammed it into Steam Engine’s gut, “You end here!” His second punch came upwards in a spinning rotation, the fingers of his fist crunching under the villain’s chin. The metal cracked, the bone underneath crunching as Steam Engine was sent lurching towards the ground, leg pistons slamming to stop him from falling in a burst of hot steam. All Might rocketed into the sky with the power of the blow, rushing upwards in an amazing feat of speed.

 You were left by the fountain as the villain hissed, snapping his metal covered neck back into place, sharp teeth clenched as blood spilt past his lips and over his shiny chin. Steam curled from his mouth. You again. With shaking legs you stood and dove for the fountain, body disappearing among the water as All Might came crashing back down to earth, a crater forming with the impact, Steam Engine’s arms held up defensively underneath the crushing power of the hero’s legs.

“You won’t break me, All Might!” Steam Engine roared, layers of metal shining as he pushed back against the blond.

“You will bend, villain!” He took a breath as rotated in the air, eyes harsh and teeth clenched, “DETROIT SMASH!” Blue eyes flashed before he slammed his fist into the top of the armoured head in a downwards blow, crunching bone and metal again as Steam Engine fired red hot steam into the crater, blood splattering over his face as the metal over his body creaked. The wind force erupted from the crater blasting air upwards and rocks into the sky. The punches continued to land after that. All Might felt his knuckles crunch and bleed as he cracked open the shoulder plate, yet he smiled, a grit his teeth and slammed home the next fist in the man’s gut. His own blood painted the villain’s bodice as he recoiled, both hands bleeding over the knuckles.

“Like punching the worlds biggest concrete block isn’t it, All Might?” The armour cackled, wet wheezes escaping the villain as his legs shuddered and whirred back to life, easing the villain back upright.

 “Shit.”

 His hands flexed yet the fingers were growing numb. The vibrations of his own punches had shaken his bones hard and the bleeding was bad, drops of blood dripping over the backs of his palms. Yet the villain was done for. He’d felt the bones crunch underneath the metal with each blow. Yagi wiped at his nose, shifting into a side stance, ready to launch himself forwards again as the metal groaned and cracked. Steam poured from the cracks in the metal along with blood.

The wet laughing started again, as red eyes locked on him from within the darkness of the metal, “Even my strongest metal layers…couldn’t stop you.” He wheezed, mouth opening to cough blood over the dirt. The villain swung on his feet, unstable, yet still laughing as he took one step forward, “I should have put your little girl in the engine…Would have failed then.” The fire in his stomach went out as he slumped over to the side, head thumping against the crumbling dirt side of the crater. In a stumbling effort, claws snapped for him yet fell flat in front of his face. The villain looked up at the curling bangs on top of All Might’s head and scoffed.

All Might continued to smile, yet he felt an amount of pity as he looked down at the villain, “You’re going away for a long time, Steam Engine.” He got no reply as the villain slid down the dirt wall.

 He took a deep breath. Inhale. Exhale. Then he pushed his fingers to his cheeks and curled the smile upwards as he leaped from the bottom of the crater. With a rush of cold air, he landed back in the park, speaking into the police communicator on his wrist as a crowd of onlookers dared to peer inside the gates.

“Villain apprehended, Captain.” He flexed his knuckles.

“Roger, All Might. You have our gratitude and thanks, as always.”

There wasn’t a noble response he could come up with. His back burned with the steam and fire and his knuckles stung with the tips of his fingers feeling tingly and numb still.

The civilians roared by the park entrances as he smiled and waved, “Everything is safe! Please remain away while the police arrive!” They cheered still by the gates, waving and chanting his name as he turned to look around.

 The girl was gone. He frowned at the park as he turned in a slow circle. You couldn’t have gotten far. The fight was over quickly. That wasn’t enough time to run for the exit in your state.

 The water in the fountain sloshed.

 All Might’s head tilted as you poked your head above the lip of the fountain, watery form catching the light as your eyes caught sight of him standing, chest out and costume a little battered. He smiled and walked over, his huge strides carrying him faster than you could pull yourself up, back together and out of the water.

“Are you alright, Miss?” He asked, smiling, eyes soft, his hand offered to help you get up and out of the fountain. He realised his mistake about offering you his hand quickly and chuckled to himself, swiping at the back of his neck as you waved a watery hand, closing your eyes to change back into a solid state. The vertigo churned your stomach as you solidified in the water, hair going flat and sticking to you much like your clothes. With a cough, you spat a mouthful of stagnant fountain water out and grumbled, weakly pushing against the stone of the fountain. All Might gently intervened, picking you up from the water and sitting you on the stone edge of the fountain. Everything about him was giant, and you shuddered as his warm hands left you.

He inquired again, “Are you alright?” But your ears were ringing still, head foggy with the events that had transpired. All Might raised his wrist to his mouth again, “Medics are required. Civilians have been injured.”

“Roger.”

 The static rang in your ears as you clutched at your arms, staring at the crater across the park, shivering with the cold of the water sodden clothes covering your body.

All Might stepped into your field of vision, blocking your view of the destruction with his huge body and his sunshine hair and smile, “You’ll catch a cold.” He offered gently, reaching to his shoulders to take the cape from his shoulders, moving slowly, easing it over your shoulders as you shuddered once more.

The fat tears welled in your eyes before you could stop them, “All…Might.” You wheezed around a sob before the hot tears dripped down your face and you leaned forwards into his shoulder, sobbing into the bright red of his outfit, one hand clawed in his shoulder, the other clutching the warm cape around your body.

“Its fine now.” He consoled, warm hands wrapping around your back, holding you into the warmth of his chest, “You’re fine, and the villain is gone.” He shushed you softly as you wailed, his face hot with a small blush as you clutched onto him like a rescued child.

With a shuddering breath you pulled away and smiled, pushing the corners of your own smile up with your fingers before you gulped down a breath of air, “Thank you. You- You saved my life!”

Tears dripped over his fingers as he wiped them away and offered you the edge of his cape, “You’re welcome. I’ll never let you get so involved again.” He vowed, angry with himself for even having to let you witness such a fight. He should have grappled the villain in the air, but he wasn’t fast enough, “The medics will be here soon.” He consoled as you shuddered under the cape.

 Sirens wailed and you looked at the park fence as red and blue flashing lights erupted around. A huge van pulled up as armoured police mobilised, shield raised as they combatted the crowds and streamed towards the crater.

“This woman needs medical attention, where is the medic?” All Might stood, towering over all most everyone as the first aiders rushed forwards, bags at the ready as you shuddered under the man’s cape, “She’s in shock and at risk of hyperthermia.”

The paramedic shook his head, “She simply needs to get warm. Do we have a heat quirk anywhere?!” He shouted as All Might was corralled along away by the police chief. You watched him leave, catching his bright blue eyes as he smiled again, giving a thumbs up as he was taken towards the villain to ensure the arrest went smoothly. The giant’s hair bobbed over the crowd and you found yourself smiling as a hot blanket was brought over with a foil blanket.

“Miss, we need to take the cape off.” The paramedic asked gently.

“No.” You clutched it tighter.

“It needs to be returned to All Might.” He reasoned but you held it tighter as your body shuddered. The man gave in and laid the extra blankets over you as the stretcher was brought over.

 The blond hair of All Might lit up like the sun as you were wheeled away, clutching the blue cape over your legs as the press heaved around you trying to get the latest scoop.

 When All Might turned around from the arrest of Steam Engine, you were already gone, and his cape with you.

 The hospital wasn’t unpleasant. For some reason you were in a private room. You were sure you didn’t deserve this just for shock and a few broken bones, but you were under strict rest orders until the doctor received your scans back and determined the results. They were worried about head trauma. The various x-rays and the MRI you had been subjected to were still in discussion it seemed. Still, they were hopeful, all being well, you would be allowed out within the week. Work colleagues frequented and one showed you the finished fountain with a smile. They’d finished cleaning it up for you and made sure to place a plaque on the edge commemorating the day and what happened during it being restored. Your name was on the bottom. You smiled at the pictures on your phone and the flowers on your bedside table they’d brought. The park was gorgeous with the cherry blossoms littering the floor and dripping from the trees. Rumour has it that All Might had returned to officially reopen the place. That made you happy.

 A knock on your door made you click your phone off.

 “Excuse me, Miss!” A nurse pocked her head in the door and grinned as she pulled out a great box of sunflowers. There was at least twenty-five of the great yellow flowers in a pretty blue box.

“There’s a note attached, and they sent a basket of fruit too!” She cheered, placing the basket of oranges, the fancy expensive pears and cherries on the side by your bed. The flowers were placed on the window ledge. Your face went hot as she giggled and went to fetch you your lunch as well.

“I think maybe you have an admirer!” She teased as she placed your soba in front of you.

With a flush you took the card from your fruit basket and waited for her to leave before you opened it. It was a tacky cat card, a normal ‘get well soon’ card, but the inside had a carefully penned message.

 ‘I hope you are doing well after the events in the park! As a sorry for my failure to stop you being injured, I sent these flowers and a fruit basket. I hear fruit is good for recovery. If you need anything, I have asked the hospital to fulfil it during your stay. You can contact my assistants at the office any time!

 Get well soon!

 All the Best,

 A.M

 P.S: Keep the cape!’

 You looked at the sunflowers again and smiled at them. They truly reflected the man that had saved you. His number was penned at the bottom beside a scratchy name. It was an office number. You sighed and leaned over to take some cherries from the expensive fruit basket. A proper thank you was in order when you were given the all clear to leave. You smiled at the sweetness of the cherries and laughed at the crossings out over the card as you gazed at the sunflowers.

#all might x reader #yagi toshinori x reader #all might #yagi toshinori #bnha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #mha #all might x female reader #yagi toshinori x female reader #all might bnha #bnha all might #pro hero #fanfiction #fanfic #chapter 1 #april rain #my writing #soft #fluff #slow burn #injury description #injuries #violence

[missfay49]

Session 1b - I’d Rather Not

This is a retelling, not a transcription.

Word count: ~2,100

Relationships: platonic Moceit

Warnings (may contain spoilers): space, aliens, alien planet, fighting, cursing, disease, venom, exhaustion, mind-control, blood, hostile wildlife (request more tags if needed)

AO3

Last Chapter Next Chapter

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

“Thanks, Janus.”

Janus’ face twists into a cold focus.  He grabs his pistol and starts firing careful, timed bursts and the other fighters still in control of themselves do the same.  The vracinea makes no sounds when their shots hit, but its latex sap starts pouring from the wounds and its vines become frantic.  They all desperately hope that means it’s dying.

A particularly large electrical blast from the android seems to knock the large Lashunta loose, because they gasp and start running.  The creature gives chase but five of them are shooting it now and before it can attack again its smoking corpse falls with a strange flutter and a crunch.

The human walks up and spits on it before sitting hard on the ground.  

“I am so done with nature,” says the android.  Someone grunts in agreement.

Only a few seconds pass before the smaller Lashunta is shaking their head and backing away from the foliage in disgust.  No one says anything to them.  Janus gives them a questioning look, still catching his breath, but they just blink a few times and join the rough circle of people that has formed to rest.  

“Thank you for not letting me die,” Janus says to no one in particular.  He touches the scratches on his neck lightly, wincing.  

“You’re welcome,” says the small Lashunta.  

“I would not wish that fate on anyone,” adds the android.  “To be eaten by a plant… pitiful.”

Janus looks at each of them in turn, these new companions of his.  The human catches his eye and stares back for a moment, squinting hard at him.  Janus’ lips twitch in an aborted smile and he lets his gaze slide away to the next person.

The large Lashunta and the android are studying the plant together.  The android narrates their findings.  

“The plant was not originally part of the structure’s design.”

“Oh, was it not?  I would never have guessed.”  The human scoffed, leaning theirself back against a fallen tree.  The android continues as if nothing was said.

“This obelisk was a watchtower.  Non-magical.  Sargorssk, would you?”  The android looks at the Vesk and gestures.  They- Sargorssk- seems to know just what to do and draws their sword again to start hacking the remaining vines from the structure.  Once the surface is revealed, the android starts up again.

“There is ancient elven script here. “Warning.  You are approaching Loskialua, monastery of starsong, embassy of the spheres, and Temple of the Twelve.  Messengers and other visitors pay respect to the beyond.”  It says something about purity of the mind.”

“So, we should think pure thoughts?”  asks the large Lashunta.

“Indeed,” the android confirms.  “I suggest you think about soap.”

A few feet away, Janus is struggling with his med kit.  He knows it’s in here, he just can’t think right now through all the pains shouting at him.  He startles when the small Lashunta appears beside him, putting a hand on his shoulder.  Janus makes to remove it, but a warmth blossoms from the touch and travels up and around his neck.  The cuts around his throat and head tingle and disappear.  It lasts only a few seconds, and then the Lashunta gives him a smile and pulls away.  Their hands part and Janus realizes he had been holding onto them throughout.  He stares as they walk back to their travel pack and sit.

“Oh, we’re keeping that one,” he decides.  

~~~

The group keeps moving.  The kaukarikis glower at the survivors walking through their territory.  They drop rocks on the group when they aren’t looking, but always retreat when confronted.  They’re just trying to be irritating.  

They make camp when the sun sets and the android strikes up conversation.

“How did you survive before…?”

“Things were a lot quieter before you came around.  Y’all are bad luck.”  Janus smirks.  “This is the worst mission I’ve ever had here!”

“That may be true,” Sargorssk chuckles.  “Are you sure you want to travel with us?”

“Well…” he draws it out just long enough to make everyone laugh.  When it dies down, his back is to them and he’s setting up his sleeping bag without a word.

The next morning sees another day of travel.  The infernal kaukarikis keep trailing the group, a hostile presence ever at their back.  Janus sidles up to the android.

“What’s your mission, anyway?”  He asks.

“We’re rescuing a kidnapped scientist,” they reply.  The large Lashunta nods.

“How very heroic!”

“What’s yours?”  The android’s eyes look through him.

“Cataloging species and their populations, but I’m more than happy to help rescue a fellow scientist!  It’s hard out here, we’ve got to look out for each other,” says Janus. 

“You’re welcome to stick with us as long as you like,” says the Vesk.

“Yes,” says the android.  “We could use the firepower.”

The day after that they encounter a creature called a ksarik.  A grey-ish-green four-legged creature with a tail and tentacles that twitch back and forth like a cat.  Everyone’s guns are raised when that thing tops the hill.  It disappears into the foliage, leaving only tension behind.

It appears again and again throughout the day, sometimes behind, sometimes to one side or the other.  Sometimes it moves impossible fast.

“Are there now two?” asks the android.

“Maybe so,” says the small Lashunta.  “They hunt in packs.”

On the fourth sighting, it doesn't run away again.  Instead it walks up to them, examining them, quivering with interest.  Probing.  It gurgles.  Janus is taking notes with great interest.

“Domash,” asks the android.  “Can you speak to this thing?”

The small Lashunta, Domash, squints for a moment.

“Yes, actually, it’s a type of fungus.  Don’t know how I forgot that!”  They laugh at theirself, stepping forward just a bit.

“Why here?  What want?  Me friend.”

“Want... Host...”

It launches a projectile a hundred feet across the field straight at the android.

A scream, a metallic screeching, and the android staggers.  A thorn is protruding from their shoulder, the panel cracked.  

The human takes aim and fires, the rest of the group following suit.  All but the large Lashunta.  They look around the field.  There!  Another creature, coming up on their flank.  Thorns fly from it as well, sinking into the Lashunta’s leg.  Then they flee.

“What the fuck?  Where are they going?” asks the human.  Domash looks at them, alarmed. 

“Their shots hit.  They think that all they have to do now is wait us out.  The spores…”  They look at their companion ripping the thorns out of their leg.

“We have to keep moving.”

Several times throughout the day, the creatures return to check on them, to fire more thorns.  No matter how many times they get shot, they flee only to return without a trace of damage.  The android tries to give chase, but they evolved within this jungle.  It’s impossible.

Janus tends to the large Lashunta’s wounds that night at camp.  It’s unclear if he’s helped, but they seem in higher spirits the next morning.

Another day, another several hours of being followed by kaukarikis, hunted by ksariks, and by the end of it Sargorssk and Janus have both been infected as well.  The other human lowers their gun after the fleeing creature and eyes Janus’ wounded arm.

“Oh, no, not our long-time field medic pal…”  they deadpan.  Janus glares in return.

  ~~~

“Y’all know where you’re going, right?”  Janus asks on the fifth day of travel.

The android stops in their tracks.

“What gives?”

A body is laying on the ground ahead.  Janus looks for signs of movement.

“It’s one of the cultists,” the android explains.  “One of the kidnappers.”  The human already has a gun raised.  

The android steps closer, and the cultist sees them and screams.

“Devourer, stop this pain!  I am ready for you!"  They pull out a gun but their arm cannot lift it to shoot.  Zin moves closer to the bulky Lashunta cultist, examining their wounds.  The human joins them, restraining the person.  It hardly seems necessary.

“They will not last much longer.”

“When did this happen?”  Domash approaches to question them.  They can only mumble, barely coherent.

“Time is… what?  I…”

“Should we, I don’t know, help them?”  Janus gestures vaguely.  The human is patting them down for any more weapons.  

“Or,” they pull out an incendiary grenade out of the person’s bag.  “We could kill ‘em.”

The android gently lifts the cultist’s head to place on their lap.  They speak calmly.

“You heard the man, tell us what you know or we’ll kill you.”

“I’m as good as dead already.”  The hostage’s eyes dart around, landing on Domash.  

“Wait, are you a healer?  Can you help me?!  Please!  I’ll tell you anything!”  They gasp.

Domash kneels, beginning to cast a spell of healing over them as the android begins a line of questioning.  The human backs up and mutters to Janus.

“We should just feed ‘em the grenade before those spores bust out.  This is a waste of time, bet.”

Janus briefly appreciates that Pat isn’t listening to this.

An hour later, the android leaves the cultist’s side.

“Here’s what we know.  She is from the Cult of the Devourer.  There’s no reliable information about the cult on the database.  Her leader is a man named Tommen.  The scientist was with them, but the group left her behind when she was infected by the ksariks.  There are a dozen more members guarding the scientist.”

“Are we gonna heal her just to have to lug around a prisoner?”  The human asks.

“We don’t have to take her with us,” says Sargorssk.

“Then why is Domash wasting its magic- hey!”  The human grunts as the android grabs them.

“They’re back.  There are more now.”

~~~

Pistols and laser fire explode over the clearing.  Janus ducks behind the large Lashunta, patting them on the back.  

“Go get ‘em, champ!”

“Hey, yeah,” they don’t dare take their eyes off the targets.  “That’s inspiring and all, but maybe you could actually do something?”

“Ah, yes.”  Janus pulls out his pistol and fires two shots, each one missing wide.  The Lashunta blinks.

“Never mind.”

The fight ends when Sargorssk throws a grenade at a ksarik, causing the last hostile fungus to erupt and douse everyone nearby with spongy viscera.  The large Lashunta scrubs their face and throws a piece on the ground, stomping it into the dirt.  Domash helps the android knock a panel back into place and the rest of them stand there panting, covered in goo.

“It’s in my hair.”  Janus mutters.  Somewhere behind them, the cultist groans.

~~~

Cleaning themselves up a few minutes later, Domash slaps Janus on the back and smiles.

“Well, you lived this long, maybe it’s time we made formal introductions?”

“Oh, thank goodness.”  Janus leans toward it.  “I waited so long I thought I’d missed my chance.  I’m Patton Nufunder.  You can call me Pat-iyo.” 

“Like the furniture?”

“Never heard that one before.”  Janus quips.

“I’m just teasing.  Domash-eyin.  Pleasure to meet you.”

“I’m Sargorssk-iye Vint.”  The Vesk walks up to him showing far too many teeth.  

“I am called Zin-eya,” says the android.  Right behind her the large Lashunta waves.

“I’m Veritae-ya Vyon!”

There’s a silence, followed by everyone looking over to their human companion.  The one that’s been with them all along.  They sense the eyes on them and stop polishing their weapon to look up.

“Don’t refer to me.”

“Okay, then.”

“Just do me a favor, eh?”  The human asks him.  “Don’t die.  Fair?”

“Fair.”  Janus nods.  Sargorssk pulls him aside.

“The point is, Pat, we’re gonna be in danger for a while.  Not sure you want to stay with us.”

Janus mentally pokes the sleeping Patton in their mind.  He doesn’t stir.  To be honest, I’m not sure either, but right now this body is sick, probably got a couple infections, and traveling alone like this is somehow still more deadly than sticking with you lot.

“Don’t worry about me, Sarg.  I‘ll be fine.”  Janus shrugs him off.

“Well, then, welcome aboard!  Maybe you’ll actually get to see our ship at some point.”

A scratchy signal coming out of Zin’s head interrupts them.  She’s playing a live message from someone.

“I’ve made it across t-- ravine.  What --- ---- -- with these monkeys?  There’s dead monkeys all ova’ the place.  Why are they tryna kill me?”

“They started it,” she replies in a neutral tone.

Last Chapter Next Chapter

#starfinder #patton #patton nufunder #janus #janus 358 #sanders sides #aliens #space #fighting #blood #injuries #cursing #disease #venom #cultists #mind control #missFay #my writing #a series of mistakes

[harryandmolly]

Complicit // 5

summary: Shawn is under more pressure than he’s ever known. He craves release and comfort, the simplicity of sex. He gets more than he bargained for.

warnings: language, NSFW (my permanent tag for this series), fraying at the edges

WC: 7.3k

---------

The dialing sound Niall’s phone makes is the British one. He tries to feel comforted by it. It reminds him of calling his nan. He could use some comfort, that’s why he’s calling Niall. 

It rings twice more. Shawn’s very sure he’s about to get his voicemail which he doesn’t even think Niall checks and he doesn’t blame him because Shawn mostly texts him anyway, but he really wanted to kind of talk this out and--

“Hey, mate,” Niall greets. It sounds like he’s outside, probably in London. He hears traffic and distant car horns.

“Heyyyy,” Shawn begins casually, pressing his fingers through his hair and striding out to the balcony of his house even though he’s completely alone, “What’s up, man?”

“I’m over in London for a couple meetings and a friend’s wedding. Headin’ out to me local. What’s up?”

Shawn sighs. He squints one eye at the horizon, then the other. “I just did something… really stupid.”

Niall chuckles. His favorite start to any story. “How stupid?”

“Pretty… fucking stupid,” Shawn groans, closing both his eyes, “I just got back from Vegas.”

“I know! Everyone’s buzzin’ about iHeart Summer. Heard you killed it, mate, congratulations! Good craic?”

“Yeah, yeah, it was great,” Shawn mumbles distractedly, “But I brought Penny.”

“Oh,” Niall chirps, clearly expecting him to admit something much worse, “That’s fine, lad, I’ve flown Karina’r out places before. ‘S not a big deal.”

Shawn nods impatiently, “No, no, I know, it’s not that. We just… god, we had the most amazing night. It was… honestly, I really think it was the best sex I’ve ever had. And then I did something completely insane.”

Niall’s brow furrows. He keeps one eye up on the crosswalk signal. “Don’t tell me ya fookin’ married ‘er.”

“I… I bought her a necklace. A really, really expensive, insane necklace. Frank Sinatra gave it to Ava Gardner in like the 1950s. I had it delivered to her.”

Niall guffaws. His cornflower blue eyes dance as he cackles, stepping into the street, unbothered by the eyes he draws. “You’re kidding me.”

“I’m not,” Shawn croaks, slumping a shoulder against the sliding door, angling his eyes down, “I don’t know what the fuck I was thinking. I got carried away. We just… that night… and then the festival, I mean, shit, I’ve never played a show like that before. I’ve never had a night like that onstage. I thought I had and then I played that show and it’s like… god, Ni, she got me somewhere. I don’t even know where. 

“So I got back after the show like, buzzing. We were out all night celebrating after. I got back at like 5 AM and I called the guy that helped me pick out those earrings for my mom for Christmas and he said he had this necklace and Sinatra fucking designed it and, dude, she loves Sinatra, like loves him, and I just snapped and bought it. Put the fucking deposit on my Amex and called La Splendeur to arrange the delivery.”

Niall’s still laughing. “Wow.”

“I’m such an asshole,” Shawn mumbles, letting a short chuckle break through, “I mean, what the hell is she going to think? She’s going to think I’m fucking obsessed with her.”

“It kinda sounds like you are,” Niall prods, shoving his free hand in his pocket as he strides down the busy street.

“I know I am, but I don’t need her knowing that!” Shawn gripes.

“Listen, girls like her get fancy gifts all the time. She’s used to it, mate. It probably won’t faze her.”

That definitely doesn’t make Shawn feel better. If he’s going to be an obsessed asshole, he at least wants to be the only one in her life.

“Or worse, she’ll think I’m just throwing money at her because that’s all she’s worth to me.”

Shawn realizes with a swoop of his gut that that’s his true fear. The idea that Penny thinks he just wants to buy her makes him want to lose his lunch over the railing. He winces and rubs a hand over his eyes. 

“Mate, you’re overreacting. When you’re with her, do you treat her like a hooker?”

Shawn blinks. “No, of course not.”

“No. Because you’re a good lad. She’s spent enough time around you to know that. She’s not going to think you’re trying to reduce her to a piece of jewelry. She’s probably flattered. I’m sure she loves it. It’s a thoughtful gift, too, if she loves Sinatra. Hey, I love Sinatra and you’ve never bought me a priceless necklace that he designed.”

Shawn snorts. “When you fuck me like she can, I’ll get you his whole collection of pinky rings.”

Niall beams. “That’s the spirit.”

+

“I haven’t even touched it yet,” Penny hisses into the phone, circling the red box sitting dead center on her bed like a snake charmer eyeing a viper.

“Well, you should. It’s been in a box since the 90s. It deserves a little skin,” Silver replies.

Penny purses her lips. “I… cannot believe he did this.”

“Well, not to sound… anyway, it’s hardly the most expensive gift you’ve ever received.”

Penny’s mind jumps to the Aston Martin in her garage and she bites her lip. “No, I know… but… I mean, it’s so soon.”

Silver bobs her head and runs her finger along the strand of pearls at her throat, they themselves a gift from a client long ago.

“It’s the buzz, baby. Everyone’s saying his name after that performance of his. He probably just wanted to show you some gratitude. Several thousand dollars worth.”

Penny perches beside the open Cartier box, still a safe distance. She reaches out with a fingertip, timidly stroking the largest stone at the center, where it would hang beautifully between her collarbones if she weren’t too chicken to try it on.

She swallows. “He can’t… know how much this means to me. He can’t possibly, I’ve only mentioned it in passing.”

She’s referring to her lifelong love affair with Frank Sinatra. The people who know her well, and there are few, know Old Blue Eyes has been the apple of Penny’s eye since she was a kid. So to own something that was once his, that he helped to design, something he made for someone so important to him… 

“I don’t know if I can keep this,” Penny breathes.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Silver nearly snaps, “This isn’t a sweater you can return. This is practically a historical treasure. And it’s yours, he wanted you to have it. And… Pen, it was Frank’s.”

“That’s the other thing!” Penny squeaks, springing up from the bed to launch into another pacing session, “I’m sure he has no idea of the implications of this necklace. He doesn’t know the story. Ava Gardner was the love of Frank’s life. He loved her madly until the day he died. Everything they went through together, everything they put each other through… it’s the stuff of Hollywood legend. It’s the kind of love you wish on your worst enemy.”

Silver quiets. Penny is flying off the handle. The only way to calm her down is to keep head head low.

“You’re right, I’m sure he doesn’t know. Please don’t panic, Penny m’love, it’s a nice gift. Take it as that. And for the love of god, insure it.”

Penny slumps into the vintage 40s armchair in the corner of her sun-strewn bedroom, eyeing the necklace again.

“Peter’s going to die when I tell him.”

Silver smiles. “I’ve got to dash, petal, give me a call tomorrow when you have time to run through our corporation paperwork.”

Penny signs off and drops her phone into the seat beside her. Slowly, she stands, heading for the full length mirror. She focuses on her neck, her unblemished throat, her stately collarbones. She runs her fingertips against her skin. She reaches down and lifts her tank top, tossing it aside. Her breasts are soft and full, more than a generous handful crowned by perky brown nipples. She cups them, massaging her warm skin, enjoying the weight of them in her hands. Then she goes for her pajama shorts, the little blue ones with the fluffy white clouds on them. She pushes them down until they drop around her ankles.

She stands naked as the day she was born in her bedroom. She turns, admiring the swell of her ass in her reflection, the glorious mapping of stretchmarks around her hips and thighs, brushing a hand over the birthmark on her lower back. She takes a deep breath and steps to the bed, reaching for the red box.

The necklace is so heavy. She knew it would be heavy, studded by 159 diamonds (she counted), but it’s even heavier than she imagined. Maybe it’s heavier to her because of its significance. 

The clasp is fiddly. She very gently eases it open, lifts her gaze to the mirror and guides it around her throat, only releasing her hold when she’s very sure the clasp is secure. Her eyes are closed. She adjusts its position until she can feel with her fingers that the largest diamond is dead center in the little valley between her collarbones. She can’t look until it’s perfect.

And oh god, it’s so perfect.

One of Penny’s hands covers her mouth, the other rests against her stomach as she sucks in a gasping breath. Her eyes well. Her bronzed cheeks flush. Slowly, she pries her fingers away from her mouth and takes a closer look.

It’s magnificent. It’s the most beautiful thing she’s ever seen. And it’s hers.

He got it for her.

Penny wets her lips and closes her eyes, overwhelmed again. He can’t possibly know it, but he just gave her her most prized possession. How does she thank him? More importantly, how do they proceed from here?

The latter question seems too much to answer so soon. So she focuses on the former.

Chewing on her lip, staring at the largest center stone like it will show her the secrets of the universe, Penny thinks. After a few moments, her eyes flit to a shelf holding a bulky black DSLR camera with a folded tripod stashed underneath.

An hour later, she’s loading a set of photos onto a thumb drive and planting a pouty berry red kiss onto a piece of cardstock. Both get folded into a padded envelope addressed to a Mr. Shawn Mendes with no return address.

+

Standing over his suitcase with a hand on one hip, Shawn scrolls down to “Orthodontist” in his contacts and hits “new message,” feeling heat rise in his cheeks.

He hasn’t been home from Vegas for 48 hours yet. He’s unpacking his suitcase only to repack for the next festival, Wet & Wild Summer Fest in Atlanta. He’s calmed down a bit about the necklace fiasco. Niall helped assuage his concerns, as did a little time and space. Not much, but a little. He finds he starts to get twitchy after the 24 hour mark away from her when he doesn’t have another booking lined up.

It should be concerning. It should have him stepping back to reevaluate his priorities. It should mean his dick is fucking exhausted.

But it doesn’t.

Hey Penny, it’s Shawn. Idk if Colette gave you my number. I wanted to see if you’re around before I leave for Atlanta on Wednesday. So… tomorrow I guess lol

He hits send before he can think too hard about it. Thinking too hard is always his downfall. He hopes the message comes off as charming and casual. He shoves his phone in his pocket, on vibrate of course, so he doesn’t stare at it and pick it apart.

After-overthinking. Also one of his downfalls.

Five minutes later, the buzz in his back pocket feels like it gives him a mini heart attack.

Orthodontist: Hi! I wish I could. I’m not available tomorrow. 

Orthodontist: P.S. Received your gift. It took my breath away. I’m sending you a little something to show my gratitude.

Shawn drops the phone on top of the pyramid of sock rolls he’s loading into the suitcase and presses his face into his hands with a groan.

So much to overanalyze.

Admittedly, he had half deluded himself into imagining he was her only client now, that she’d cleared the bench for him. But that was naive. Of course he’s not her only client. Not only is she likely one of if not the most sought after women at La Splendeur, she has an established career with probably plenty of regulars. He’s just been lucky so far that she’s been so available to him.

He shouldn’t be reading into this as a “stay away from me you expensive necklace-buying freak” thing. Right?

Right.

Plus, she’s sending him something. What the fuck could she be sending him? His mind floods with possibilities, from the filthy to the ridiculous. 

But, really, the biggest thing is the pang he feels at the idea of going at least another week without seeing her. He would like to imagine their last encounter, as… un-fucking-believable as it was, would keep him on a high long enough to get him through it, but he’s too hooked on her already. He seems to need a fix more frequently than even last week, and even more desperately.

He really should think about slowing this down. Maybe stopping altogether.

… but god, what is she sending him?

+

She’s got Frank’s Come Fly with Me album spinning on the record player and her favorite Fleur du Mal skin-toned slip on as she brushes some Guerlain highlight on her cheeks, her eyes straying to the stunning necklace against her throat so often that she’s almost running late from the distraction.

Penny is never late.

She huffs at herself and stands back to assess. She catches Pamela’s big brown eyes in the mirror and grins, her shimmery nude-painted lips spreading.

“Stop looking at mommy like that,” she teasingly begs. At the sound of Penny’s voice, Pamela’s tail thumps against the ground. Penny laughs and shakes her head, her flossy curls bobbing around her upper arms as she reaches for her dress, a floaty sand-colored number by Alice + Olivia. In the right light, she looks almost bare. It doesn’t matter. Everyone’s going to be looking at the necklace.

With a final intoxicating spritz of Tom Ford Costa Azzurra, Penny steps outside to greet Gus.

Jamie got asked to a community center dance by a boy. Ty is beside himself, Gus likes to think he’s handling it well. Penny lives for the details.

Christian Becker is already waiting for her under the overhang of the Beverly Hilton. He doesn’t have to -- she wouldn’t have a problem following a young intern in to find him. He’s entirely too famous and important to be standing outside an event like this waiting for her. But he always likes to, so she lets him.

Christian is a thrice-divorced father of four. He’s the editor-in-chief of Vertigo Magazine, a once upstart music blog turned highly respected online publication (Lady Gaga was last month’s cover feature.) He’s also one of Penny’s oldest clients.

Gus rolls down the window as Penny gathers her clutch to step out.

“Evening, Gus,” croons Christian, smooth as ever as he leans into the passenger side with his wire transfer confirmation on his phone. Gus barely checks it. Christian is “good people,” as Gus likes to say.

“Mr. Becker, you’re looking well. How are the kids?”

“Getting bigger every day. How’re Jamie and Ty?” He holds open the door and takes Penny’s hand. Gus doesn’t bother to answer, smiling warmly as he watches Penny emerge from the back of the car. Christian releases a low whistle, looking her up and down as she steps out into the evening.

“Miss Penny, you’ve done it again.”

She tilts her chin coyly, narrowing her eyes. “And what is it I’ve done this time, Mr. Becker?”

“You got more beautiful. We’ve talked about this, Penny. You gotta stop that.”

She laughs, a laugh close to her very own. She shakes her head. “You sound like a grandpa.”

Christian mimes a dagger being driven into his chest, wincing. “I’m only 54.”

Penny nods placatingly, “And your Winnie is almost 16.”

“God, don’t remind me. C’mon, honey, let’s head in. Have a good night, Gus. Don’t worry. I’ll have her home by 10!”

Gus chuckles and pulls away back into the line of exotic cars leaving the event. Christian, head to toe in Dior, holds his flawlessly-tailored arm out for Penny to hold. She takes it and strides forward, matching his springy steps.

They look well together. Christian doesn’t look any older than 45, save for the salt and pepper hair. He’s extremely tall, fit and built, rugged, the kind of man who you can’t quite imagine without his facial hair. 

Christian’s smart. He’d have to be, obviously, to turn a blog screaming amongst the din of millions into a revered and oft-referenced bible of music. But he’s smart about the industry, too. He knows how it looks to walk into an event with a 21-year-old in a mini dress whose only contribution to a conversation is extolling the virtues of Ed Sheeran’s last album.

So instead, Christian brings Penny along as a friend. Truly, that’s all it is, all it has been since after their first night together. He said he liked her too much to continue sleeping with her, muttering something about how “everything my dick touches turns to shit.” Their dates are not sexual, they’re business. Penny can work a room. She can charm anyone into an exclusive interview, into drinks to discuss a potential venture. She’s his most powerful secret weapon and one of his favorite conversationalists. 

Tonight is Vertigo Magazine’s annual “Summer Lovin’” party where guests, exclusively musicians and industry types, gather to mix and mingle. Christian likes to brag that for the last eight years, a hit collab has come out of initial conversations had at “Summer Lovin’.” The bragging works -- it’s one of the hottest tickets in town.

The ballroom is packed. Real palm trees surround them, along with bamboo and waiters serving cocktails in exotic fruit. The theme is Blue Hawaii. Under the Dior, Christian’s in a custom designed Hawaiian shirt printed with Vertigo Magazine’s logo. The DJ is playing Iz.

Penny fixes him with a look. Christian barks a laugh.

“Too much?”

“I just got back from Vegas and I can confidently say, yes. This is too much.”

Christian grins in that boyish, easily forgivable way. “Just like I like it, then.”

He loops an arm around her waist as he surveys the garish decorations proudly, planting his lips on her temple as she swipes a frothy coconut beverage off a passing waiter’s tray.

Christian glances down at her and hums. “Speaking of too much, you’re the one dripping in diamonds.”

Penny only barely tries to hide her bashful smile. She lifts a delicate hand to press against the heavy stones. “Oh, you noticed?”

“Hard not to. A client gift?” he guesses, narrowing his eyes.

“Nobody you know,” Penny lies smoothly.

Christian laughs again, squeezing her hip. He ducks his head to speak into her ear when he gets distracted, waylaid by a passing VIP that Penny doesn’t recognize but probably should. Christian releases her temporarily to schmooze with a crooked smile and she turns to glance around the room.

She bobs her head to an oddly chosen Hawaiian folk song and twiddles the biodegradable straw in her drink. There are famous faces everywhere -- the Little Mix girls, Luke Bryan, Pitbull, Dave Grohl. Penny chuckles to herself. Only Christian could get away with throwing a party like this and still having the who’s who of the industry at his beck and call.

She sweeps a curl off her shoulder, unwilling to let anything get in the way of her necklace’s glimmer. As she does, she feels a gaze. It’s not exactly unusual for her. But there’s heat in it, enough to make her look back.

Head to toe in deep blue, shirt unbuttoned to mid chest, a perfectly placed curl hanging over his forehead is Shawn bloody Mendes staring straight at her, watching Christian Becker’s fingers absently trace over the ridges of the necklace against her collarbone.

+

Penny swings her head back around so fast her long hair swirls, catching in the scruff of Christian’s beard. She plays it off, giggling and swiping at it as she rests a hand against his upper back and tries not to feel like she’s on fucking fire.

This has happened before, she reminds her rioting body, You have been in this position. 

Of course she has. LA is a small, small town. There are only so many people that can afford her. Of course she’s been at public events and seen former or even current clients. It does not have to be an international incident.

But it fucking feels like one. Her heart is sprinting. Her head feels light enough to pop off her body to float around with the paper lanterns on the ceiling. Her hand on her chest is the only thing steadying her until Christian’s bulky, muscled arm pulls her back in gently by her waist.

Like the professional she is, she snaps in. Her smile is dazzling. Her quippy comment is light but witty, charming. The hand she places on Christian’s upper abdomen when they all laugh is soft but firm. She’s in control.

+

Shawn flies into a possessive, unadulterated rage for about 15 seconds before cold reality hits hard.

Somehow even before she turned around, he knew she’d be wearing it. She’s wearing his fucking necklace while another man’s hands are all fucking over her. His stomach is in knots. His neck burns hot, he bets even his exposed chest is flushed. He wants to scream, maybe even go full caveman and drag her away from Christian Becker, of all fucking people. He even likes Christian Becker. But Penny, he…

So not the path to go down right now.

Thankfully, the red mist doesn’t last long. He’s immediately disgusted with himself for even letting his mind start to go there. But he still can’t stop staring at her.

She didn’t take the Blue Hawaii theme as literally as he did. She’s radiant in a floaty dress that looks like a beach and he looks like a dopey extra on a movie set. He wasn’t even planning on coming to this party -- he’d much rather have spent the night with her in some hotel he doesn’t care about the name of getting his stupid mind blown. But Andrew convinced him, told him Tiffany had a suit ready, even had blue suede boots. 

So Shawn decided to play dress up and be friendly with industry types even if the only thing he cares about right now, other than Penny screwing his brains out, is the album he’s already written that’s being released in the fall. He’s not in the headspace to think about a collab right now. But that’s what he pays Andrew for.

It didn’t even cross his mind that she could be here. It did not even occur to him. But he knew it was her when he saw her even between throngs of people in dim lighting. It’s her bare shoulder blades. He adores them. He’d know them anywhere.

Once she’s turned back around, her poker face back on, letting Becker pet her and show her off, he slugs back a sip of his rum cocktail. He forces himself to turn around because he will certainly blow their cover if he keeps staring at the call girl he’s obsessed with from across the room.

Now that the rage is gone, it’s replaced by a hollow, whiny feeling. Turns out despite Niall’s sage advice and what Shawn thought were enough self reminders that this is something he could simply walk away from, he aches.

He’s being ridiculous. The truth is, he barely knows Penny. He doesn’t even know her last name. And it’s not like he thought he was her only client. He’s not insane. But… he feels a little lame beside Christian Becker. The man is a legend. He’s done blow with at least 75% of Shawn’s heroes. The stories he can probably tell make Shawn want to pout. 

But he can’t pout. He can’t even talk to her. He has to just deal with this and try to find a way to be a man about it. The best way is probably to ignore her as much as he can. It’s hard when she feels like a magnet in the center of a room, sparkling brighter than the disco ball even without the necklace.

God, the necklace. He had finally gotten to a place of feeling kind of ok about that outrageous gesture and now he can worry about it all over again, he can feel like a desperate young fool trying to get the attention of a sophisticated woman in a garish and heavy-handed way. He frustrates himself nearly to tears.

And then he sees her, in front of him this time, tooling with Christian around the bar. Before he can steel himself, he realizes she’s already watching him. He’s… stunned. He almost picks his hand up and, like, waves like an idiot but then she’s leaning into Christian as he says something.

He looks down. His glass is empty. He’ll wait to go to the bar.

+

It’s all she can do to keep from planting her feet, locking her knees and screaming “NO!” like an impassioned toddler when Christian suggests a trip to the bar. Shawn has been stationed there for 45 minutes with a couple members of his team and, inexplicably, Brad Paisley. She hopes there isn’t anything fruitful coming from that conversation. But soon she’ll be close enough to listen for herself.

She doesn’t usually drink so much on the job, for obvious reasons. But how she could be expected to get through this fiasco without booze is beyond her, so she keeps the pina coladas coming. Christian doesn’t seem to mind. Her strong desire to focus on anything other than Shawn and his sad, but somehow searingly hot eyes, his bare chest, his fucking blue suede shoes is compelling enough to have her at the top of her game. She’s wheeling and dealing beside him better than even he’s ever seen.

She talks a little louder, a little faster until she has slowly managed to get Christian far enough from the bar that she can breathe again. She still feels Shawn’s eyes every few moments, like he’s checking to make sure she’s still there, she’s still with her date, she’s still wearing the necklace.

As the night wears on, the eye contact grows… reckless. They’re both drinking. They’re both loosening up. They’re both curious. So they’ve made it a sport. They lock eyes occasionally, but never for very long, just long enough to get their pulses racing. Shawn will glance at her, she’ll tuck hair behind her neck, exposing the spot below her ear that gets her gasping his name. She’ll spare him a glance, and he’ll wet his lips before he takes a sip of his drink through a smirk.

It’s childish and irresponsible and it has Penny a little wet.

Finally, Christian takes the stage to thank his guests. Penny stands in the crowd, a beacon of grace despite the gallon of fucking Malibu rum in her system. She’s literally shoulder to shoulder with people like Questlove and Demi Lovato, but the only thing she can think about is where he might be.

And then, without knowing, she knows. She can feel him. He’s standing right behind her. She can smell his fucking cologne. She can feel the testosterone-fueled heat tumbling off him. She can even feel the smirk on his face -- it’s enough to make her want to turn around and force him to his knees. 

The worst part for Penny is knowing he’d go willingly.

She huffs an aggravated sigh and senses him chuckle, unable to hear it over Christian’s corny speech. She folds her hands over her front, nudging at her Cartier ring with her fingers. She tries not to imagine Shawn slowly looking her up and down but her goddamn skin is crawling with it like it’s ready to drag her back into his arms without her permission.

She grits her teeth and fights fire with fire.

Penny reaches back and drags her curls over one shoulder, exposing the shoulder blades he likes to teethe at, the clasp of the necklace he bought her, and the sensual nape of her neck all at once. She turns her face, lips parted, profile backlit by the stage lights. She doesn’t have to see him to feel him go stiff all over.

Checkmate.

+

The night is winding down. Shawn can already feel his hangover starting in his fucking teeth. He didn’t watch Penny leave with Christian. The game they were playing seemed a lot less fun when he realized it had to end without them in the same hotel room. He stayed behind after his team left to catch up with a couple producer friends he hasn’t seen, and to prolong heading home alone to wonder if Penny touches Christian the way she touches him.

He shakes his big, heavy head and reaches for his phone. He wants to text her. What the fuck he would say is of no consequence -- he’s not actually going to do it. He just wants to think about the option.

He doesn’t have to think about it, though. Because she’s there, standing by the pickup line, slouched against a column, probably waiting for Christian.

He’s a fucking masochist, but she already knows that. He strides up casually and stands on the other side of the column.

“Nice night?” he grunts, just hoping his voice doesn’t break.

Penny doesn’t look terribly surprised to see him. Shawn bristles at his own predictability.

“Lovely.”

“You look… really beautiful,” he murmurs, his eyes holding on hers instead of scraping over her heavenly body, “The necklace looks amazing on you.”

Her eyes show a flash of guilt. She purses her lips and ducks her head. “Thank you. It’s…” She trails off, wetting her lips, “This means more than you know, Shawn.”

The same tingle he got when the jeweler sent him the photo sparks up again from his toes, the one that told him the necklace belongs to Penny. He lets it overwhelm him enough to look over at her, his smile tipping into goofy territory.

“I’m glad you like it.”

Penny runs a finger along the side of her neck. Shawn follows it, swallows roughly. He looks back down.

“Where’s… um…” He can’t bring himself to say his name.

“He left. His kids were waiting up for him.”

Shawn’s head lifts so fast his neck cracks a little. “He’s… you’re not…”

Penny’s nose twitches. She keeps her eyes forward on the cars. “Christian hires me to attend events with him. He enjoys my company. I act as a good buffer. We don’t fuck.”

She spares him one glance. His jaw has dropped.

“You’re… going home?” Shawn chokes.

“I’m going home.” Penny’s voice is smooth and warm like her naked skin.

Shawn takes a deep breath. He reaches behind the column and gently wraps his fingers around her wrist.

“Don’t.”

The air in Penny’s lungs leaves in a rush. She takes a moment to gather herself before glancing at him. She swallows and lifts her chin, ready to give him his marching orders.

“Stay here. Do the wire transfer. Gus will be here any minute. Show it to him. I’m getting a room. I’ll text you the number.”

He doesn’t have time to comment or argue (not that he would) before she turns on a heel and walks inside. If Shawn’s not totally delusional, she’s hurrying a little.

+

Gus is comfortable enough around Shawn to openly chuckle at his eagerness now. Another on the long list of indicators that Shawn spends too much time with Penny. Instead of bristling, he grins crookedly.

“Does she drive everyone this crazy?” Shawn asks, tucking his phone back into his pocket after Gus nods at the wire transfer confirmation.

Gus, behind the wheel, bobs his head with a mysterious twinkle in his eye.

“Yeah. But maybe you more than others.”

Shawn licks his lips and nods as Gus pulls away, still laughing. After two seconds of staring at his shoes, Shawn bolts for the elevator.

The party has cleared out, mostly. The only people left to see him bouncing on his toes waiting for the lift are the ones busy breaking down the event. When the elevator doors slide open, Shawn lurches inside. 

As it rises, Shawn grips either end of the mirrored doors, unwilling to look his reflection in the eye. He hears his own breathing, feels the way his heart riots in his aching chest. He closes his eyes. He has to calm down. He’s too riled up for her already, has been all night. The way she couldn’t stop looking at him, the way he couldn’t stop thinking about her -- about how she feels and tastes and sounds when she’s so close to coming that he doesn’t need the verbal warning she sometimes gives, he knows it like he knows his own name.

The elevator dings and he’s burrowed far enough into the thought of her that it actually takes him a second to scramble upright and get himself out before the doors shut. 

He knocks quietly, like he’s aware that the walls of this hotel held a lot of influential people only hours earlier. Tonight, he has to trust those walls with his secrets the way he trusts Penny. He fights not to scrape a hand through his hair -- Anna did it just so, so that the curl dropping over his forehead lands just right.

She opens the door barefoot, dressed but looking and feeling naked. In better light he can see the way the color of the dress nearly matches her skin tone beneath it. He grunts gently, letting his head fall back.

“Jesus, sometimes I just…” His voice wanders. He shakes his head and lifts it back upright to look at her.

“You fucking overwhelm me,” he mutters. His eyes land on the necklace again.

Still standing in the doorway, he wets his lips and shifts on his feet.

“Touch me,” she rasps, her chest filling as she inhales, tilting her chin up slightly as she invites him to her neck.

Shawn pulls himself into the room, letting the door shut behind them. He cups the side of her neck with one hand and explores with the calloused fingertips of the other, enjoying the way it sits on her, the way the largest stone in the center fits perfectly between the notches of her collarbone in the spot he likes to bite when she lets him.

“It’s perfect,” he whispers, his hand falling away. His smile is wistful.

You’re perfect.

His jaw clamps shut. He looks at her, waiting. Her eyes are hot with anticipation, but she’s not anticipating him -- it’s like she herself doesn’t know what she’s going to do to him, with him when she lets herself move. He revels in her electric indecision, willing and ready.

She throws herself into his body with a weak whine, one kind of like the sounds he’s prone to making around her. He catches her easily, holding her up so her toes skim the ground as she plunders his mouth. She’s still not quiet once she pins herself to him. She moans and whimpers and sighs like she’s never had him before. He’s too stunned to react beyond letting her do whatever the fuck she wants while he holds her.

Soon, she grows restless, unsatisfied by the limitations of standing in the center of the room, wrapping around him like a python. She needs more. Whatever it is, he’ll make sure she has it.

Penny nudges him backwards and wriggles until the tips of her toes meet the ground. She steers him to the bed, shoving him when they get close enough. He collapses into it with a yelping groan, but she swallows it so fast he’s gasping for breath in her mouth like he needs the oxygen in her lungs.

Does he know? Can he possibly know her so deeply already? The panic has been static in her mind for a couple of days since the necklace arrived.

Logically, she understands it -- she’s mentioned Sinatra, has played him a few times in Shawn’s presence. He probably just saw Frank’s name attached to the piece and thought she’d like it. He’s thoughtful. That’s all.

It doesn’t have to be deeper, but it feels so much fucking deeper. Everything did tonight. She’s never been so distracted on a date, even in similar circumstances where she was dodging one client while on the arm of another.

She’s deluded, she’s drunk on the night and his suit and his lips and his eyes and her fucking necklace but it felt… so big. Frank and Ava big. 

It’s just a necklace, it’s just a necklace, she chants in her head, squeezing her eyes shut as she shamelessly ruts against his pelvis, her dress riding up to her waist, the silk of her panties soaked through already. It’s no wonder why -- as she’s been tangling with her own mind, she’s been riding him hard.

She breaks off from his swollen mouth away to his jaw and he gasps an inhale so loud she thinks she was suffocating him. But he doesn’t let her go. He only locks his heavy arms around her tighter, one anchored to her ass, the other stretched between her shoulder blades that he loves so much.

“Fuck, Penny, I’m--”

She knows what he’s going to say. He’s beyond hard. He might even be as close as she is. He walked in the door under five minutes ago and she’s already heading for an orgasm like a train off its tracks.

She doesn’t fucking care. She’s not stopping now.

“No,” she hisses, “Just like this. Keep fucking me just like this.”

His breath stops in his throat. His eyes, glazed and dark, snap up to hers.

It’s just a necklace, it’sjustanecklace--

God, she’s going to fucking come. His cock is so hard against her clit even through their clothes. Her whole body pulses with it. She comes so much better, harder with something inside to clench down on but her body doesn’t care now.

“Penny.”

It’s not a whisper or a murmur, it’s just a breath and he says it like it’s his last one.

It’s not just a necklace. It wasn’t just a necklace to Ava. It wasn’t just a necklace to Frank.

Penny comes jerking, hips spasming, thighs clenched around him. It’s short and sizzling hot and she chants his name right through it until she sinks her teeth into his shoulder and he comes too, silent like she’s never seen him, his face going bright red as his voice fails him and his wet mouth drops open in a scream without sound.

It takes him longer to come down than her. As he trembles beneath her, she noses at his earring, the little hoop in his left lobe, peppering it with kisses, tasting and licking the salt from his sweat dripping down from his sideburns.

He’s quiet beneath her like he’s not sure what to say. She has no issue with this -- she doesn’t have much to say either. His hand, the one on her back, traces the distance between her shoulder blades with his fingers like he’s trying to measure without looking.

Slowly, like it’s difficult to physically separate from him, she lifts her head. Despite the circumstances, his hair is still pretty intact. It makes her smile and tug at the forehead curl with a smirk.

“You like it?” Shawn whispers, his voice fucked and broken.

Was he loud while she was on him? She doesn’t know. She couldn’t hear anything over her own frantic thoughts, until he said her name. She’s not even sure he said it. Maybe she just watched his lips form around it and her vivid imagination did the rest.

“Yeah,” she coos, “It’s got me all shook up.”

Shawn snorts appreciatively and lets his hand wander up her back, under her hair to play with the clasp of her necklace.

Penny closes her eyes. She doesn’t want to keep thinking about it right now. About what it means, about what it could mean, about what it meant for the lovers for whom it was made 70 years ago. 

She lets him cradle her in his arms and tip her off him, rolling her onto her back. He ducks his face into her neck, fluttering kisses, a varying pattern of barely-there brushes and firm, wet smacks along her necklace, like he plans to kiss her once for each one of the 159 diamonds in the settings.

Penny relaxes into the bed, closing her eyes and massaging his scalp with both hands like she knows he likes. She’s got him purring like a kitten for her in under 20 seconds.

Through her welcome haze, she feels his hand trail up her arm, reaching for the strap of her dress, then the other. She wriggles free of the sticky, clingy material as he drags it off her, the clinking of the zipper teeth loud in a room only soundtracked by their breathing, which is picking up pace again. He kisses each of her puckered nipples through her satin slip, then pushes that away too, followed by her drenched panties.

He sits back on his knees to stare down at her. She can see his cock starting to twitch under the fabric again. She lifts her arms over her head and sighs loud.

Shawn shivers. He shakes his head and wets his lips to speak.

“Fuck Ava Gardner. Sinatra designed that necklace for you.”

Before he can see the shocked tears in her eyes, Shawn spreads her legs, ducks his head and buries his face between them.

+

Shawn is awoken in the afternoon the next day by his doorbell. He rolls out of bed and checks the app on his phone to peek at the doorbell camera. He quietly prays to whatever’s listening that it’s not a teenage girl. He doesn’t have the energy.

It appears to be a delivery. He pulls a shirt over his head and stumbles to the door, signing and accepting the padded envelope.

On a piece of off-white cardstock is a red lip print that makes his pulse pound in his ears. He dumps the envelope onto the coffee table. Only a thumbdrive falls out.

He races to his laptop, throwing himself onto the bed as it boots up. He tries to jam the thumbdrive in upside down, winces and flips it over.

The drive has encryption software installed and asks him to create a password. After a few flutters of his tired eyes and a heaved sigh, he types: Sinatra.

The folder opens to tiny thumbnails, about 30 of them, and Shawn’s chest shudders hard before he can even get a close look.

She’s bare except for the necklace. She’s perched at the end of her bed, lying on top of it, on her side, sitting up, standing by the window, facing him, turned away. He gets so overwhelmed by all the images he stops himself and focuses on the first one, lets himself digest it.

She’s sitting on the end of the bed (and his heart skips a beat just looking at it, knowing it’s where she puts herself to sleep at night) with her legs crossed delicately at the ankle like the first time he met her. Her posture is perfect and elegant but not at all forced -- it’s just how she sits. She has a hand lifted to her chest, acknowledging the necklace, and her face is turned, her eyes down. He stares at the photo for minutes on end and can’t remember why he ever regretted buying the necklace, not for a second.

----------

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[ajanefantasy]

Book Love part 5 - Brothers (Brothers Book 3)

Brothers was the fifth novel in the fantasy world of Dahrè, and the conclusion to the Brother’s Trilogy. As I was writing Gin, I knew that his book wouldn’t be able to conclude the story of the brothers and so what originally started out, my original intention to write a short story for each brother turned into a bit of an epic tale. More and more the brothers revealed, their families revealed, the world revealed, each book taking on a life of its own. Book 3 was no different considering it came close to 200,000 words.

With this book, I had to find a way to bring Rum and Gin back together as one force instead of rushing about on their own. That was was a big challenge with this book. Getting them to stop blaming each other for their issues and see each other for who they had become, to be able to trust each other. They needed to stop fighting so they could gain the vengeance needed against those responsible for the murder of their parents. Plus a few adventures on the way where often times interesting secrets were revealed.

-- Fun Fact: Well maybe not so fun. This third book was originally titled Vengeance. But I had a thought, well it’s actually about the brothers and so titled it thusly. I often wonder if I should have kept Vengeance because I’m afraid people might get the wrong idea about this book.

With that said, I introduce:

[Image ID: Image of three, three mast ships sailing in the middle of the sea, the sun setting, two ships sail in one direction and the third ship sailing towards the other two as if to attack, with the word Brothers written across it]

Vengeance would be theirs. With their treasures by their sides, nothing could stop the brothers from their Blood Right. Except themselves. Rum and Gin must get past their differences if they are to gain their rightful vengeance and destroy those responsible for the murder of their parents. Book Three of the Brothers Trilogy Story contains strong language and explicit sex. 192,000 words

Amazon / Smashwords / Kobo / Apple  / BN

A preview of Brothers can be found under the cut.

Gin stood rooted to the deck as he watched his twin leap across the distance separating Treasure Hunter and the boat known as Graceful. Rum landed in a crouch upon the railing, hazel eyes drilling into him.

“What do ye do here, Rum?” He had never quite seen that look in his brother’s eyes.

Rum continued staring at Gin, knowing it to be him despite the change in hair color from blond to dark brown, he still had their mother’s blue eyes. He would know his brother anywhere, even had he changed eye color. Temper aroused, his Lyndian brogue was thick, his U’s dipping and his R’s rolling, as he growled, “Hide all you want, brother mine, ‘twill not stop me from finding you and thrashing you well.”

For reasons he knew not, Gin took a step back, his hand going to his hair. Surely he was not hiding. “Excuse me?”

“Think you ‘tis acceptable to cease our connection with nae warning? To leave me dangling in such a fashion?” Rum launched himself at Gin, tackling him.

Gin rolled with Rum trying to gain the top position, but Rum fought back and overpowered him, forcing him onto his back. Gin struggled, refusing to lose, and felt his own anger begin to rise. He hated that Rum—fragile Rum, delicate Rum, scared Rum—could win in this instance. As the older brother, he, Gin Py, should always beat his little brother.

“Ye bastard, married ye were, I needed not knowing what went on ‘twixt ye and him.” Gin continued struggling and managed to roll Rum over. “Why would I wish to know yer lustful activities?”

“Then you need not crawl about my head while I fuck him! Nearly did I die and never would you have known. Wonder I do if you would have cared.” Rum forced Gin onto his back once more before pulling back his fist and striking him.

The brothers’ eyes went wide, both too surprised to react for a moment—it had been years since either had struck the other. With the shock wearing off, the pain hit Gin.

“Fuck!” Gin’s hand flew to his jaw. “Ye hit me!”

“Aye! ‘Tis something you deserved from me.” Rum went to hit his brother again, but Gin blocked him.

Gin holding Rum’s fist, lunged up and elbowed his brother in the jaw, knocking Rum off of him. Sitting up, he shook his head, trying to dispose of the stars circling his vision. He expected pain from the elbow thrown, but none came. Instead Rum looked to be the one suffering from the elbow, just as he had suffered Rum’s fist.

“How?”

“The High Keeper of all Keepers, removed she did Perta’s curse nigh a fortnight past.” Rum crouched, readying to spring, not done with the fight.

“She said naught to me when last I saw her.” Why that hurt, he knew not, other than the van Wyrn had shown a preference for his brother. But then his brother’s words sunk in. “What mean ye, ye almost died?” He looked for Suede Boots and found that he had boarded Treasure Hunter. Rum’s husband stood at the railing. “Ye were supposed to protect him!”

“Both horribly hungover Rum and I were that morning next with nae memories of the night previous.” Suede crossed his arms over his chest, doing what he could to keep from the fight. He did not want his husband injured, but ‘twas always best not to try to separate brothers fighting. Besides, Gin deserved all Rum could throw at him. “Even had I remembered, doubt I do I would have seen the spell that harmed my husband for ‘twas hidden within the cobbles of the street outside yer townhouse. Not even the van Wyrn saw it.”

“And what were ye doing going about…”

“You think so little of me.” Rum sprung, tackling his brother once more. “I am nae longer that lad, I am not fragile!”

Knowing that he no longer felt the pain upon striking Rum, Gin did not hold back, allowing all of his resentment to flow through him, and started swinging his fists as if this were any other fight and not his brother.

© A. Jane

Book Love:  Part 1  Part 2  Part 3  Part 4  Part 5  Part 6  Part 7  Part 8  Part 9

#© A. Jane #A. Jane #Book Love #book promotion #my writing #Brothers Trilogy #Brothers Book 3 #Brothers #Rum and Gin #pirates #magic #fantasy romance #story snippet

[dammitadolfnomorecake]

🏰⚔️🐲👑👑👑 DMODT 55 - decided this would be the full draft

Luca fought the separation, his son wailing miserably as Eren left. Armin and Hanji left to soothe his son as Eren hurried through the castle to the keep. With repeated explosions, most of the doors had been ripped from their hinges, the space nothing at all like the busting and busy hub he remembered. Everywhere around him was smouldering ruins, including the stables that looked as if they'd taken a direct hit, while people rushed to take care of small spot fires. The small castle well wasn't enough. They were fighting a losing battle and exhausting themselves in the process. Anger filled the omega as he shifted, violent storm clouds gathering to match his mood. All of this was so fucking pointless that it disgusted every fibre of his being. Flapping his wings, rain began to fall as thunder boomed, soldiers shrieking as he took to the sky above them. Things were even worse from the air. Mitras hadn't fared well. Dragons had raised a fair chuck of the city to the ground. This only spurred on his anger as he roared. Hanji may have been right, the battlefield may have been the worse place possible as his mind began to see every single red cloak as the enemy, not just people forced into service by their horrible queen. If they could devastate Eldia, then he could devastate them back. Dipping and weaving on the wind, he roared breath of storm along the enemy lines, the pelting rains and ripping winds making it impossible for the enemy to gain the upper ground as they were forced to dive for cover. Queen Dina had picked the wrong dragon to fuck with. Eren following the chain of destruction right back to the port, driving as much of the enemy from his lands as possible. A single dragon could sway the course of battle, Marley might have three, yet he highly doubted those dragons wanted to be there, or that they chose to become instruments of war. High above the port, he eyed the battleships along the coast. Hanji's intel had been correct. Each harpoon and long distance gun was mounted on a wooden platform, with a layer of what seemed to be of steel on top the top. The wood would absorb a great deal of the shock, but it was also the weakest part of the structure. If the platforms integrity was compromised, the recoil would more than likely rip the thick bolts holding the unit together from their housings. Swooping over the ships, they fired in his direction as the battle dragons took notice of his current appearance. He didn't wish to hurt fellow dragons, but if he could cripple them enough for them to be "useless" they wouldn't be able to continue to destroy Eldia. Taking a deep breath, he rained fire down on the ships, the rain falling around them was no match for his breath that heated the metal, and set the world ablaze. As the naval officers rushed to take cover, he pulled back, going back over the ships in a second deadly wave. It was while he had his back turned that the first battle dragon thought to make its move, strong claws tearing into his back as the two of them "collided" midair. The shock was enough to knock him down momentarily, but not enough to knock him from the sky completely. Twisting, he roared as his back was torn open, his wing narrowly missing the snapping jaws of the battle dragon. Catching the beasts giant eyes, his heart hardened. There was nothing left inside this once great beast. No spark of life. Just empty black pain. Marley had stripped everything that made this dragon who they were from them. Killing them was now the kinder option. Unleashing a breath of fire, the dragon roared under the assault, releasing him and howling in pain as it body twisted. With its face and wings on fire, it fell hard to crash between two ships, managing to capsize one in the massive wave that its body made. It brought him no pleasure to turn his breath against another dragon, and he'd never though he would. With the dragon gone, he turned back to the ships, the ones suffering the effects of his breath were covered with people abandoning ship. Good. Let them. If they chose to be cowards in order to survive, then that was the smart choice to make. Raising himself back up over the battle, Eren roared, praying that Mikasa and Erwin could hear him, or at least see him. He prayed his presence would give them strength to last that bit longer as he turned his attention to the rest of the naval fleet, a fresh wave sitting a few hundred metres out to sea. They were his first targets. Again with a breath of fire, he covered the ships. Most of the personal was below deck. He wasn't a water dragon, or an ice dragon, so he wasn't as competent as they were with underwater magic, leaving him unable to go for the ship's massive propellers. All he could do was leave them smouldering wrecks waiting for rescue, and leave Marley to restrategise before launching a fresh wave of ships. Heading back to the coast, in the time he'd been gone, the ship's that were still able to had reloaded, harpoons fired towards his body with alarming speed and accuracy. Using the magic of his storm, he sent lightening hurtling down to the cannons and guns. He needed to land. He needed to find Erwin and Zeke, and get them both back to the safety of the castle as soon as possible. He'd used a fair share of magic, and exhaustion was hitting far too soon. He had to trust Mikasa and her squad would live, his sister the bravest warrior he'd ever met. Setting his eyes to the battle, he mistakenly turned his back to ships, thinking his breath had taken care of the imminent threat. Hearing a whizzing noise, he turned just in time for a harpoon to rip through his wing and side, the chain was broken, but the force of them impact sent him falling from the sky and onto the beach below. His body shifting back to human form just as he landed, driving the wind from his lungs as his shoulders hit the ground first. Confused and dazed he blinked up at the sun. The world suddenly so silent that terror filled him. With a rush, everything came back to him. The stench of the blood on the beach. The sound of the screaming. The clashing metal of swords and bangs from rifles. The pain... god... the pain. With ginger fingers, his hand went to his right side. Blood gushing from the wound there as his magic tried to heal what it could. Coughing sadly, he couldn't move in his current condition... and he was fucking terrified that this was it for him. That he was about to die having accomplished nothing but ruin for his country. He was so fucking scared. Each cough hurt his body, causing him to twitch and spasm. Tears ran from his eyes as he continued to stare up at the sun. Armin was right. He'd needed to rest... "Eren!" Dazed, Eren rolled his head limply to the direction the voice had come from. The figure above him blocking out the sun as they all but glowed red. It was pretty, like a dragon... a smile coming to his lips. Dropping to his knees beside him, without the blinding light of the sun, or the shadows hiding his face, Zeke came into view. The alpha wearing a rich red cloak with looked to be scales woven into it. Gently the man took his face in his hands "Eren?" "Z-Zeke?" Coughing, Eren tried to gather enough moisture in his mouth to speak "Eren, you're ok. You're going to be ok. Do you understand?" "Z-Zeke?" "I'm here. I'm here, omega" Pressing one hand to his bleeding side, Zeke swore "How bad...?" "You'll be ok. Where were you?! I've been so worried..." Zeke was a terrible liar... worry written all over his face as he tried to stem the bleeding "Porco... Queen Dina..." Zeke's expression turned first to surprise then anger as it came together for the alpha "My mother did this" Eren nodded as he coughed, whimpering in pain. He didn't think he'd find Zeke so soon. Behind Zeke, a shadow appeared, Eren's eyes widened as he tried to warn the alpha. "You're not the man I thought you were" Standing behind Zeke, Yelena placed her foot on the man's back as he tore her sword from where it impaled the alpha. Zeke's eyes were wide as his hands went to the bleeding wound in his chest. Neither the alpha nor Eren could believe that Yelena had been the one to run their sword through Zeke. The incident had barely happened when soldiers were upon Yelena, forcing her to turn away before she could savour her victory "Zeke!" Slumping over him, Zeke coughed warm, wet blood across Eren's borrows clothes, Eren pushing the alpha up enough that Zeke fell to rest with his head upon Eren's chest, with his body up against the omega's like they were two lovers laying in bed. No. This wasn't supposed to be happening. Moving his hand, he summoned up his magic, trying to heal the alpha. Grabbing his hand, Zeke rasped out "Don't" "I need to heal you..." "She's good... she's severed my spinal cord. I can't feel my legs" A wound that severe... it was a wonder Zeke was still able to talk. Lowering his hand, Zeke held his over Eren's, pressing them both to his swell "Tell me, is the baby ok?" God. He couldn't... he couldn't tell Zeke the truth "Yes. They're just fine... Historia said they were protected by my dragon" "That's good... so good... I'm sorry I couldn't be the alpha you needed" The sincerity of Zeke's words had Eren sobbing "No. You tried... you're going to be a great dad..." "We both know that's not true. I wasn't a good man" "Zeke, please. Please, you can't die" He didn't love Zeke... but he appreciated him. He appreciated the way he'd started to try. The way he'd never hurt him or forced him into bed. The way he held his hair back when he was sick, or held him close when he was scared on the ship "That you'd shed a tear for me, proves you're going to be a better mother than mine ever was" "No... Zeke, please. You have to stay awake. You have to meet this baby..." "That you're both ok... I couldn't ask for anything more... I need... need to tell you" Zeke dissolved into coughs as Eren tried to pull the alpha closer to him. There was so much blood... Zeke's breathing was horrific to hear. The wet gasps as the alpha clung to life "The sword... the sword on my... you need to take it... Obsydin's mate... made the sword" The omega had no idea what that meant... he couldn't even find the words to ask. Coughing at his own pain, Zeke's fingertips dug into Eren's belly, the alpha letting out a choked sob "Eren... I'm scared... I'm scared of what comes next" "Shhh. You don't need to be scared... you're going to be ok. You're going to be ok, and this baby is going to be ok" "I don't... I'm sorry for how I treated you... I'm... so sorry... I loved you... the best I could" "No. Zeke. No. It's ok..." "Thank you, Eren... I know it wasn't a real marriage... but for it was the greatest dream... you and our baby..." Zeke's choked breathing hitched four or five times as he tried to get a breath down, the alpha letting out one last soft breath... "Zeke?!" Shaking Zeke, he got no reply. No. No. No... "Zeke! No. Please... please... you have to wake up. Please... please... don't leave me here..." Holding Zeke tight, Eren sobbed against him. His magic flaring out of control as his world narrowed down to the two of them. Zeke wasn't the best alpha. He wasn't the greatest and in most cases he was a downright arsehole, but he'd tried for the baby... the baby he thought to be his... It wasn't fair. Zeke was trying to be a better person. He was growing and learning... Drawn by his magic, a second if the three battle dragons landed to Eren's right. The large yellow beast, roaring over him, the animal oozing anger and bloodlust. Laying Zeke down, the omega closed his half open eyes, pressing a kiss to the alpha's forehead. They were still on the battlefield, the battle dragon pulling him out of his headspace "Eren?!" Jumping over him, Erwin charged recklessly towards the dragon "Erwin, get back!" "Let me handle this!" "Not on your own..." Fuck... Pushing himself up, it felt like his entire side was on fire. The wounds deep enough that they'd probably scar, even with his magic slowly stitching the torn muscle and skin back into place. Flapping it's wings, and raising onto its back legs the dragon let out a fiery breath, Erwin dodging to the side "Eren, what can I do to stop it?!" "They've lost their minds! Marley has control of them!" Running towards the water, the alpha was drawing its attention away from Eren "So I should kill it?!" He hated it. He hated that there was no other option. Wrapping an arm around his waist, Eren nodded, barely on his feet "Beneath the wings or the throat, just beneath the jaw!" "I don't think so!" Crashing into Erwin, Porco had his blade drawn. Erwin's attention now split between his two opponents. Eyeing the man who's fault all of this happened, Eren's anger surged again, his fingers cracking as sparks shot out like lightening "Eren?!" "Porco is mine! I owe him for the excellent accomodation" Laughing, Porco pointed his sword towards him "I see you escaped" "I see you're unfortunately still alive. They always say cockroaches would survive the end of the world" "You wound me. What can a half dead monster like you accomplish?" "You're about to find out" Porco charged, Eren dropped to his knee as he placed his good hand upon the ground. Vines rushing from his hand, to ensnare Porco's legs, tripping the alpha "What was that?" "Pieck, now!" Yelling out for Pieck, a shot rang out, hitting Eren in his left shoulder. The omega yelling out as he yanked his back. It wasn't like the vines were going anywhere "Eren?!" "I'm ok, Erwin!" He wasn't ok. He definitely wasn't ok... but what else could he do? Erwin was fighting a dragon, the least he could do was take care of two humans. Abandoning his bleeding side, Eren placed both hands down, the vines around Porco surging into the man's body, impaling him and forcing him to release his sword. Now for Pieck. She'd had time to reload... Only, when her second shot rang out, it was Erwin who was struck. Fucking Marley. He was so done. Snarling, his eyes turned black, Eren raising his hand towards where the shot had come from, shooting razor sharp winds in Pieck's direction. Hidden upon a rise, the sandbags in front of the small woman were obliterated before her body was torn to shreds. He scream sounded like the sweetest of music to his ears, as the world turned red. Raising his busted left arm towards the yellow dragon, the beast roared in challenge, Eren's winds diverting its fiery breath "Sorry, Erwin but this one's mine" Breathing in, Eren summoned up his storm breath, his hand dropped as he unleashed it on the yellow dragon, the beast clearly not expecting a dragon's breath from a human, it footing growing unstable as lightening shot through its body, sending it crashing sideways. Erwin was quick to lunge for its exposed side, driving his sword through the softer scales near the wing and into the heart of the beast, its howl of pain snuffed out in an instant. Collapsing on the spot, Eren couldn't hold himself up any longer. Any extra magic he'd drawn out with his anger, gone. His body leaden, as he gasped for breath. Yelena was missing, and Erwin didn't know about Zeke's death... holding his own side, Erwin jogged over to him, blood spilling over the alpha's hand. Kneeling beside him, Erwin pulled him against him "What are you doing here?" "Zeke's dead... Yelena killed him" "Shit. Alright. We need to get you out of here... where the hell were you?" "Castle dungeons... Yelena... need to watch out for Yelena" "Can you move?" "Give me a moment" "Eren, we don't have a moment..." "Then go. I'll be ok" "I can't just leave you" "I'm not leaving Zeke here... he's... still my husband" "Eren..." "Just... leave me next to him. I can protect myself... you're wounded..." "I'll be fine. She nicked the side" It was more than a nick. Erwin was still bleeding, but his magic wouldn't heal the alpha. He was too weak... "Go. Bring back reinforcements... I'm sure Mikasa saw me..." "I..." "Erwin, just help me to Zeke. I won't move..." Erwin growled, before lifting him. It hurt so fucking much, Eren biting through his lip an attempt not to cry out in pain. Moving him to Zeke's side, Erwin rolled Zeke half over him "I'll be right back. Stay there and don't move" He wasn't going anywhere, and Zeke's body was now acting as a shield. Brushing his hair back from his face, Erwin's expression softened "It's good to have you back" "It's good to be back... Just don't tell Armin I got hurt... he's never going to let me hear the end of it" Erwin winked, both of them finding the action strange. Coughing lightly, the alpha nodded "Your secrets safe with me. Now stay down" * Erwin had only just left when screeching filled the air, the beach still covered with soldiers fighting as the third battle dragon returned. With its size and power, the dragon could have easily left another trail of destruction back to the castle. A battle ship was back up and running by the sound of it, and the battle was shifting back in Marley's favour. Where the fuck was Erwin... shit was about to get real all over again, and this plan now seemed completely stupid and terrible. Word hadn't spread that Zeke was dead, and as he held his husband, Eren wished the alpha was alive to see this war end... all the warmth of the man was already gone, all Eren had was the memory now. Fading in and out, Eren wasn't doing great. He could feel the baby moving, but to him it felt kind of slow and sluggish. His head hurt something fierce, and a growing migraine was building behind his eyes. For some unknown reason, despite being a human pincushion, Porco was yelling for Pieck and Yelena, the alpha only killing himself faster, though Eren had thought him dead already. He'd hoped he was dead... The alpha had caused him to be separated from his precious son. With his hand flat against the ground, his magic wouldn't flare. He couldn't draw the vines in tighter to end the alpha's life... if he could have laughed, he would have. For all his talks of peace, he'd killed today. He'd killed and he'd enjoyed it. What kind of a person did that make him? Historia probably wouldn't wish to tell him now he'd killed dragons. He'd sworn to Draecia that he wouldn't be like Obsydin, yet now he really was a killer... not that he hadn't killed before. Was this his karma for his actions? Watching the green dragon loop around, the great beast let lose a torrent of flame along the beach, no discriminating between friend or foe. The smell of burning flesh causing the omega to vomit, while the victims screams echoed in his ears. Scrunching his eyes closed, Eren concentrated on his breathing... he needed magic. He needed to bring the dragon down. His storm was still overhead, the rain spitting a miserable drizzle intermittently... but if he didn't have the magic to finish Porco, he definitely didn't have the magic to bring down a dragon... With shifting winds, the dragon above him swooped down, Zeke's body torn back by its claws, leaving him horribly exposed. Zeke slipping through his fingers as his body was thrown aside. Opening his eyes again, the green battle dragon walking over him to place its front two feet either side of his shoulders, before roaring in his face. Glaring back at the beast, his own snarl wasn't nearly as impressive. Raising one large foot, Eren thought he was completely fucked... "Get the fuck away from him!" Oh... now he was definitely hallucinating. It was no surprise that in his final moments Levi came to mind. Rearing up, the dragon turned his attention to fake Levi... Tears welled in his eyes at the sight of his mate. Levi's hair was longer, his appearance rougher... but he was just as beautiful as he'd ever been. In his hands, the alpha wielded Obsydin's sword confidently "You don't touch him with your filthy hands" It even sounded like Levi. Of course it did, it was all in his mind... "Eren, stay where you are! I'll deal with this bitch!" Atop the green dragon, Yelena laughed. Trust her to ruin his final moments for him "Just stay there Eren. I've killed your husband, now I'll kill your mate" Charging at each other, Levi's moves were nearly too fast for Eren's eyes to track. A human shouldn't stand a chance against a crazed dragon, but Levi was holding his own. The man was snarling, his nails still black, but the air of madness was gone from around him. "Eren!" Grabbed from under the armpits, Eren was dragged backwards from Levi and Yelena's fight by Erwin, the alpha pulling him far enough back that he no longer faced being trampled. Crouched behind him, Erwin's face was right up against his ear "Is that... Levi?" "You see him too?" "He came back..." Eren blinked trying to clear the tears from his eyes. Was... was that actually Levi? But how?! And why?! "I've sent word of Zeke's death through the forces, but we've taken heavy casualties. How are you? Can you move?" He couldn't feel most of his body due to exhaustion except his shoulder and his side, those hurt like a bitch. Groaning, he shook his head, he couldn't even feel his baby... the baby... his breath hitching in fear "No... I can't... I can't feel my baby..." Placing his hand on Eren's stomach, Erwin rubbed softly. His instincts deciding that he needed to growl, still, whatever he did, the baby kicked softly. Taking both his hands, Erwin placed them on his stomach, the baby kicking again, Eren gasping with relief "Did you feel that?" "Y-yes..." "Are you still bleeding? I can smell exhaustion and pain?" "I don't know... half of this blood is mine and half is Zeke's" "Just focus on breathing" "Erwin... Zeke's body... please make sure she doesn't hurt him anymore" "We need to deal with Yelena first. I'm going to back Levi up" "Is... he's really back?" "Yeah, he is" Oh god... he wasn't prepared to talk to Levi again. He'd never imagined him coming back... Erwin patted his shoulder "Let us protect you" Levi had other plans, as Erwin advanced on the green dragon, his mate growled in warning "This bitch is mine" "I have a bone of my own to pick with her. I hear she's responsible for killing Prince Zeke" "Prince Zeke wasn't the man I thought him to be. He lost himself chasing that little Eldia slut, and fawning over their baby. Like he'd make a good father... Zeke was a god, but even god's fall" Yelena had gotten under Levi's skin. The alpha finally striking recklessly, with Erwin drawing Yelena's attention by striking at the dragon's tail. Growling, Levi pointed his sword at Erwin "Stay out of this!" "You heard him, stay out of this!" Being the stupid arsehole he was, Erwin didn't back down "I won't let you hurt either of them" Laughing, Yelena turned her dragon towards Erwin "What's a one armed arm bastard like you going to accomplish?" "I'm going to draw your attention while he attacks" Throwing himself forward, Levi skidded on the beach sand, thrusting Obsydin's sword into the dragon. Rearing in pain, Yelena jumped from the saddle of the dragon, drawing a pistol from her side as she rolled to crouch. Aiming the gun in his direction, Eren's eyes met hers, the woman's expression almost bored as she pulled the trigger. Flinching, the bullet never hit. Erwin between him and Yelena as Levi attacked from behind. Parrying the blow Yelena's gun was sliced in two, the woman going for her sword, but that wasn't what caught Eren's eye "Erwin, move!" The alpha stood no chance, the flailing dragon letting out a long deep breath of fire. Eren screaming as Erwin dropped to the sand clutching his face. Half his cloak was gone in an instant, as the man howled in pain. God. Why was he so useless?! He was a fucking dragon! Erwin had dragged him out the way, he'd risked himself for him, now the man was injured further. He couldn't have possibly recovered from Pieck's earlier shot. He needed to help him... It was like dragging a dead horse through mud, of at least that was how he felt to him. Crawling across the sand like an idiot, he winced at each clash of swords between Levi and Yelena. Their fight was like a cat playing with a mouse. Levi clearly stronger than Yelena, the woman on the back foot, yet fighting like she wasn't. It was a long few moments for him to reach Erwin, pulling him into his lap. The whole right side was blistered and burnt. The sight revolting, yet Eren forced himself not to look away. Praying to whoever he was listing, his magic gathered for a moment, but there wasn't enough to heal the alpha's burns. With tears dripping on Erwin's face, the fucker smiled "You shouldn't be here" "You're an idiot... why? You took the shot..." "Maybe I wanted to protect you? Maybe I'm just a coward?" "You're not a coward, you're an idiot! You have a whole kingdom that needs you" "No. They don't need me... it's time for a new prince" "Don't you dare lump that on me" "Not you... Armin. He's going to need you" As Yelena screamed, both of them looked towards her. Pinned to the ground, Levi stood on her arms, the woman kicking up a storm, yet couldn't dislodge him. Bringing Obsydin's sword down, Levi decapitated Yelena effortlessly. Both of them flinched away from the sight. Stepping off her, Levi eyed the wounded dragon. He was just one man, where as Eren and Erwin were two, and the centre of the hurt dragons attention. As the dragon prepared to breathe, Levi bolted towards them. Throwing the sword down about a foot in front of them, the alpha pulled his cloak up covering what he could of, of the pair. Not understanding, the dragons breath didn't reach the three of them. Behind Levi, the sword absorbed the magic, before bouncing the magic back at the dragon. Weakened, it was caught in the fire, the creature burning to death where it stood. Straightening up, Levi met his eyes, before they travelled down to Eren's swollen stomach. Impulsively, Eren blurted out "Erwin... it's Levi's baby" Erwin smiled, his hand patting at Eren's leg until he took it. He'd been meaning to comfort Erwin, but with Levi's eyes on his stomach, the wrong thing had fallen from his mouth "I'm happy for you. I know how much you wanted that" "Historia confirmed it... Armin knows" "You've seen him?" "He and Moblit broke me out. Everyone at the castle is waiting for you to come home" "Eren, you're a good kid... I didn't tell you that before... You don't have to be strong for me. We both know it's not good" "If you think I'm going to let you off that easily, you're an idiot" "All you've done for Eldia. You deserve to be happy. And you're going to guide Armin as he takes over as prince" "Officially?" "It's time Eldia had a blood prince who doesn't hide in the shadows" No... it wasn't going to happen. He wasn't losing another prince today. He didn't care that he was verging of passing out, Eren fought it... but fuck, he felt like shit. Eren was so tired he didn't know his words were mumbled, and slurred. Erwin was so out of it in pain, that he didn't realise the omega wasn't making much sense at all. Somehow they were managing to communicate, and concentrating on Erwin meant not looking at the alpha that had his heart racing and their baby kicking up a storm "Stop acting like you're dying. You're not going to be winning any beauty contests, but you'll be back to being an arse in no time" "I release the commands on you..." "Don't say that..." "Eren, I do. You're the bravest fake Prince of Eldia to date... better than this one at any rate" "Erwin... I already lost my husband today... please don't leave me too... he... He wouldn't want you to die" "You brought out the best in him. You brought the best out of all of us" He was so tired... he couldn't keep his eyes open "Eren, sleep" Levi's voice was soft as he gave the command. Eren unable to disobey the command, as his eyes slid closed. He didn't want to fall asleep. He wanted to see Mikasa for himself. He wanted to see Erwin taken to a healer. He... maybe wanted to talk to his alpha... but he was so fucking scared of what Levi had to say, and so fucking angry the man had left him to face all of this alone... yet, he fell asleep right there with the war continuing around him.

[mitchsmarners]

blood in the water: epilogue

Taglist: @honkhonkrichard, @hufflepuffkaspbrak, @fatbottomedcurls, @reddie-for-anything, @reddiesetrichie, @beepbeepbitchard, @lemonadeandrice, @lunacuore, @fivxharmony

[Prologue] [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10] [11] [12] [13] [14] [15] [16] [17][18][19][20] [Read Full Story on AO3] [Playlist]

Eddie Kaspbrak walks up towards his high school, smiling almost to himself. He continues walking until he stands beside the proper looking boy who was sitting on the metal railing outside the front of the school. The sun was hitting Stanley’s Devil jacket at the just the right angle to make it shine in the light. Stan titled his head back and smiled at Eddie. “You going in?”

Eddie looked up the banner hanging above the high school. CONGRATULATIONS GRADUATES, CLASS OF 2018. He shook his head. “Lately the least amount of social interaction I’m forced to go through is better.”

It had been nearly two months since the night of prom had shaken all of Derry to its very core, and Eddie still couldn’t go anywhere without the eyes of everybody falling onto him. He supposed that shooting your own mother in the back and killing her had that affect on a boy. Or maybe it was mother turning out to be the psychopathic killer that made the town dread sundown that was doing it. It was a toss up, really.

“Besides,” Eddie shrugged, a smile suddenly tugging at his lips. “We’ve got a more important ceremony to go to tonight, don’t we?”

Stan grinned almost toothily at him, reaching out to knock his hands against Eddie’s shoulder. “Yeah, we do.”

Eddie exhaled hard and stared back at Derry High School, accepting then that he would never be going back inside.

xxx

Eddie took his seat beside Patty and Stan as Wentworth Tozier moved onto the make shift stage in the Deep Float. He tapped on it and looked out amongst his members. “Welcome, welcome! This meeting is a long time coming, I think we all know.” He said with a voice as sicky as honey. The man still boiled Eddie’s blood, but he’d accepted recently that maybe he was in no position to judge other people’s parents. “My wife and I have put this off longer than we should have, but we felt it was important to give us all the chance to recover from the events that took place.”

Eddie fidgeted with the sleeves of his father’s too large Devils jacket that was now his, and looked around, noting with a pang in his chest all the missing people in this room. The Devils had lost more than a few young recruits in his mother’s scheme, and Eddie almost felt guilty about it. Almost.

“If what happened as taught us anything,” Wentworth carried on. “Is that our children- the next generation of Devils- have at last grown beyond what we are able to teach them. They have become their own group, they lead themselves. They took it upon themselves, and they found out the truth and ended the horror when we could not. I think the time has come for a change in how we do this around here. How can I stand here now and demand the respect of a group of children who are stronger and braver than I am?”

Stan gave half a smile, tangling his hand with Patty’s, who reached out and took Eddie’s hand in her free one. Eddie’s heart raced in his chest.

“My family and I discussed it and we’ve come to the only solution we possibly could,” Wentworth said. “We’ve always done things a certain way around here, for as long as the Devils have existed in Derry. If the past few months have taught us anything, it’s that this is a new world- and the way we used to do things doesn’t work anymore. There is only thing I can do to help the progression of the Devils naturally: I am stepping down as leader.”

Eddie sucked in a harsh breath, feeling Patty squeezing his hand harshly. There were whispers moving through the room, but Wentworth held his hand up for silence. “And there is only person who has the true training to take the lead here, one person whom I firmly believe can take the next generation of Devils and turn them into something better than we have ever been before.”

Maggie and her close guardsmen stepped aside and Richie Tozier stepped forward onto the stage. Eddie’s breath caught in his throat and he clutched at the chest of his shirt as though his heart might leap right out of his chest.

His boyfriend smile out at the crowd, rubbing at his healed wound on his stomach that Eddie knew always hurt him when he got anxious. “I tried to argue this, you know, in case you were wondering” Richie said out into the crowd. “Don’t think I did a whole hell of a lot, besides you know…. almost die. My lovely parents here seem to think I’m the right decision so I’ll try my best to be that.”

Patty yanked her hands free from Eddie and Stan to cup them around her mouth, shouting “We love you, Richie!” throughout the otherwise silent room. Richie turned to her, eyes dancing and smile so pure and genuine and alive that Eddie thought he might cry.

It started quietly, at first, the slow rising clap throughout the Devils but soon it was smashing through the room and Eddie was definitely crying now as he clapped along. Richie had his hands pressed to his cheeks and he might have been laughing, but Eddie couldn’t hear him over the applause.

Richie met Eddie’s eyes through the crowd and beamed. He stepped down from the podium and dodged through the chattered people. Eddie didn’t even realize he’d stood up until he was launching in to Richie’s arms, feet off the ground, legs around his waist.

“Fuck…” Richie groaned as though it was punched from his gut. “I fucking love you.”  

It wasn’t anything close to what Eddie Kaspbrak thought he was life was going to be like… but it was still good.

#reddie #reddie fic #it fanfiction #my writing #AND THATS ALL SHE WROTE FOLKS!

[cupidmarwani-archive]

Leaving Our Home (6/10)

WC: 1000

Once Mike and Peter are both in the living room, everything happens far too quickly. They’re allowed to sit next to each other, but Mike is ignoring him no matter how many times he says that he didn’t betray him. It’s painful that Mike even believes he would. In any other circumstances Peter would be angry about it and they’d argue, but now isn’t the time, because things aren't just going to go back to normal. They ran away. It doesn’t matter how little time that lasted because they’ve now shown they won’t be easy to control.

“Luckily for you both,” the stranger says, “you’re going somewhere you won’t be able to hurt yourselves or anyone else. In fact, it’s a safe environment for you to learn how to harness your powers and use them for good.”

For good is a relative term. They’ll be taught how to aid Mike’s father and the police, how to torture people, how to become good little broken down soldiers like he’s tried to turn Mike into since the day he was born. Wherever they’re going to go, whatever they’re going to do, it won’t be pleasant. Peter tries again to look into the stranger and Mike’s father’s minds, but receives the same painful rebuff.

All he can read are Mike’s thoughts, which spill around him and permeate his brain so he can’t ignore them, can barely distinguish them from his own when they’re so pressing and intense. Mostly, it’s fear. That’s understandable. But there’s also determination, the beginning of a plan with intent brewing behind it. Mike may have a way to get the two of them out of here, because for once, Peter feels completely useless. He’s about to try and figure out the plan when Mike launches into it.

Mike’s father reaches to put a hand on his shoulder, and then he’s on his knees, gritting his teeth as Mike holds his arm tightly. No matter how much he tries to escape, Mike has a good grip on him, and he seems to be in an incredible amount of pain. Before Peter’s very eyes, bruises start spreading outward from Mike’s hand, expanding like butter melting over a hot biscuit. The room is overpowered with Mike’s thoughts, which just boil down into the desire to hurt. He wants his father to feel the pain he has. Peter’s actually afraid of him.

He’s about to say something, but then the worst pain of his life rips through his back and he sinks to the floor. None of his limbs seem to be working. All he can do is lay there, tears on his cheeks, something warm and wet spreading around him.

“Michael,” the stranger says behind Peter, “if you want him to live, you’re going to have to come over here and save him.”

Oh. That’s what this feeling is. He’s dying. He’s thought about what it would feel like to die, and it’s not like this. But he can’t do anything about it, and just stares at the carpet in front of his eyes. There’s red creeping toward him, his own blood, possibly. He’s going to pass out any second, or maybe it’s death lingering in his peripheral vision.

Next thing he knows, Mike’s hand is on his back and he feels the pain leaching out of him. In moments he feels good as new, which means Mike healed him, took his pain. When he sits up, it’s to see Mike at his side, seemingly out cold. At least his chest is still rising and falling, if a bit too quickly to be safe. He’s alive. Then the man lifts Mike up like a ragdoll and puts him on the couch. Peter reaches for him to comfort him, but instead receives a kick in the stomach to settle him down.

“I’ll call the truck,” Mike’s father says, rubbing his arm as he gets to his feet. His entire bicep is dark with burst blood vessels and looks a bit swollen. Serves him right. “How long until I’ll get my son back when this is over?”

They really are going to be sent away. There’s nothing they can do to save themselves, and Mike is out cold, and all he can think about now is how awful things are going to be. Wherever they’re going can’t be good, if it’s what Mike’s father wants from them. Peter can’t breathe at the thought, but there’s nothing he can do. When the rumble of a car in the driveway arrives, the thought of getting in it appears in his brain and he’s suddenly doing it, no matter how much he wants to fight back or run far away.

Outside, the truck isn’t much. It’s a horse trailer, with a flap of canvas covering the part where a horse would stick out it’s head. He and Mike will be in here, knocked around in the metal box with poor ventilation and nothing to protect them from harsh turns or the heat of the sun. And it definitely doesn’t help that Mike is still unconscious, still unable to fight back as he’s carried to the truck alongside Peter and out inside without any care for his safety.

“This is good for you,” Mike’s father says, still rubbing his injured arm. “You’ll learn how to control yourself in a safe environment, Peter. And you won’t keep getting Mike into trouble.”

“Fuck you.”

In response, Mike’s father slams the trailer door shut, leaving Peter in near complete darkness, feeling around the room for Mike. The least he can do is make sure Mike’s head doesn’t slam into the walls or the floor, hurt him worse than he already is from saving Peter’s life. There’s no telling what will happen to them when they get where they’re going, or if they’ll survive it.

“I’ve got you,” Peter tells Mike, running his fingers through his greasy hair. “We’re going to be okay. I promise, I won’t let anything happen to you.”

#foh #mine #loh

[fairytsuk1]

street-rats (f)

pairing: izuku midoriya x ochaco uraraka

request:  can you write a mha Aladdin au please? The story would be about Izuku as Aladdin with Ochoka as a fellow street rat as they face off against Bakugou whose the guard captain along with his guards. They'd be played by the bakusquad but aren't as mean or aggressive as their leader. What do you think?

THIS IS AN ALADDIN AU

genre: fluff, i mean it’s those 2 what did you expect

words:  1059

a/n: i’m like the worst writer in the world like i take so long please forgive me jfc school is the worst (also ask me asks i’m desperate thanks)

   Nothing ever came easy for Midoriya Izuku, he wouldn’t call himself cursed or anything but he did wonder why things seemed so hard for him. Being a street rat was not easy and often he had to worry about Bakugou (the most aggressive guard captain he’s ever met) and his guard friends attacking him.

   The one thing that made him happy though, was being able to lie back in his makeshift bed and gaze at the stars. He was often too excited to sleep, he tended to get up in the middle of the night and jump from buildings to buildings like a ninja. It was fun for him! He could make up stories, find a new area where he could get food and other things, or simply just lie on the rooftop and stare at the sky till the sun was peeking over. It wasn’t an ideal life but, it was just the way he lived his.

   Bakugou sat on some steps while indulging in his breakfast, Kirishima appeared shortly and plopped down next to him, beginning to eat as well.

“Do you always have to bother me when I’m by myself shitty hair?”

   “Oh come on man! We’re on the same team! Have you seen Midoriya yet?”

“Why do you even know his name?! He’s just a street rat, take your job seriously.”

   “I am! Also, Sero said there’s another, a girl. She has brown hair and I think pink cheeks?”

   Bakugou scoffs and begins to tune him out whilst scanning the area looking for those two. Midoriya peered down from the roof and frowned, Bakugou seemed particularly more annoyed today. Especially talking to his seeming friends, Midoriya wondered if he should even risk it.

   “Hey, are they all gone? Or are they taking watch?!”

   Turning, Midoriya almost fell over from shock. One, there was a beautiful girl standing there and two, she was a street rat just like him! Finally, a friend, he mused.

“Oh! Hi! They’re uh still just...sitting there. I think they’re on the lookout for us actually. Er, what’s your name? I’m Midoriya. Izuku Midoriya.”

   She smiles and lowers her hood, “I’m Uraraka. Are you looking for food too?”

“Ah well...yeah. Where do you usually get it from? People are starting to recognize me,” making a face, he glances back at the ground to find Bakugou no longer there, good, “of course you don’t have to tell me or anything! I was just curious you know…”

   “Don’t worry about it mkay? And it’d probably be better if I just showed you. There’s this man named Sato, he’s a great baker and doesn’t pay attention too much. Follow me if you want.”

   Midoriya’s shocked when she just jumps to the next building and then down shortly after. So cool, he feels his heart pounding in his chest. He’s never really held a conversation with a girl! Let alone get asked to follow her! He couldn’t let this rare chance slip away, a friend could always make things easier. Doing the same, he slipped away with her in broad daylight.

   The last thing Bakugou was able to get a glimpse of, was that green hair flying down.

“Kirishima and Kaminari! Sero! Get over here!” he began to try and chase them, “I found the little fuckers!”

   Uraraka was excited, to put it simply. It had been so long since she’d been able to hang out with someone normal. It had been even longer to be able to steal with someone. Right now, her face was flushed from laughing at Midoriya who was currently detangling himself from drying clothes.

“Are you okay? Haha, you look like a fly in a spider's web,” Uraraka adjusted her bag with bread and began to help him out. She blushed when their hands brushed against each other. “Don’t worry! You’ll be fine.”

   “Now, I guess you really are trapped in a spider’s web,” Bakugou’s mouth quirked up as he leaned against the wall, relishing in their shocked faces.

   Uraraka and Midoriya quickly turned to try and get out of this situation but find themselves trapped with Kirishima and Kaminari blocking the other entrance of the alleyway. Kaminari waves cheerfully, obviously excited to report progress made.

“You should probably be more careful next time,” Kaminari muses thoughtfully. Although it sounds like a threat, in reality, everyone else besides Bakugou didn’t want to actually hurt them. Maybe rough them up to discourage them but not “make them die” as Bakugou liked to proclaim, “well, let’s get em’!”

   Midoriya had begun to push the weakest one out of the four, Kaminari out-of-the-way when a loud cry echoed between the walls. Turning in confusion, he spotted Uraraka lowering her leg and Sero holding his nose. Uraraka had totally wrecked Sero’s nose! Just when he thought she couldn’t get any cooler.

   “You bastard! I’m gonna fucking kill you!” Bakugou shouts and launches forward, pressing Midoriya against the wall harshly to keep him from leaving, “Grab pink cheeks too!”

“Pink cheeks?! Wa-Hey! Let me go!”

   Bakugou shakes Midoriya, wanting to instill just a slight amount of panic in him, “we’re gonna report you and then my job's done!” what Bakugou didn’t know was the fact that Kirishima felt the most sympathetic towards the two. He knew how difficult things could be and he really didn’t want another innocent person imprisoned. He lessened his grip. Uraraka was given the chance to escape.

   She looks between the entrance of the alley and Midoriya being pinned. He would get in so much trouble, she didn’t even want to think of what would happen. She took a deep breath and scrambled over. Kirishima pretended to be injured from her.

“Not today he won’t!” Uraraka used all her strength to push Bakugou away. She grabbed his head and shoulder before praying to everything holy that he wouldn’t hurt her.

   Though her push wasn’t necesarily strong, it had taken Bakugou by surprise, allowing his grip to falter momentarily and for Midoriya to grab her hand and tug her away.

   Bakugou screamed in annoyance and frustration, her cheeks lifted in laughter. She hadn’t even noticed Midoriya’s hand gripping his and his green eyes sparkling as they looked at her.

   Midoriya, however, knew that this was a story he would tell his kids and that maybe she’d be there along the way.

#bnha #bnha spoilers #bnha manga #bnha midoriya #bnha bakugou #bakusquad #kaminari #kaminari denki #sero #sero hanta #kirishima #kirishima eijirou #katsuki bakugou #bakugou #midoriya izuku #midoriya #uraraka ochaco #uraraka #bnha uraraka #midoriya x uraraka #izuocha #bnha ships #requests are open #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #ship fic #aladdin #aladdin au #bnha aladdin au