how does antiquing work in Star Trek?

like, okay, there's no scarcity Because Replicators. great! except you can't replicate an antique, not the real thing. probably some AMAZING reproductions- 24th-century historical costumers must be having the time of their lives, because as great as modern synthetic baleen is, imagine what you could do with a machine that literally replicates the exact molecular structure of the same! or that extinct flax that made medieval linen so great! -but I know antique collectors. there's nothing like the feeling of something you know so many other people have loved for centuries

is it like a barter system? do you go to the antique "shop" with things passed down in your family or found in the equivalent of a Facebook buy-nothing group, and trade what you have for what the history nerd running the place has based on your respective interests?

is Brimfield like a giant swap meet? could I go with, say...a big bag full of my grandmother's chunky 1950s costume jewelry and trade it for 1880s blouse waists because the stall owner wants the former and I want the latter? equivalent value wouldn't matter- what's value, beyond how much you treasure something? nobody's got rent to make or bills to pay, after all

do people become antiques "dealers" just for the thrill of the hunt and the pleasure of matching an object to someone who will love it? you don't have to work, after all; you can spend your whole life searching the world for rare treasures if that brings you joy

this is a nice thought

Cat Behavior - [post Mt. Gulg, Pre Tempest]

Self indulgent Miqo'te - cat stuff between my WoL and Y'shtola. No I won't elaborate.

“When was the last time you cleaned your ears?”

Nimda had just settled down at the edge of her bed after getting into her pajamas. And it was Y'shtola who walked up to her from the other side of her room, looking at her to await an answer.

Nimda blinked. Her thoughts are completely and utterly blocked by this question.

“I … uh.” Was this … why she wanted to look after me alone? “... This feels like a set up ploy.”

But Y'shtola only chuckled. “Nothing of that. I just know how much trouble it is and knowing you, I felt I may just ask this uncomfortable topic when we're alone.”

… She still wasn't quite convinced, but Nimda took the explanation anyway. She started to think when and most importantly where to remember, but -

Oh gods, that was so long ago.

“Um …” Nimda scratched the side of her face with a finger in a very big thinking way. “... Yeah.”

Still having that smile on her face, Nimda could see how Y'shtola's eyes somewhat grew sad as she started patting her head. “Thought so.”

She sat down beside her and took out several materials to do just that. “So then, may I?”

There was no way she got out of this situation anyways and it was for her own good as well, so -

With a deep breath and a chuckle herself Nimda nodded.

Memories of a hazy time flooded back to her, from the very first days (weeks? it was all such a blur now) she spent the nights at the Waking Sands. It was there where Y'shtola first actually told these things to her - how to sit with a tail, how to sleep with one, how to brush and wash her hair properly, to properly eat the right things. And, the very first time she showed her how to clean these new ears of hers.

(“Surely you must have done that … previously?” “I … I mean, yeah, but, not …-” “... I see, I see. Sit down there. I'll show you.”)

Nimda’s other ear twitched as Y'shtola started her work. And suddenly the memories of this very first time started pouring back - Wait.

She flinched at the uncomfortable feeling, ducking away from her touch.

“... Sorry-” Nimda apologized right away though, cupping her face with both her hands.

“I know, I know. But hold still for me, okay?”

Her touches were very gentle, much more gentle than Nimda remembered all these years ago. She wondered if it was just because her memories were playing tricks on her, or if it had something to do that Y'shtola felt her way through it rather than seeing. Still, Nimda trusted her.

It didn't stop her other ear twitching all the time, but focusing on breathing instead definitely helped. She was just fully glad Ryne had mended the light earlier, otherwise it would have been very inconvenient if it acted up right now.

And as sudden as this process started, Y'shtola was done with both ears. Nimda shook her head and scratched the backs of her ears, a good tingly feeling running down her spine that made her let out a deep breath.

“How is that?”

Nimda hummed. “Weirdly … refreshing. In a good way.”

“I'm glad.” Y'shtola chuckled and patted her head again. She got up and disposed of the stuff she used, turning to Nimda again. “Time to get some rest, then. We will have a long day tomorrow.”

Even though it wasn't night, it was pretty late and Nimda felt the sleepiness creeping up to her. Though she wasn't sure if it was just a result of the general mix of feeling exhausted from dealing with the light and sleepiness itself. It probably was, but Y'shtola was right.

“And you will stay the entire time?” Nimda asked as she patted over her pillow.

“This is what we agreed upon, yes.” Y'shtola said. She already settled down on a chair a bit further away from the bed, book in hand. “You rest up and I'll keep watch.”

Right.

At least … at least there was the reassurance that there was actually someone right by her side and not watch from afar. Someone who could take immediate action. She so desperately wished it hadn't come to this in the first place, but -

Everyone was concerned, rightfully so. She didn't want that though. They shouldn't have to be concerned, but that wasn't something she could change right now. She was stuck in this situation and had to deal with it, in one way or another.

But she wasn't alone in this, even if her head tried to tell her otherwise over and over.

Barely five minutes had passed since Nimda had laid down on her pillow to find some sleep that she opened her eyes again. “Y'shtola?”

“Yes?”

“Can you … sit beside me, here?”

Y'shtola wasn't sure what she meant until she saw her pointing at the other side of her bed. She let out a curious Huh before she actually indulged in Nimda's request, climbing over her to get to the spot. She leaned against the headboard, the book in her lap, and Nimda curled up beside her, her back huddling against her legs.

“Like this?”

“Mmhm.” Nimda hummed with a smile.

Content, Nimda managed to slowly drift to sleep.

Y'shtola had to admit that it had been ages, ages ago since the last time anything like this happened to her. Maybe even as far back when Y’mhitra still slept on her side - it made her realize that this was something Miqo'te related she did not teach her and Nimda did out of her own. A smile played on her lips and she dropped her hand to gently brush her fingers over Nimda's hair, hoping to sooth her even further.

Yet eventually no matter how much she tried to stay awake, sleep would take her as well, dwelling in this forgotten comfort she re-experienced.

Of course a cough would rip her out of her slumber. Nimda's head felt heavy as she tried to curl up even further to prevent another cough - seeing the remains of droplets of light on her hand though, a mild panic ran through her and all that want to sleep vanished instantly.

No, no, not again, not now.

She closed her eyes and took several deep breaths - as Ryne told her to do should any uncomfort arise regarding the light - focusing on just herself and her inner flow of aether. And … it did seem to work. The need to cough vanished and she relaxed a bit, releasing the tension that formed all over her body.

… All it did was to make her feel lightheaded and her world seemed to spin. That Ryne did not tell her -

Nimda shifted onto her back, which somehow made things even worse, so she turned to her other side, reaching out to wrap her arms around Y'shtola's legs. And it made the woman stir in her sleep, but not wake her.

“Y'shtola.” Nimda whispered, clinging onto her even more.

Now that finally had her react and Y'shtola reached out to Nimda, gently caressing her head.

“What's wrong? … Should I get Ryne?”

“... Dizzy.” was all Nimda managed to get out. The suggestion of Ryne didn't even cross her mind, but as of right now the light itself was not bothering her. Maybe she could help, maybe it was because she tried to mend it herself -

But her thoughts went into nothing as Y'shtola grabbed her and let her lay against her, tucking her chin on top of Nimda's head as she started … to purr.

Her world was still spinning, somewhat, but this entire situation just now must have distracted her so much that it just stopped. Her cold skin against her head, the comforting purr she never had heard from her before, the gentle stroking of her temples - it all just made her sleepy again, and Nimda accepted this all just now, not questioning anything.

Not that she thought she would get any answer anyways, considering she didn't even know what to ask first.

“Better?”

Nimda wanted to respond in any way, but the comfort took hold too quickly too much. Even Y'shtola noticed that, feeling Nimda drift to sleep against her.

It was all she could have wished for.

For the one person she wanted to call her daughter.

Thigh job with Genshin boys - Zhongli

Genre: Smut

Pairing: Fem reader x Zhongli

Knock-Knock-Knock

You are standing in front of the door to Zhongli’s office at the Wangsheng Funeral Parlour. Upon knocking, you open the door and peek inside only to see the Archon seated at his desk and hunching over some documents. His form relaxes the moment his eyes cast upon your persona.

„Can I come in?” you ask politely knowing very well that Zhongli would never be capable of saying no to you.

He puts aside the pen that was previously tightly squeezed in the palm of his hands. Eyes glistening and his facial expression a tell-tale sign of excitement which he promptly attempts to hide going back to the customary for him calm facade.

Immovable as a rock and yet his world was shaken the moment you waltzed into it.

Zhongli doesn’t mind though and he revels in the way you made everything the Archon thought he knew to go to rack and ruin.

So, he finds himself inviting you and wreaking more havoc in his hitherto impassive and emotionless millenniums of existence.

„Oh, by all means, please do,” he responds courtly. He straightens up in his armchair gesturing to his lap.

You smile knowingly.

Zhongli but adores having you in his lap. The way your soft body fits in there is glorious and the lord of Geo could narrate hundreds of stories about the marvel of you being sat on his thigh tightly pressed into his sturdy physique.

It is his way of unwinding after a long day or taking a break from work. He would find solace and relaxation with you next to him. It becomes habitual and it just occurs naturally. When he sips his tea, scans through documents, reads a book or wants to tell you some of the stories from his past. You sit on his lap and everything falls into place.

He loves the control this setting gives him and the fact that he can easily do whatever he deems fit when your body is conveniently at his disposal.

And you wouldn’t say no. Whatever his intentions are.

So you come over to the handsome god and with a loud scoff unceremoniously land on his lap while wrapping your arms around his neck.

„What’s the matter my dearest?” he furrows his brows but the little crooked smile doesn’t escape your notice. Zhongli can’t help himself, he thinks that you’re just too adorable and pure for this world.

„Oh, Zhongli!” you cry out, „That little bastard Venti stood m-,”

He clears his throat and gives you a reprimanding glare, „Language my little girl.”

You roll your eyes at his antics and wiggle your butt successfully shifting your position so that your whole weight is now on Zhongli’s right thigh and your legs are hanging in the air on the other side of the armchair. He wraps a protective arm around your middle while his free hand starts caressing your uncovered leg, so nicely exposed by the skirt of your choice.

So once you feel all snug and comfortable you continue dramatically, „Zhongli, but he really stood me up! I needed his help with one commission and I found him as drunk as a skunk. He was so sloshed he fell asleep in the tavern and Kaeya had to escort him home!”

„Is that so?” he cocks an eyebrow but he isn’t surprised at all.

„Yes! I wasted so much time because of this motherf-,”

Zhongli shoots you another look of disapproval and you just smile apologetically.

„He’s never been good at holding his liquor, my Dear,” he states the obvious more preoccupied with the way the plump flesh of your thighs reddens when he squeezes it with his leather-clad hand. He allows himself to roam a bit higher and the skirt does little to prevent his movement.

„Dear,” he says as his lips approach your earlobe, „Have you by any chance forgotten to put on underwear yet again?”

You really love Zhongli’s voice. His low rumbles, deep and husky sounds from the back of his throat always give you goosebumps.

And so this time, you shudder in his embrace like a leaf in the wind.

„No, of course I didn’t,” you respond in your defence.

„Mind if I see?” he asks and pushes your skirt out of the way revealing your naked bum.

He clicks his tongue, feeling you up with his long fingers. The gloves he is wearing create nice friction as he strokes your skin.

„I might have forgotten after all,” you admit even if reluctantly.

Zhongli is a patient man. Throughout the centuries he has learned to remain cool and composed despite the most arduous and trying of times. He would have never guessed that this quality of his would so often come in handy when graced with your presence.

„Pray-tell my Dearest, so you did come here, parading around the streets of my city with no decency in your soul left, only to sit in my lap with your bare bottom?”

This question sounded more like an accusation and was rather rhetorical.

You shrug your shoulders for lack of any better excuse.

The archon takes a deep breath and digs his fingers into the meat of your ass.

„You enjoyed yourself last time, no?” you make a point to remind the lord of Geo of your last visit to his office.

„So vulgar,” he criticizes gazing down and marvelling how your smooth skin contrasts with the material of his black slacks. You would often stain them with your juices when the Archon opts for something more than just telling you stories with you in his lap.

„I trust you know what to do, Love,” he adds once again locking his eyes with yours and then kisses your forehead fondly.

You chuckle having no intentions to make the god wait any longer.

You let your hands slide down to his crotch and unbuckle the belt helping Zhongli get his erection out of the tight black slacks. At times like this, you would internally curse the Archon for his strict dress code but it can’t be helped. Zhongli is as stubborn as a mule when it comes to certain customs.

His cock springs free and you bite your lip openly admiring the ex-Archon. It never ceases to thrill you. His shaft is thick and painfully long with popping veins and a swollen tip. He is just so enormously big it intimidates you. You briefly wonder if it has anything to do with him being a half-dragon and you shudder at the thought mentally taking a note to ask him about that next time he places you in his lap.

Zhongli’s heartbeat quickens when you teasingly stroke his impressive girth, your lips finding his and you crash them together hungrily.

He hums in delight when you slide your thumb over the tip of his penis. You break the kiss and flash a cute grin at your immortal lover.

„I want to please you with my thighs,” you inform him matter-of-factly at which he nods somehow too quickly to match his typical indifferent attitude.

„You spoil me, my little one,” he praises in an erotic timbre and his eyes widen when you lift yourself from his lap and turn around.

„Hold my waist, will you?” you ask for some assistance placing your hands on both sides of the chair.

„Certainly, so,” he obliges.

So with some help on his side, you elevate your bum and reach for his hardened cock to delicately insert it between your warm-to-the-touch thighs. Experimentally, you lift yourself up and then push down letting his erection slide between your legs in a smooth motion. You make sure to smudge the leaking pre-cum all over his shaft so that the Archon doesn’t feel any discomfort.

„How does that feel Zhongli?” you ask glancing behind your back only to see his already fucked-out stare which makes your chest swell in adoration.

His lips are parted and eyes half-closed as he holds onto your waist the way you asked him to.

„Absolutely marvellous, my Dear. Please, do continue, hmm?” he encourages albeit struggles to reply.

You carry on stroking him like that, sometimes pressing your thighs a little tighter and he groans as quiet as he possibly can. Zhongli would despise being caught by Hu-Tao when you rub his cock so expertly.

The pace you decide to torture Zhongli with is sickeningly slow and he’s had enough of playing around for today.

You let out a muffled cried when the Archon grabs you even tighter and forces you down on his dick. He repeats the motion in an animalistic tempo taking pride in the way your ass bounces up and down in front of his eyes.

„Zhongli!” you plead as you feel your legs going numb.

„Bear with me a little longer, Love” he coos.

Your whole body hurts and your arms feel as if they were going to give out any moment.

Fortunately, Zhongli isn’t going to last much longer as the pleasure mixed with pain make him approach the brink he so much desires. With one final thrust and a guttural moan he releases and you can feel his hot load on the inner side of your thighs. Some drops of cum land on your lower belly and face. It’s so messy and you feel how your walls contract around nothing in feverish excitement.

He helps you go back to your previous position with his arms now tightly wrapped around your exhausted body. He enjoys the slight twitching of your weary muscles. He reaches for your chin and forces you to face him.

„Home?” you ask in a desperate plea for him to return the favour. Your body aching for his touch.

„Home,” Zhongli agrees, as indeed, the Archon is unable to turn down any of your wishes.

Other boys:

Albedo

Xiao

Diluc

Kaeya

Childe

Kazuha

Temporary Home: Chapter 15

Guardians of the Galaxy fanfic | Reader x Guardians (With Yondu and Kraglin!)

Summary: Peter and you have started another prank war. Who will come out on top?

Previous Chapter here | Next Chapter Here Or click here to: Start From Beginning

Author’s Note: Thanks to anon for submitting this idea for a cute fluffy scene to include in the story! Also, for my records this chapter ends on day 29 of the Guardians living with reader. Enjoy!

Word Count: 6,812

It soon became clear that the prank war was back on.

Just as you had resolved to the previous night, you squirted lemon juice in Peter's coffee when he wasn't looking.

He made a face upon tasting his ruined coffee, but just gave you a look of sleepy contempt as he dumped it in the sink rather than complaining. He knew what he had done to deserve it. However, that didn't mean he wasn't going to get you back.

He had his revenge later in the sitting room. He called you over, stating he had a question about a book. When you got closer to him, he then asked, "Hey, do you smell popcorn?"

You raised an eyebrow, and of course took in a big whiff. Big mistake.

You immediately gagged, your nostrils having been assaulted by the rankest smelling fart you think could have ever been expelled from a human body. It even rivaled Yondu's incident with dairy.

Peter lost it, doubling over with laughter as you backed away with your mouth and nose covered.

"Ugh! You nasty fecker! Oh my god!" you cried out, still backing away. "What's wrong with you!"

Kraglin, Drax, and Rocket were now also laughing from their places near the television. Drax laughed the loudest, saying, "Quill! That was brilliant! I'm not even mad that I lost the bet! HAHAHA! I'm going to try that!"

The bet he was referencing had happened moments prior, when Peter saw you in the hall and hurried into the sitting room whispering to his friends that he bet 20 units he could make you willingly smell his farts. Ah, what an immature lot they are.

You would have smacked Peter, but that would mean getting closer to him and the smell and you thought better of it, instead turning with the intent to leave the room completely, leaving them still laughing in your wake with only revenge on your mind.

You tried to think about what you had at your disposal, and remembered that you still had the whoopee cushion after you had snatched it back from Kraglin during the last prank war. You kind of wish you knew where your spider went though. It proved marvelously effective last time. After Peter threw it at you and it resulted in your arm getting injured, you hadn't really thought about what happened to it afterwards until now. You obviously hadn't taken it, so you just assumed that it must still be with Peter. You momentarily considered looking in his room for it, but the thought of searching through his stuff felt strange to you, even if you would be looking for your own toy.

You remembered the sticky notes in your desk up stairs and thought if worse came to worse, you could always pull a classic "Kick me" sign.

You decided a walk might help you consider your options better and so you collected your earbuds from the hall table and made your way towards the back door. You noticed Gamora in the kitchen on your way, and realized she might actually have the answer to one of your questions.

"Um, hey, Gamora?"

She turned to give you her attention. "Yes?"

"I was wondering..." You suddenly felt ridiculous for asking, but pushed it down, "if maybe you had seen if Peter still had that toy spider of mine? I was wondering if I might have it ba-"

"Nuh-uh. That ain't happening."

You raised an eyebrow in surprise, but not at her, for she hadn't been the one to answer, and she was just as surprised by this sudden third-party interjection.

It had been Yondu who had spoken, and he spoke again. "I'm the one that's got it, and I ain't givin' it back." He sat at the table looking at you with his arms crossed and wearing a smirk, as if daring you to complain about it. He had snatched it the night you dislocated your elbow, around the time he was scolding Peter and Kraglin and calling an end to that prank war himself after it had resulted in an injury.

You raised both eyebrows in surprise now. "Excuse you?" you say, surprised at his boldness and a bit irritated at how he now seemed like a scolding teacher who had confiscated contraband from a naughty child.

"Yondu, you can't just steal her property." Gamora chided.

"Ya heard me. Last time she and Quill had it that happened," he gestured to your arm. "So I'm keeping it since clearly neither of the two of 'em seem to have any sense. She wouldn't be askin' for it back if they weren't gettin' into it again."

You exchanged a look with Gamora. Her expression told you that she seemed to agree with his argument, but didn't want to risk saying so, and that she now seemingly regretted being involved in this situation.

Deciding you were on your own you opened your mouth to tell him off, but before you could he spoke again.

"Don't try denyin' it either. I saw ya putting that sour juice stuff in his coffee. I know the two of ya are back at it again with that prank war stuff," he said almost smugly. "Ya ain't getting it back." He didn't want another prank war to result in more injuries, and if he was honest, he was still slightly salty about having been caught in the crossfire of one of your pranks that had been meant for Peter. He thought outright admitting to confiscating your spider toy would hopefully send the message to you to knock it off before you got started.

You bit your lips and narrowed your eyes at him, half embarrassed at being called out like that. You then shook your head. You were not about to demand or beg for the return of a rubber spider like a child. You straightened your back slightly and said, "Whatever. Keep it then. Don't care." in your best flippant tone. You turned away, putting in your earbuds and added, "Going for a walk. Try not to burn the house down," as you exited out the back door and left the two of them in the kitchen.

You didn't need that spider anyways.

***

It was a cooler day out, overcast in a way that made you think it might rain that night, and you were glad you thought to grab a jacket before you left for your walk. You thought you might visit your old tree, and assess that old door while you were out there. There wasn't a whole lot you could do with your arm still in a brace, but you knew you could still at least open it and give it a general look to see what you might need to build a new door for it.

However, when you got there you quickly realized that the door was simply too awkwardly big and slightly too flimsy due to decay from the elements to risk trying to open it with just one arm. You didn't want to risk falling in it and either causing further injury and/or not be able to climb back out if it turned out the ladder rungs descending into the tunnel were bad too. You were now kicking yourself for not having fixed it months ago when you first noticed how bad it had gotten. At least at that period of time your arm wasn't in a brace and you didn't have eight houseguests to worry about.

You sighed. For now you settled on making a list in your phone of the different materials you'd need to make a sturdier door in the future when you were less... indisposed. No big deal. The world wasn't going to end if you couldn't fix it immediately, and honestly it was probably dumb of you to come out there right now in the first place. Sure, maybe you could get the door built in your current state. Maybe. If no one was around to see you breaking the doctor's orders on the weight restriction and then tell on you to Fury. But that didn't change the fact that you'd then need to carry it out there somehow. Something you definitely couldn't do in your current state. There was perhaps the option to bring the materials out there and assemble them on-sight, but you knew you couldn't carry them out there in a timely fashion either. Could you if you asked for help? Absolutely. Were you going to? Not a chance.

You hung out around the tree for a bit, just listening to music before deciding to head back, and that's when you noticed some pine cones littering the ground.

This gave you an idea. You remembered once when you were little and your dad took you and your brother camping. Your brother had hidden pinecones in the bottom of your sleeping bag. Your feet came in contact with the foreign objects, and being met with weird almost scaly feeling forms instead of the softness of your sleeping bag made you jump right out of said bag with a shriek.

You grinned. You had found your revenge prank. You only hoped that it would have the same effect on a grown man finding these at the foot of his bed as it did on seven-year-old you finding them in your sleeping bag.

Now you had another reason to be glad you wore a jacket. You could hide the pinecones in the pockets as well as hiding them inside the jacket itself and zip them inside.

You loaded up several pinecones. Enough to be sure he'd notice when crawling into bed, but not so many that they'd be noticed as you snuck them into the house.

You arrive back at the house to find the house mostly quiet, and it made you worry that Peter might be in his room and you wouldn't be able to place the pinecones.

However, just to your luck, you managed to catch a glimpse of him and a few others out front through the kitchen window. Perfect.

You quickly make your way upstairs and headed towards Peter's room. The upstairs seemed to be empty and you were just about to congratulate yourself on your good fortune as you already started pulling pinecones out of your pockets, until you noticed Rocket standing in Peter and Gamora's room.

Seeing him caused you to start and you dropped a couple of your pinecones on the ground due to your arm brace hampering your ability to reflexively catch them before they fell. The sound of the pinecones hitting the floor caused Rocket to startle in turn.

"Uh..." you said awkwardly, stepping into the room and picking up your pinecones, "What you doing?"

Rocket, who had been digging through a dresser drawer, responded with, "...Nuttin. What are you doing?" He eyed the pinecones in your hands.

"Nothing." You responded.

An awkward silence fell for a moment. You both knew the other wasn't really supposed to be there, that the only reason for being there right then was mischief of some sort, and you both knew that the other knew that you knew. There was only one thing for it.

Rocket spoke again. "Right..."

You nod. "Yes... good. So... carry on then?"

Rocket nodded slowly. "Yeah..." He turned back to looking for whatever it was he was snooping for.

Taking the hint, the unspoken 'I won't tell if you won't," you carried out your plan, removing the pinecones from your jacket and placing them at the foot of Peter's bed under the blankets.

You finished quickly, catching Rocket's gaze again before you left. A silent nod was all that was exchanged and you were on your way.

***

The rest of the day was mostly uneventful. You read, you listened to music, you got roped into a game of Monopoly that went on far too long because Mantis kept needing reminded of the rules. You didn't entire blame her. It was pretty obvious that it was everyone but Peter's first time playing.

Speaking of Peter, you were surprised he hadn't tried to mess with you the entire game, and you wondered if Gamora might have got on him after hearing Yondu say he could tell that the two of you were starting in on another prank war, or if Yondu had scolded him himself.

Sometime after the game had finished- Gamora won, and Peter pouted- you went to get a drink from the kitchen. When you returned to the sitting room to grab another book to bring upstairs to read you saw Drax approach Yondu and ask, "Yondu, do you smell popcorn?"

Not wanting to sit through another round of what Peter had done to you that morning, you quickly grab a random Sci-Fi/Fantasy book from the shelf and turn to get out of there just in time to hear Yondu reply with, "What the hell is popcorn?"

This was immediately followed by the sound of a very loud fart along with Drax's booming laughter.

In startled surprise you sharply turned in their direction to see Drax laughing and Yondu's face scrunched in both confusion and what was likely disgust.

Peter was laughing too, but at Drax rather than Yondu's misfortunate proximity to his offender. "Drax! Buddy, the fart's supposed to be silent."

Drax didn't seem to mind his mistake, just simply responded with "Ohhh!" and continued to laugh while Yondu shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose in annoyance.

Taking in the sight you couldn't help but giggle too at just how ridiculous the situation was. You brought a hand up to your mouth to suppress it, but the sound caught the attention of Yondu and Peter anyway. Yondu's eyes narrowed and Peter was pleasantly surprised that you found the situation funny as well.

You broke their gaze and retreated to your room. Better to escape before you risked smelling anything awful.

***

It wasn't hard to tell when Peter found what was waiting in his bed that night. However, instead of girlish screams like the night he found the spider, he let out a cry of, "Gah! What the hell!?"

You grinned as you sat on your bed reading your book. Mantis was already fast asleep in her bed, and she stirred at the sound of Peter's cries just on the other side of the wall. After looking toward you and seeing you sitting calmly she determined there must not be any danger and soon fell back to sleep.

A few minutes later, though, you were surprised to see Peter walking into your room.

Startled at the sudden intrusion you jolted and as he approached you, rather quickly at that, you said, "Hey- what are you doing?"

He stopped in front of you with a smirk and raised his arms. It was then you realized he had been carrying a shirt bunched up as if it were being used as a sack.

Unceremoniously he emptied the shirt/sack over your head, showering you with all the pinecones you had hid in his bed.

"Hey!" you complain, raising your good arm to shield your head from the coniferous onslaught.

Mantis stirred again, lifting her head to see what was going on.

"This is for leaving those in my bed." he laughed, turning to leave. "And don't think that counts as me getting you back!" he added as he stepped out the door.

Mantis yet again laid back down to rest upon seeing the disturbance was just Peter's shenanigans. You got the feeling that she must be used to it.

***

The next couple days were mostly spent with you and Peter battling back and forth via small pranks.

Yondu obviously noticed, and despite him acting like he didn't want the two of you to get started again, he didn't say or do anything to stop it. It was clear it was keeping your mind off what what had been bothering you, so he just let the two of you be. Especially as it seemed to be harmless.

Kraglin mostly stayed out of it this time. Sure, he helped Peter some, but he was still more likely to bend to Yondu's orders of "This prank war is over!" from last time. That, and he still felt bad about what happened with the incident with the spider, even if it had been mostly Peter's idea.

Peter got you with the old 'shoulder tap misdirection' a couple times, where he'd tap one shoulder and either be on the other side when you turned to look, or have walked away completely.

You hit back by turning the batteries backwards in the remote, knowing he'd likely be the first to use it that morning.

After he finally figured that one out, he decided he'd retaliate by turning all your books backwards on the shelf. When you walked in that evening to see him mid-prank, you simply sighed and rolled your eyes. Seemingly embarrassed to have been caught mid-prank he laughed nervously and straightened up, rubbing the back of his head.

You rolled your eyes and left the room, hoping that since he'd been caught he'd then turn them back right way round. Knowing it was unlikely, you decided to shove some newspaper in his shoes. You could hear Drax in the background laughing at Peter for getting caught as you walked away to retrieve an old newspaper from the table in the hall.

He clearly must have found it at some point the next morning because he got you back around lunchtime by pouring just a little bit of water in your seat right before you sat down to eat.

You jumped from your seat the moment you felt the cold water soak the left side of your ass and after a few seconds of reaching back to feel the wet spot and checking the chair you looked over to where he was sitting and narrowed your eyes.

He simply grinned at you like he had pulled the best prank ever.

Taking a breath, you straightened and just shook your head, warning him that he shouldn't escalate unless he wanted you to do the same.

He didn't seem to take your warning seriously.

***

The next morning when getting ready you saw that Peter had struck again. You didn't know when, or how he had managed to find the time to both sew a pair of your socks shut halfway down with sloppy grey stitches and place them back in your dresser (on top so they'd be first picked, of course) without you noticing, but you did know that this meant double war.

He had pranked you twice in a row, without waiting for you to have retaliated against his last prank first. Or, more likely, he had set this prank and then pulled another without waiting for you to find the first one. Tsk, Tsk, Peter. Bad form.

You found another pair of socks, luckily he had only bothered to adulterate one pair, and then went to confront him.

"You're really asking for it." you say, thrusting the socks towards him in the hall.

"What?" he asked. Trying to act innocent, no doubt.

"You sewed my socks shut. I warned you, don't escalate unless you want me to do the same."

There wasn't really any anger in your voice despite your warning tone, which Peter took as a good sign. "I didn't escalate-"

"Oh-ho! Don't try that with me! You double pranked!" As the words left your mouth you internally cringed. This reminded you of how the two of you had bickered like children in the grocery store. You pushed the feeling that you sounded like a teenager in a Disney sitcom aside for now.

Peter eyed you for a moment before crossing his arms and smugly replying, "Technically no. You interrupted my book prank and then stuffed paper in my shoes. So, because I technically didn't finish my prank, you double pranked."

"No-" you started.

"Yes." He laughed. "So if anyone escalated, it was you." He said in a teasing voice, aiming a couple pokes to your abdomen and making you flinch back at the touch.

"I did not!" you argued, smacking his hand away.

"Eh... ya kinda did..." he drawled out with a grin. "So, I think that means you gave permission for all unwritten rules of pranking to just be thrown out the window." He chuckled, a mischievous glint to his eyes.

"No-" you said warningly. "I did not." You could tell he was just trying to piss you off, but you weren't going to let him win.

"Yeah, I think you did..." He lightly laughed. "So anything else that happens... you'll only have yourself to blame." He said the last bit in a sing-songy voice and went to walk into the kitchen. He stopped momentarily and turned back to you with a grin. "However, you can always avoid any further annoyance by just declaring me the prank master..."

You blinked at him. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me. Declare I'm the prank master and you won't have to worry about what I'll do next."

You scoffed at him. "You're dreaming."

Peter grinned wider. "Nope. I'm just 'The Prank Master.'"

You narrowed your eyes and walked past him into the kitchen. "You're gonna regret that," you warned, earning only a chuckle from him. There was no way you were going to declare him master of anything.

You made your way to the pantry to find something quick for breakfast and Peter went to pour himself some coffee.

That's when you found it. Your next prank idea. And boy, was it going to be good.

While grabbing a pop-tart from the pantry, you happened to notice a certain box of gel food dye sitting next to your spices. Your eyes lit up, knowing exactly what you would do with it. You quickly pocketed the blue vile and hid the rest of the box behind the spices where it couldn't be seen for security purposes, just in case Peter would happen to have the same idea. You weren't going to do it right away, but knew it couldn't hurt to have the little bottle on hand just in case...

***

After breakfast you decided to head out to the shed to survey the pile of spare wood you had.

In the shed you found Rocket. This wasn't surprising as he spent a decent amount of time tinkering in the shed since you showed him the workshop. You still hadn't gotten around to finding the spare key for him, just letting him continue to use yours since there wasn't a lot you could do out there anyway until you got the brace off anyway.

You greeted him with a simple, "Hey," that Rocket returned as you made your way back to the spare wood to look over what you had on hand as far as repairing the old tunnel door to get an idea of what might you need to pick up from town.

Was it useful to look now seeing as you likely wouldn't get the brace off for at least a couple more weeks? No, but you were restless and you were really just looking for an excuse for something to do until that night when you could enact your prank.

"Whatcha doing?" Rocket asked, barely looking up from whatever plans he was drafting up on the old pad of paper you left out in the workshop.

"Nuttin," you reply, finishing up your shifting around of the wood and determining that you might have just enough of the right cuts already out there to make a full door, but you might need to pick up some more wood for it, as well as some brackets, later.

Rocket grunted in response and you start to walk back out when something caught your eye over by the long workbench.

You looked down to examine it, and a slight smile played on your lips.

"Did you fix my stool?" you asked, turning to him.

He didn't look up. "Nope."

You raise an eyebrow, mouth twitching upwards in humor. "Oh really? Then who did, if not you? Other than me, you're the only one who comes out here."

Rocket's gaze remained on the notebook. "Dunno. Must have been a 'stool fairy.'" Those last two words were laced with sarcasm.

You smirked. "Ah. I see. Well if you happen to see this 'stool faery,' be sure to tell him I said thank you." You turn and begin to walk out of the shed.

Rocket's ears twitched back for just a second and he grunted out in response, "Uh huh. Sure thing."

***

Unfortunately the stars didn't align that night for you to use the gel coloring on Peter. You had to time it just right to both make sure no one got caught in the crossfire and to not make it obvious you were up to something.

This, however, was probably for the best because Fury's visit the next day caught you off guard. You had been so busy pranking and being pranked and researching door construction and tunnel maintenance that you had managed to lose track of the days and didn't realize it was time for another weekly check-in until you heard him knock at the door that late afternoon. The sound actually startled you at first, and you mentally cursed him for insisting on keeping the times he'd show up a surprise.

Again, probably for the best you weren't able to pull that prank. You weren't sure how pleased Fury would be with you if he saw what you had planned to do to Peter if you had succeeded in going through with it.

The visit was brief. Same old news about the Guardian's situation; nothing changed, little to no progress made. It was time to re-stock the rations again and the guys helped Maria with that like last time. The doctor also accompanied them, and of course he ignored your case for removing the brace and instead just set the hinge to a slightly increased range of movement. He did say that as long as you continued your 'good behavior' it might be ready to come off the next week. You weren't going to hold your breath. Oh, and he also increased your weight restriction to ten pounds. Yay...

At one point Agent Hill pulled you aside like last time, wanting to check in to see if matters regarding your mental health had improved since the last visit.

You answered honestly that they had, but didn't bother to mention that the reason why was likely because Peter had managed to keep you annoyed enough that you didn't have time to dedicate enough thought to what had previously been bothering you.

She tried to pry more, but you weren't really giving her anything, so she just resigned that what she had been able to garner was good enough and the two of you rejoined the group just before Fury announced they would be leaving.

***

It didn't take long after they left for Peter to resume being his annoying self.

You were in the sitting room trying to read, but Peter kept singing along to a song on his Zune that he had come to realize you absolutely hated. To make matters worse, it seemed that he was intentionally singing as poorly as he could just to annoy you. He even got Kraglin to join in with him.

How could you tell it was just to annoy you? Well it didn't start with the singing. It started with tapping. Constant tapping. With his foot on the floor. With his knuckles on the coffee table. He even came up behind you at one point after you refused to react and started tapping you on the head as you sat curled on the sofa attempting to read. That one finally got you to react and scold him to knock it off, and that's when he switched to singing.

Of course, you told him to take it somewhere else. Did he listen? No. He instead moved to sit right next to you and sang louder.

You threatened to chop him in the throat if he didn't take his annoying self somewhere else, and while that got him to stand up, he didn't leave. Instead that's when he recruited Kraglin, who had walked in just a few moments prior to see what all the racket was, and who also didn't hesitate to accept an earbud from Peter and follow his lead.

You tossed your head back on the sofa in frustration and let out a growl as you gritted your teeth.

Peter broke his singing to laugh and tell you that he warned you, all you had to do to make it stop was admit his was the master.

And that's when you threw the pillow at him.

Well, you had been aiming for him, at least. You would have hit him too, had he not dodged at the last second, allowing for the pillow to instead smack Yondu, who no one had noticed had walked into the room, right in the face.

Your eyes widen, as do Peter's and Kraglin's. Only they're trying not to laugh as Yondu's stony face stares at you.

In your startled shock you stammer as you attempt to make an apology, but as he picks the pillow up from the floor all you are actually able to get out is, "I- Uh- I didn't mean-" and a nervous giggle.

Yondu stands back up, pillow now in his hands, and cocks his head at you. "Oh so ya think that's funny, huh?" He starts to walk towards you.

You of course deny it, trying to set the record straight that it had been meant for Peter, but the glint of a playful grin mixed with his grouchy façade made you unable to suppress a nervous grin as he approached. He then tossed the pillow back at you and you deflected it back onto the sofa.

"Nah, I think ya thought that was funny, even if it was meant for my boy." He was standing over you now and Peter and Kraglin were snickering as Peter encouraged him, saying that he thought you definitely thought it was funny to have hit Yondu with the pillow.

"Looks like someone needs to teach ya a lesson in manners, missy." Yondu said as he reached out and squeezed rapidly right above your knee.

Caught off guard you instantly throw back your head and cackle, your hands instinctively reaching for his as you kicked out. "No! Stop it!" you cry out between giggles before managing to free yourself and stand up from the sofa.

Abandoning your book you attempt to escape, but Yondu just grabs you by your good arm and pulls you back, effortlessly succeeding in securing you in a headlock and purposely arranging it so that your good arm was between the two of you and your braced arm was out to the open. He knew with the limited range of motion the braced arm had available you wouldn't really be able to use it to help free yourself in any meaningful way. He then proceeded to give you a noogie.

"Hey! Cut it out!" you complain, uselessly pushing against his shoulder from behind with your good arm. You cursed your arm brace. Without it you could have gotten out of this hold in 3 seconds tops. You still technically could, but didn't want to use that method unless you had to. You didn't want to risk hurting the older man, after all.

Yondu paused a moment and pretended to think. "...Nah. I didn't get an apology yet."

"Ugh! Fine! I'm sorry about the pillow! Happy? I already told you I meant it for Pe-TER!" You squeaked when Kraglin cheekily couldn't resist coming up to pinch your ribs in your current vulnerable state. "Knock that off!" you ordered. It of course only earned you another tickly squeeze from the first mate and the three men to laugh as you commanded Yondu to let you go before you made him.

"Ya ain't gonna make me do nuttin, missy." Yondu laughed, clearly believing he could take you in a fight any day even if your arm wasn't injured. "Where's my apology for when ya pranked the sink and it sprayed all over me?" Yondu asked with a mischievous chuckle. He then pinched your nose shut just to mess with you further. This prompted you to smack his shoulder with your good hand, but he did let go, laughing about how you were a 'feisty one.'

"Yeah," Peter egged on for the sink comment, laughing. "He yelled at me for that!"

You huff out a sigh. "Fine. Sorry for that too. Now this is your last warning to let me go!"

This only made Yondu and the other two laugh and Yondu went to noogie you again. Clearly they were underestimating you. Well, you did try to give him a warning...

In one quick motion you positioned your foot between his so that your leg was locked behind his thigh, reached your good arm up to rest your hand on his forehead, and threw your weight backwards, sending you both to the floor.

Yondu went easily, clearly having been caught off guard and landed on his back with an "oof!" and subsequently released you. Surprisingly though, he didn't seem angry about landing on the floor.

As you both sit up he was actually chuckling, to your surprise.

"Damn, didn't think ya had that in ya." Yondu laughed as he stood up.

Peter and Kraglin, who had went momentarily silent when the two of you fell, were now laughing again. Kraglin made a joke about how he didn't know you could actually fight.

You just grumbled and grabbed your book, deciding you would retreat to your room to finish reading for the night where you were less likely to be annoyed.

Ironically, the whole ordeal actually caused you to forget about the prank you had intended to pull on Peter until you again missed your chance to do it. Oh well, there was always tomorrow, right?

***

The next day you announced to those in the kitchen that you were making a run into town and told them if there was anything they needed to let you know now while you were making a list.

They didn't list-off much. Again, SHIELD provided them with pretty much everything they needed. Some razors, hair conditioner, lotion, and a couple requests for some Earth snacks they had come to enjoy were among the items requested. Simple stuff.

Then Yondu decided to be cheeky and claim his request was for you to take Peter with you again.

"No way," you say flatly, remembering the last run into town. "Not happening."

Yondu just grinned and leaned against his chair. "Fury said ya got to. Ya can't leave without a buddy 'til yer arm is healed up." He elbowed Kraglin and added, "Didn't he, Krags?"

Kraglin, clearly not expecting to be suddenly roped into the conversation said, "Uh, yeah. When you was in the other room talking to that Miss Agent Hill lady when they was here yesterday. He-uh- he told us then." He wasn't exactly the best liar.

You narrowed your eyes. "He did not." You looked to Gamora, who seemingly then immediately realized she had anywhere else to be before you could ask her to confirm.

"Ya can always ask him yerself." Yondu smirked, sure that like last time you wouldn't dare call Fury to confirm.

"Or I can not do that because I know he didn't," you countered.

"I wouldn't be too hasty girl," Yondu drawled. "'Cause what if I'm right? Ya leave without a buddy, and we can just call him and tell him ya broke his rules... and well, we all know what he said he'd do with ya if ya did that."

"You know, I didn't really take you to be such a snitch." You say, irritation clear in your voice. You knew it was at best childish, and at worst fighting words, but you were too frustrated to care.

Instead of being offended, Yondu just laughed and leaned back with his hands folded behind his head. "Gotta do something to pass the time. 'Sides, I think 'blackmail' has a nicer ring to it than 'snitchin'."

You glare at him, not giving him the satisfaction of telling him that he was technically right. This wasn't him being a snitch. This was blackmail. You just didn't understand why this was the hill he decided to die on.

He continued. "Yer better off to just save yerself the trouble and take Peter."

You eye him for a bit before deciding this time you would call his bluff. Partially because you knew he was lying, but also because a tiny part of you was afraid he wasn't, and you knew what would happen if he wasn't.

You dialed up Fury, knowing that the consequences for possibly annoying him with a dumb phone call were vastly less than what they'd be if you disobeyed an order, especially since you were already skating on thin ice. He also seemed to be less upset with you lately due to your 'good behavior,' so at least you had that going fo you. You almost thought you saw Yondu's smirk falter when you started dialing. Almost.

To your surprise, Fury answered after only a couple rings. You put the phone on speaker, and inform him your reason for calling was to confirm something that had been said.

"They're trying to tell me that when Agent Hill pulled me aside yesterday you instructed them to tell me that, under your orders, I am not allowed to drive into town without taking someone with me until my arm heals. Is that correct?"

Fury was quiet a moment before he answered, his voice seeming neutral. "I did not say that."

Yondu and Kraglin's faces fell slightly, and like a child you made a quiet, "Ha!" noise and stuck your tongue out at them, but before you could thank him, Fury spoke again.

"But I am now."

Your eyes widened and shot back to the phone, as if you'd be able to see your director in there. "I'm sorry, what?"

Yondu burst out laughing at your expression, and Kraglin joined in with a grin.

"Effective immediately I'm requiring you to bring a companion on any trips you make into town. Mr. Quill would be the safest choice, but as long as they pass for human, I don't care who it is."

You tried not to sputter. "Sir-... that-... Why-??"

"It's not a bad idea," he said cooly, adding, "and if you're gonna call me to settle a petty squabble then you better be prepared to get an outcome you aren't going to like." He didn't sound angry, more just matter-of-fact.

You blinked. Did he really just imply he was doing this just to annoy you? "Sir, I ask you to reconsid-"

"If you want to keep going, Agent, I can easily make this decision permanent."

This set off another round of laughter from the guys, including Peter from behind you who had walked into the kitchen with Gamora at some point. You didn't know how long they were standing there, but it seemed he had also heard Fury's decision.

With slight heat in your cheeks, you respond to your director. "No, sir."

"Good. Have a good day, Agent." Fury replied, and then hung up. If you didn't know better, you'd say his tone sounded almost amused.

You put the phone back in your pocket and rubbed your hand over your eyes while the others teased you.

"That's what ya get for not just listenin' to me in the first place, girl. Now ya really do have to do it!" Yondu laughed.

"I hate you," you say bluntly.

He only grinned in response and called over to Peter. "Ya heard the man, boy! Looks like yer takin' a trip!"

Peter grinned cheekily at you and you roll your eyes. "Fine. Get ready," you order as you walk past him and out of the kitchen. Then, seeing an opportunity to let out some frustration (probably misplaced in this instance, honestly) you turned back with a smirk and added, "This time don't forget to go potty before we leave!"

You turned away again, but not before being able to see the cheeky grin fall from his face and hear him yell back, "Not cool, dude!" along with some snickering from the others in the background.

Little did you know, though you probably should have, that decision to embarrass him would seal the fate of your nerves, and possibly your sanity as well, on the trip to come.

Office Hours

Pairing: Shouto Todoroki x Reader

warnings: CEO!Shouto AU, FEM! Anatomy, breeding kink, hair pulling, oral (m! receiving), unprotected sex, praise kink, slight voyeurism. 

Word Count: 2.6k

A/n: Took me all day to write, I even pulled an all nighter because the ideas were swarming inside of my head. So I was just chilling at two am with Rick and Morty on, typing away. Probably disturbing my neighbors and my roommate, but whatever.

This day had been mildly annoying. Your new coworker had claimed to have been sleeping with your boss, saying she would have you fired by giving him a blowjob, and then continued to shred the paperwork you had worked on all week. You were in near tears from the stressful events of this week, and everyone, including the bitch could see that if anything else went wrong, you would snap. You could clearly hear the annoying pitter-patter of the horrid woman's shoes against the black marble heading towards your cubicle, making you groan in exasperation. "What do you want, Neca?" You sigh, your bloodshot eyes glaring at her smug face. "I have to leave early, so you'll have my work" Your eye twitched. The audacity this lady had was getting on your last nerve. "I'm not doing your work after you shredded mine, especially if you'll get the credit. Now leave. I'm trying to finish my work so I can go home." You look back down to your work, but your head is suddenly yanked back up by your hair. "Go home to what, exactly? You're single, you have no kids and no pets. You can put in the extra hours, and you don't need the extra money. So stop being a bitch, and get over it. I have a date with the boss, so I'll be leaving now" Neca slams down a fresh stack of papers for you to revise and categorize and walks over to the elevator, leaving you here to deal with her work. You looked at the clock on your desk, seeing that in only two hours it would be midnight. Era, too late for you to be at work. You yawn and take your pencil back in your hand to begin your reviewing, already dreading the outcome of this night.

At around 11:30, you got up to go to the breakroom for a new cup of coffee, and you swore you could feel your eyebags darkening by the second. Everyone had left at about 11:00, which left you here completely by yourself. Even the janitor had checked out for the night, handing you the building keys and telling you to lock up when you go home. You take a big swig of the luke-warm beverage, praying to the gods that you would finish your work faster so you could get some sleep. You look out the break-room window at the 12-inch stack of documents you had to look over, realizing you'd be lucky if you got to leave at 3:00. You gulp down half of the coffee, toss the empty disposable cup into the trash bin, and tread back to your personal hellhole. You were concentrating as hard as you could, but even when you were zoned out, you could clearly hear the sound of the elevator going up, and stopping at your floor. Your eyes widen, looking over to the clock that read 1:00 am and then trying to think of who would be here this late but only came up with fear and panic. You shake wildly as you watch the polished silver doors slide open slowly, and then you see the expensive leather shoes step out. Your breath hitched. You were somehow more afraid than before, seeing your boss look over to you, and begin to walk over. He stopped in front of your chair, looking down on you with suspicion and confusion in his eyes. "What are you doing here so late, L/n?" Your throat quickly becomes dry, making it harder to speak. "I, um, p-paperwork." You attempt to explain, pointing to the now 10-inch tall pile with a quivering finger. "I didn't give you that much, who's work is that?" His deep voice asked. "Neca's, Mr. Todoroki. She said you guys had a date and asked me to finish up her paperwork. I'm sorry if I'm disturbing you." You explain, regaining your once lost composure. "We did not have a date. What happened here, is that she played you." Your brows furrow in frustration. So the hours you put in were for absolutely nothing? The fear of getting fired, the times she left because of the 'bosses demands', were all fake? "I...I'll finish it anyway, Mr. Todoroki. I promise I won't take too long." You mumble, turning back to the documents with clenched teeth. "No, I will call her right now. If she is going to rearrange your sleep schedule, I will rearrange hers." our heart warms at his kindness, as you thank him for his generosity. Todoroki pulls out an expensive-looking phone, scrolling for a while before holding it out, and putting it on speaker. On the second ring, Neca picks up. "Yes, Mr.Todoroki? Do you need me to come over or...?" She seemed insistent on wanting to come over to his home, but your boss shuts her down rapidly. "No. After many, many complaints and reports from the other employees, it has come to my attention that you have been passing your work onto Y/n L/n, as well as destroying the companies sacred files. I have called to confirm these suspicions." You both could hear shuffling on the other end on the line, and then you heard the buttered up voice speak. "Did Y/n tell you this? I didn't want you to find out this way, but Y/n has been skipping out on work and burning the company files. I didn't tell you because Y/n is such a dear friend to me and I didn't want her to get fired." Her obnoxiously fake sympathetic voice made you want to gag in disgust. The faux voice was way too sweet for her contrasting personality and the word 'friends' left a bitter taste in your mouth. "Oh? Well, if that's true then I have some interesting news. I'm at the office right now, looking at Y/n who has an 11-inch stack of papers that I certainly did not give to her. And by looking at one of the documents," Todoroki picks up one of the stapled worksheets and flips through it briefly before continuing. "These look like the oriented reference materials I asked you to finish before you left. Now, if you do not come to the office right now to complete your and Y/n's workload, I will fire you, and ruin all future opportunities for you to get a job. Am I clear?" The line goes silent, but then you hear a light sobbing sound accompanying a meek 'yes, boss'. He hung up and then gestured you into his workroom, silently closing the door behind him. "L/n, how long has this been going on for?" Todoroki asked calmly, sitting down in his exquisite black leather chair. "A week after she came here, sir." When you added the sir on the end, he seemed to flinch, shifting in his seat uncomfortably. "I see. Why didn't you inform me of this?" You take notice of how he had crossed his legs. It was almost as if he were trying to hide something from you, and that fact made you internally grin. "She said she was your lover, sir, and I didn't want to be fired for claiming against her." The CEO glares at you, warning you to not step further into this. "I can happily say that we are not in a relationship, nor are we participating in any...fun, activities." A playful glint flashes in your captivating orbs, seizing the boss's attention. "I am glad to hear that sir. Shall I take my leave then?" Todoroki's jaw stiffens, and his eyes darken. "Only if you want to. But I believe it to be bad to drive when tired, you could always sleep here, for convenience reasons." You wanted to agree. But you knew that Neca would arrive here shortly, and if you slept here, she would surely do something to get back at your tattling. "I'm not very tired, sir." You remark, standing to make an emphasis. Todoroki stands as well, showing off his delicious-looking bulge forming in his black slacks. "Oh really?" He walks around his desk, eyeing you like a predator would its prey. "Is there a problem, sir?" You ask, a smirk present in your expression. "No, but I think that I'll have to make you tired. You know, for convenience reasons." His face was a mere inch from yours, his breath gently fanning your face. He finally took initiative and grabbed the back of your neck to bring you into an electrifying kiss that made every nerve in your body tingle. You were swiftly flipped around and sat on his desk, your legs wrapped around his torso as he hungrily forced his tongue onto yours. They slid across each other in unison, sending hot flashes throughout both of your bodies at the amazing contact. "Mr.Todoroki, Neca will-" "What happened to sir?" Todoroki purred, sliding his warm hands up your blouse and playing with the hem of your bra. You start softly panting as they glide to your back, fiddling with the clasp. "S-Sir, Neca will be here any min-" "Stop being a brat, I'll deal with her when she gets here. But I think you should deal with the problem you made." Todoroki unbuttons his trousers, stripping himself of them before placing your hand on his clothed cock. "Why don't you get to work, and I might reward you with a bonus." You pushed down his black boxers, almost drooling when you see the length and girth of his dick. It was almost unreal, it couldn't be. He was huge and heavy. Even with him being fully erect his cock drooped and hung right above your mouth. You were starting to even wonder if he could fit inside of you. Todoroki was staring at you expectantly, so you carefully lifted your chin to take the head into your mouth and looked up at him with big, doe eyes. A subtle grunt is produced from your actions and you decide to take it a step further. You guide his dick down your throat, feeling his width stretch out the walls of your windpipe and block your source of oxygen. You pull back, watching as strings of your salvia extend from his cock to your mouth, a low groan emitting from your boss at the sight. You take him back in, this time moaning around him for added effect and enjoying how his hands thread their way into your hair a glide you along his impressive dick. It was then that you began to hear the familiar sound of the elevator opening, and the annoying pitter-patter of shoes you have learned to hate. It seemed that Todoroki heard it too, but he only pushed you down deeper and leered at the way you gagged and squirmed. The clicking of Neca's shoes came to a halt as she shoved the door open with such haste you were surprised it didn't break. "Mr. Todoroki, please forgive me, I promise it won't happen again-" Your watery eyes open to give her a petty glare, releasing another moan around your boss so she could watch the way his eyes roll back in pure and utter pleasure at the vibrations you gave off. Neca's face turned a bright red at your bold decision and let out a high-pitched huff of anger. The irony of this situation was so satisfying. You flipped her off, making her storm out of the room, still enraged. That was until your boss yelled something to her "Neca, you still have to finish the documents you passed onto Y/n." You got no response, but you honestly didn't care at this point. She could hear you guys going at it like animals if she wanted to, but as far as you're concerned, she doesn't exist. You were yanked up and you look down to see that his cock was completely covered in your spit. "I think you deserve a reward, baby."  You were forced onto the desk chest first, your skirt flipping up making your panties on display for him to see. "I bet you have the cutest little cunt under these thin panties." He pressed two fingers against the damp fabric, swiping against your clothed slit before getting fed up and tearing them off. Todoroki kneeled, blowing cool air onto your soaked pussy and watching as you try to push your hips back onto his face. Your hole was clenching around nothing and it was practically driving Shouto against the wall. He got back up, stroking himself a few times before poking at your hole with his tip. He leaned his head into your ear with his chest pressed against your back, his breath making your heart race faster. "I'm going to fucking ruin you." He pushed himself in halfway, rocking his hips in a steady motion and chuckling at your small pathetic moans. "I'm not even all the way in and you're whining. Do you even want my dick?" You nod vigorously, trying to move backward to sheath the rest into your weeping cunt. "You want it all in? Use your words, pretty girl." He prolongs his movements and observes that way you try to fuck yourself on his cock, your orbs starting to form more tears from the lack of stimulation. "Please sir, I want to be stuffed full by your big cock." You whimper, letting his hand grasp at your strands of hair once more. Growling, he shoves the rest of his awaiting member inside of you, basking in the way your walls fluttered and twitched from the intrusion. "Good girl. Now let me use you the way I want to, little thing." He starts rapidly pounding into you, with your poor cervix being mercilessly rammed against in the process. "How's it feel getting railed like this, huh? You know, I could really use an heir to the company." Your pants began to mix with your moans, and you could tell your orgasm was coming on strong. You couldn't even warn Todoroki because right as you were about to tell him, you felt him nudge that special spot that made you see stars. And after that, you had no choice but to release. You expected Shouto to pause and let you rest after that intense orgasm, but he fucked you through your release and yanked on your hair harder, overstimulating you easily. "S-S-Shouto." You stammered, feeling his dick pulsate inside of you. Todoroki started pistoning his hips into yours at a more brutal pace, seeing you come undone for the second time. "I'm gonna fuck you full of my cum, and you're gonna be my pretty little girlfriend. How's that sound?" A gurgled yes left your mouth, too far gone to even properly validate his question. A loud groan echoed through the room as spurts of your boss's hot semen shot into your unprotected womb with full intention of getting you pregnant. You lie there, panting for a while before he picks you up, and sets you on the small leather couch in the corner. "I promise that Neca will no longer bother you. And that you and our child will have the best luxuries in the world." He murmurs, lying down in front of you and petting your moist hair. "I'm glad this happened, Shouto." He chuckled. "Yeah. Me too." The dreaded sound of the elevator returned, and this time, you could hear many voices chatting. You look over at your newfound lover's desk to read the time. 5:00 am. Also known as, office hours.

So You Want To Play A Fairest

(Portrait of Erin Peters by cantankerousAquarius. The character originally appeared in Night Horrors: Grim Fears, published by White Wolf; catch my take on her in New Avalon)

Previous Articles: So You Want To Play A Beast, So You Want To Play A Wizened, So You Want To Play An Elemental, So You Want To Play An Ogre, & So You Want To Play A Darkling

You ever wonder, flipping through a Monster Manual for D&D, or a Bestiary for Pathfinder, why nymphs and hags are both always, always, women? It’s older than you know. Dig into the sordid history of tabletops and you’ll find sylphs that Gary Gygax wrote, Chaotic charmers who use mind control to reproduce with non-sylph men; you’ll find the legacy of the matriarchal drow, who follow a mad goddess, and you’ll find the medusae, whose sexual dimorphism is so complete that their men are beautiful and can turn stone into people.

Dredge deeper and you’ll find the tales that Gygax and his wretched ilk based such creatures off of.

You ever wonder why we assign such powerful Gender to creatures of beauty and horror?

Fairest don’t. They know, every time they wake up from a nightmare that is also a wet dream. They know, every time they get hit on at the bar and have to decide how they’re playing this. They know, every time they look in a mirror and see not their own face, but the ten thousand horrors that made it beautiful.

If you are very patient, and lucky, and kind, they might tell you why.

If you aren’t, they may show you.

This article draws primarily on Changeling: the Lost and Winter Masques, as well as Swords at Dawn and Night Horrors: Grim Fears. Other sources, when used, will be cited. It requires Content Warnings for sexual violence, sexual slavery, abuse, gaslighting, addiction, substance abuse, self-harm, self-image problems, mentions of fascists & fascist ideology, and just, so very much incel bullshit.

Bonus Material Part Two: The Seeming Part

The end of this article, just past the customary Sample Fairest, will include some additional material intended to help you select a Seeming for your character and otherwise build them up as one of the Lost, much as So You Want To Run A Spring Court included material for Courts as a topic.

Take Me To Wonderland - Fairest Overview

Fairest is the fourth Seeming presented in Changeling: the Lost and possibly the most confused about its own identity. Its sections in Winter Masques present depths and nuance that are completely absent in core, essentially making Winter Masques required reading for Fairest players in a way that no other book is - especially since Fairest keep getting written in a particular way alluded to in the Ogre article, which I will expand on later in this article. Fairest is numerically well-represented in canon and popular in the fanbase, home to many memorable character concepts, but its bones with folklore and tradition are weaker than it fronts as.

Ogres and Darklings claim an innate relationship to physical violence; so too do the Fairest claim a relationship to violence. The violence of Perception and its dark twin, Judgement; of Rumor and its mad dog, Prejudice, the violence of Lies and their merciless master, Truth. Fairest, alone among the Lost, have casual access to the resources of a society that refuses to service or acknowledge Changelings, and with access to that society comes both opportunity and temptation. To be Fairest is to wield power that many other Lost cannot, but the opportunity that power offers is a lie; a Fairest can smile until her face breaks like a mirror, but she’ll never be “sane” enough for the masses to see her as anything but a useful pet.

Life’s Lush Lips - Homecoming As A Fairest

Fairest can make the dubious claim of having the least clear memories of Arcadia amongst all the Lost, with Darklings and Beasts jockeying for second place. This isn’t to say that the experiences Fairest have are necessarily more intense or more inherently traumatic than that of other Lost, but rather that the abuse Fairest suffer is so emotional, so targeted at their perception of their selves and their situations and their self-image, that the memories which do form are inevitably colored by those emotions, coloring the dreams they have of Arcadia with both the emotional resonances they had at the time and with their later attempts to grapple with their own trauma and transformation. For many Fairest, who cannot trust even their strongest memory dreams, attempts to understand their own Durance must rely either on the word of their Keepers (and Faeries lie, oh, how they lie), or on reverse-engineering their own behavior to try and conceive of a trauma that could cause it.

Inevitably, however, some things are seared into their minds. For almost all Fairest, their Keeper is high on the list of things they remember with absolute clarity. Other facts, shattered and scattered, vary more widely. Erin Peters remembers stretched years kept in a cold, dark room lit only by her own hatred; every detail of her cell is scorched onto the back of her eyes, but the otherworldly balls her Keeper took her to blur together like food coloring in syrup. The slaves of the Candle Countess have terrible nightmares of the choices they were confronted with, the decision, offered over and over again, to become complicit in the Countess’s cruelty or to be victimized by it. Metallic Flowering from the Shining City struggle not to use drugs to mimic the rush of pleasure they’ve grown used to receiving for performing their jobs well; they also scream in terror if people touch them. A Draconic and a Shadowsoul both remember being used for the sexual pleasure of alien horrors; the one dreams of coiled scales and terrible teeth, the other a lifetime of lurking in an alien maze, tasked to perform the duties of a living trap for the “wicked” and “unwary” who had not yet shed the last vestiges of kindness.

There are no “wild” Fairest. For worse and worse still, to be Fairest is to have been defined by the inescapable and all-consuming attentions of your abuser, and it is this more than anything that other Lost so often fail to understand about the Fairest. Their Keepers heap them with reward and punishment, manipulating the Fairest with honeyed praise, godly wrath, gaslighting, neglect, withholding food, wondrous rewards, drugs from beyond the realms of earthly pleasure, and other hooks and crooks designed to make the Fairest dependent upon their abuser. It is hideously effective, and the first obstacle, maybe even the mightiest, that a Fairest faces to their escape is the simple horror and joy of being alone again. Their masters will try other tricks to keep them in place - tempting them with pleasures, horrific punishments, oh-so-sincere apologies - but before a Fairest can escape into the Hedge she must face, in her mind’s eye, the lonely flight back to the Iron Lands.

The memories that draw Fairest home often have parallels to their experiences in Arcadia. A slave in the Shining City bites into an otherworldly pastry and recalls her grandmother’s pie in its place; the bride of the Demon Lover, curled up under the sheets, thinks about the broken smile of the boyfriend she left behind at home. A Dancer remembers the roller rink where he fell in love with skating, while across the endless tides of the Fairest of Lands, a Shadowsoul holds on like grim death to years of work at haunted houses, scaring kids for fun and for Halloween. Fairest, so famous for their skill at words, struggle to articulate to other Lost why this should be so. Darklings assume it’s because these memories are less intense than Arcadia, and that the Fairest are fleeing to safety. Beasts get it a bit more right by thinking that these memories taste like home. The truth of the matter is that those memories have an intrinsic and nameless meaning; the highs and lows of Arcadia are divine, flawless, absolute, and therefore worthless. They are the proclamations of merciless gods. What draws the Fairest home, more than pain and pleasure they can have on their own terms, is the understanding that those gestures - for weal or for woe or for anything else besides - were made because someone cared about them, personally. Once they fully internalize that their abuser views them as disposable, the Fairest comes home to someone who won’t.

Three Kiths And Flowering Is One And A Half Of Them - Fairest Kiths

Yeah we’re about to be like that about it.

All Fairest can excel in the social arena; their Blessing can be used to flare almost every social roll in the game, and Fairest can never be caught off-guard in a social context (they suffer no untrained penalties to social rolls). With the sole exception of Empathy (usually rolled with Wits) and sometimes Streetwise, there’s no time a Fairest can’t fall back on their words and expect to win through or at least buy time. This is, as you might imagine, a godsend when it comes to attempts to pass in mortal society; Fairest can usually front, charm, bluff, or Manners(tm) their way through things like renting an apartment, nailing a job interview, asking their roommate to do the FUCKING DISHES, or getting stopped by a cop, but both the books and the fanbase miss something here. While Fairest are superb at active social events, they’re no better at keeping a lid on themselves (Composure-based rolls) than mortals are - and given both the nature of their trauma and the fact that they are, you know, Lost, Fairest have a lot more to keep a lid on day-to-day than the human society they’re trying to blend into. Thankfully, Fairest are pretty good at being able to politely leave a situation and go somewhere else to scream, shout, cry, or have a psychotic break, as appropriate.

Of course, Fairest can’t make something from nothing. As discussed in So You Want To Play An Ogre, you can’t win a social game someone else refuses to sit down to, and social rolls shouldn’t be mind control. All the Glamour in the world can’t make your roommate do the FUCKING DISHES if they’re deep in the throes of executive dysfunction, nor can it make the cashier at Walgreens fail to card you for wine when their computer literally won’t advance without an ID. People who are keyed up about honeyed words or whose own trauma came at the hands of manipulators and abusers might refuse to play that game on the terms the Fairest is setting, which makes it hard to, as it were, turn this problem into a nail. Lurking down this path as well is the specter of becoming like the masters who made you this way; if you get used to saying what will get people to listen to you, eventually you start seeing people as enrichment puzzles that dispense the things you want. Madness waits down that road, and it waits for Fairest with a giant spiked bat, thanks to their Seeming Curse.

There’s no pretty way to say this so I won’t: Fairest are always on the verge of losing their minds. Their curse hits them with a flat penalty to all rolls against losing Clarity, which means that Fairest lose Clarity faster than other Lost and they do so more consistently. This necessitates a balancing act with avoiding becoming heartless manipulators; Fairest must engage in control-seeking behavior in order to stay mentally well, must be able to trust and rely on people close to them, structure their lives, and anticipate important changes or they end up on the fast way down. Other Lost often don’t understand this need or the Fairest curse to begin with, and so Fairest end up in unofficial support groups for one another, similar to those run by Darklings except no one will admit it’s a support group even at gunpoint. Woe fucking betide the friend or life partner who gets between a Fairest and her “book club”, “girls’ night”, “D&D campaign”, or other excuse for this vital community support.

Fairest Kiths are...bad. They’re bad. This is the part of the article where I’m supposed to talk about thematics and symbolism and metaphor, and I cannot do that here, because they are bad. Fairest has three viable Kiths that are actual Fairest Kiths, one that’s a Beast Kith who got lost and wound up here by fucking mistake, and a pile of garbage bigger than my self-esteem problems. I’m almost tempted to only talk about those four Kiths and save myself the time but I suppose I should show the work like I’ve done for all the other Seemings, so here we fuckin’ go I guess.

Flowering - This is it. This is the Fairest Kith. If you want to roll any other kind of Fairest you must first pass the trial of justifying why you’re not playing Flowering. In theory, Flowering draws its mythic heritage from nymphs and dryads, charming flower sprites, Knights of Flowers, and the like, but in practice Flowering’s only mechanical effect is 9-again on Persuasion, Socialize, and Subterfuge with no qualification or requirement, which doesn’t just make you better at everything Fairest is good at, it makes you better when you spend Glamour to flare it too. Want to represent a biobahn sith’s hypnotic dance? Flowering works. Want to create a vampiric Fairest with a sultry voice? Here comes Flowering. The siren at the bar who smells like sea air and gunpowder? Flowering. Everything is Flowering. Even the things that aren’t Flowering are Flowering because all Fairest Kiths have a social focus, which is Flowering’s undisputed arena of mastery.

Bright One - In theory, Bright Ones represent beings of light in the vein of Victorian fey (which...ugh...Victorians), but their Goblin Illumination is, how you say, useless, only becoming vaguely useful for a total of 2 Glamour as a passive defense that took you 2 turns to set up. Anything you want to represent here can be found in Flowering and with Elements or Communion (Light).

Dancer - You know how Flowering gives you bonuses on all social rolls? Would you like those same bonuses but on 1 less skill and only on rolls that “involve physical grace”? No? Run Flowering here and give your character a Dance specialty in one or more skills.

Draconic - One of the game’s premier melee options and a Beast Kith who took a wrong turn and ended up getting a free makeover intended for someone else. Draconic in theory represents Fairest as dragons, monster girls, demons, and in general at their most physical, but that idea sorta...falls down a bit? Draconic’s bonuses are all about Brawl and all the sample Draconics are swordsmen, which might suggest to the discerning reader that someone in the office wasn’t reading their own fucking game. Draconic Fairest don’t make bad melee boys if you invest in Lethal Mien, but honestly this is Dual Kith bait; slap it on your Hunterheart or your Razorhand and go apeshit.

Muse - Close but no cigar. In theory Muses are, well, muses; figures of inspiration, mentorship, teaching, creative fire. Their Kith Blessing is strong but requires access to mortals, which is complicated and roundabout on the best of days. If you have an idea that you think is Muse-shaped, use Playmate instead.

Flamesiren - Behold, we enter the realm of Okay(tm). Flamesirens are what Bright Ones wanted to be, and their hypnotic aura is actually a pretty neat tool; with cunning you can make it a one-sided penalty, and even if you don’t it’s an interesting method of de-escalating a social or combat situation by subjecting everyone to the tar pit that is your presence. If your concept involves light and color and you’re resistant to Flowering, Flamesiren will do more than nothing.

Polychromatic - Polychromatics don’t have a lot of roots in mythology; their modern inspirations are, well, Manic Pixie Dream Girls. But they get a shout-out here for being the only Fairest Kith who can muster up decent emotional defenses; not only can they magically boost their Composure rolls (and non-Composure rolls to resist magical and mundane emotional attacks for that matter), but others get a flat penalty to Empathy rolls against them, which makes them talented dissemblers. You’re still probably better off with Flowering - in a world of passive Kith Blessings, Polychromatic’s is extra passive - but I can see this Kith passing muster, and even being worth the two dots to Dual Kith in-house.

Shadowsoul - This one’s insane. Ostensibly Fairest Does Darkling, Shadowsouls get their Wyrd to Intimidate rolls which could be the whole Kith on its own and still be worth the slot, but in addition to that they get 9-again on Subterfuge (matching Flowering and Darklings there) and access to Contracts of Darkness, one of the most powerful in the game line, as an Affinity Contract. Is your Fairest spooky? Would you like them to be spooky? Here’s your one-stop shop.

Telluric - This is a Kith made of ribbon bonuses. In theory related to stars and celestial light, Telluric’s bonuses to rolls “with precise timing” isn’t...really worth considering. Run ‘em as Flamesiren and move on.

Treasured - In theory also able to muster emotional defenses, Treasured are Fairest who are literally made into works of art. They’re Okay(tm) but in their niche are beaten out by Polychromatic with a better effect for less resources.

Playmate - The last Real Fairest Kith(tm), Playmate appears in Night Horrors: Grim Fears where White Wolf tries to sell it as Peter Pan, but its powerful team-oriented bonuses mean that Playmates are useful anywhere Muse is wanted and more places besides. The front woman of an indie rock band could be a Playmate; so too could be an idealized baseball captain, the director at your local theater, the middle manager of a sinister conspiracy, or the night shift lead at a research lab. Do people do a thing in teams? Playmate does that thing.

And She Had Huge Titties, I Mean Massive Badondadonks, Absolutely Enormous Bazoggahoggas - Lost’s Canon Fairest

Remember when I said we had to get back to this after So You Want To Play An Ogre? Now we’re getting back to this. I’m not gonna re-state my caveats from that article and I’m not really gonna go back over the bit about So White Wolf Was Run By Fucking Nazis because, in all honesty, I do not have the fucking time to restate all of that in new words. Give thanks that OPP got out alive and let’s get right down to it.

Fairest have a very consistent characterization in canon that is only really challenged in Winter Masques; the narrative put forth in Lost is that Fairest, being attractive, have an uncomplicated power which privileges their lives. Which is a rather bloodless way to describe how White Wolf kept writing and publishing Fairest as heartless abusers and manipulators getting their jollies and emotional needs met by casually destroying their fellow survivors, manipulating them through sex appeal, outright lies, cattiness, cruelty, and betrayal. Much as simply queering Ogre does not help Ogre in and of itself, queering Fairest only takes you from incel and Nazi propaganda about women into...incel and Nazi propaganda about twinks, femmes, & in general anyone with the temerity to be found attractive by straight white people.

I’m not bitter, you’re bitter.

So what do you do at your table, with your Fairest concept? Lemme open up by saying that like, Fairest qua Fairest is perfectly solid, and if it wasn’t there wouldn’t be an article here; Fairest has a lot to say for itself about feminized violence, about your personhood being reduced to a product for the consumption of others, about emotional abuse & neglect, gaslighting, and sexual assault, but the conclusion White Wolf arrives at (”Fairest have unalloyed power over mortal and Lost society and they abuse that power”) is super fucking obtuse and betrays a serious lack of concern for what the Fairest undergo. It ignores the way a Fairest’s ordeals will force her to confront her relationship to her own gender and alter her willingness and ability to be consumed, disconnect her from her former society while also isolating her from her new one, and these questions are important for you if you’re looking to play a ‘classic’ Fairest.

But that leaves some hanging questions. Male Fairest face the almost inescapable fate of “failing” maleness on patriarchal terms; even the most strapping, broad-chested, athletic Adonis of a Fairest has become a man of layered words and reflexive empathy, whose Manly Stoicism(tm) is a cracking facade at best and entirely abandoned in a more typical circumstance. Men who become Fairest thus face a second journey after their escape from Arcadia; confronting what being men means to them and building their gender identity back up from the rubble it’s become. The temptation to accept success on society’s terms is always going to be present, and it’s always going to be offered like it’s possible, but it’s a losing game for these Fairest; they simply cannot be the men that other men demand they become.

Now, the discerning and loyal reader is surely about to ask, hey Vox, where’s the butch Fairest I was promised back in the Ogre article, to which I respond WE’RE GETTING THERE but I gotta use this as a bridge to talk about something that cuts across Fairest of all genders, be they cis or trans. Lost 1e makes a lot of hay out of the idea that Fairest “are rarely conventionally attractive”, and core even provides some interesting written concepts for that...which make it into exactly none of the art. Every published Fairest is conventionally attractive for various definitions of conventional, be it as a supermodel or a waif, but that leaves the question of Fairest who genuinely are not - and, tragically, Fairest who were not, and were then made into someone more easily consumed by their Durance. You know what I’m about to say, and I know you know I’m about to say it, but I’m gonna say it anyway: all bodies are beautiful, but Fairest know well that beauty and attraction aren’t the same, and neither are beauty and happiness. All Fairest, from the roundest bear to the most wide-eyed waif, are the products of Keepers who valued their bodies in that state, and that idea is going to haunt them day in and day out for the rest of their extended lives. There is no such thing as a Fairest with an uncomplicated relationship to their body, and that White Wolf seems to think that an uncomplicated relationship is their default state is...disgusting, frankly.

Which brings us, at long last, to butch Fairest (also bear Fairest but I’m gonna stick with the one set of terms or I’m going to go mad and this will never be published), who have a complicated journey ahead of them. On the one hand, the assertion of control and ownership over their own bodies, their own identities, cannot be overstated. On the other hand, elements of those bodies are going to be completely out of their control; a nascent butch Fairest may well hit the gym to get swole only to discover that she literally, physically cannot, that she has been Assigned Dex Build At Durance. Hauling your corpse out of Arcadia with an extremely feminine appearance shaped by your Keeper might complicate attempts to present in a more masculine manner or even just to appear androgynous, and those complications can be discouraging. For those that stick to it, this journey will take them two places; one is the bared-teeth, bloody-knuckled assertion that this life is theirs and you can have it if you can fucking take it, and the other is into the ranks of the Freehold’s retained warriors, usually in Summer or Autumn, though a vibrant representation of Spring knights will make it seem as if Spring has more butch Fairest than it actually does. These Fairest are aware, or will become aware, of how much of their job involves de-escalating or pre-empting violence; a focus on Physical stats or skills is not necessarily common, but hyper-specialization therein likely is. A butch Fairest is a lot more likely to have, say, Brawl 4 (Multiple Opponents) and no other Physical skills than she is to have Brawl, Weaponry, Athletics, and Stealth, in part or in whole because her first weapon of choice is going to be an Intimidate roll.

At every turn you’re able to, challenge White Wolf’s narrative about Fairest by asking yourself what your Fairest wants, why they’re this way, what they’re frightened of, and how the way they behave relates back to these. They’re not products; they’re people, just as hurt and Lost as the rest of their peers.

Princesses And Pastries - Fairest In The Courts

Fairest have a complex relationship to the society of their fellow Lost. On the one hand, they have the same need for community, support, companionship, understanding, honesty, and material aid as all Lost; a Fairest is not magically proof against being homeless, against starving, against the dangers of existing in the modern world without things like a photo ID or car insurance, and Freeholds provide all of these things. On the other hand, the thing most Fairest fear most, even if they can’t articulate that fear, is their own power - social influence, emotional trust and betrayal, status, political power, and authority. Fairest are all too aware that being good at this game does not make them immune to it - after all, that’s the lesson they learned at the hands of their Keepers.

What follows from this is a complex dance of interactions that each Fairest in some ways has to feel like she’s managing on her own, even if she’s not (and she rarely is; those support groups exist for a reason). If you give a Fairest a doughnut in a social setting, she will lick that doughnut even if she doesn’t intend to eat it right away, solely to hear someone else say something along the lines of “well it’s yours now”. As Fairest filter into Freehold society and take up social roles at all levels of power - officers, messengers, ‘ambassadors’ to mortal society, secretaries, pledge-smiths, teachers, monarchs - their responsibilities and rewards become their doughnut. That Fairest make a big deal out of both their job and the benefits that come with it is rarely, as other Lost sometimes think, about aggrandizement or reveling in power for its own sake; it’s about the sheer relief and assurance of hearing someone say, to the Fairest’s face, that this is her doughnut and no one is going to take it from her.

Younger Fairest tend to flit between two or three Courts; their initial selection may be based entirely on friendships, Vibes, or a gut-check decision based on an initial pitch by that Court, and Fairest can go quite far even in a Court that doesn’t quite actually fit their needs. Eventually, though, those Fairest who survive their youth will gravitate towards a Court whose ideals speak to them, even if its current social order isn’t living up to those ideals. If they’re going to be condemned to live as exiles in the world of their birth, the Fairest can at least be the person she wants to be, god damn it. Fairest aren’t any more or less vulnerable to a toxic Court environment than other Lost, but they’re good at detecting it beforehand. Unfortunately they’re also good at telling themselves they can change it.

Spring - Though early Spring joiners are of course rare in general, Fairest are among those Lost who more commonly choose Spring as a first Court. Spring’s highly social focus and chaotic internal organization is almost tailor-made for the skill set of your average Fairest, but therein too lies a sense of threat; for many Fairest, Spring can remind them of their Durance, and their joining of the Court is as much motivated by fear of a powerful cultural body as it is by any genuine Desire, maybe even more so. Many such Fairest end up caught in Spring’s middle-road trap, spinning their wheels without recovering or worsening more or less until they finally die, but when Autumn can sniff out the fearful ones it puts a lot of work into cooperating with Spring to get them out and where they can be helped.

Summer - More Fairest dabble with Summer for dreams of glory, or because they want to believe in Summer’s apolitical sales pitch, than ultimately stick with Summer. Those that do stay often serve as officers, as the Sun’s Tongue or the Arrayer of Distant Thunder, and as Court sorcerers. Fairest skilled in Contracts of Separation can make for surprising Jaegers, hounding their prey down more like a private investigator or a serial killer than a traditional hunter, but while striking this is fairly rare. Fairest who stick with Summer are those who are looking for its high ideals and are often among those rare Summer Courtiers who can competently articulate both those ideals and their pitfalls without falling prey to cynicism and bitterness.

Autumn - For those Fairest who hurt others to feel safe, Autumn is waiting. The Leaden Mirror can be attractive to young Fairest because it’s easy to perceive Autumn as atomized, defined by personal relationships rather than webs of political influence, but when the Fairest discovers those webs the existence of Option Two: Resort To Violence as an acceptable tool to the Ashen Court is perversely reassuring rather than threatening. The image of the Fairest as a witch, tempting and threatening, clings to them in Autumn but it’s honestly not their most common role; Autumn employs its Fairest as rumor-mongers, the Other Woman who seems a little too familiar with your husband, therapists & counselors, oneiromancers, and ambassadors to Hedge communities. The work Autumn does is harsh on Clarity, and Fairest are especially vulnerable to that harshness, but if the Court invests the time in helping its Fairest members, the self-awareness and self-confidence it offers can be a godsend that no other Court can give them.

Winter - As the Court which is actually selling what Fairest think Autumn has - to wit, the ability to simply say “no” to all social interactions with no justification required - Winter has a strong undercurrent of Fairest membership at all tiers of its power. Fairest often end up directly involved in Winter’s money-making enterprises, and flourish as Squires and Armigers with their fingers on the pulse of the Court’s morale. Winter’s hands-off approach displays a tremendous amount of trust in its Fairest from their perspective, and the demeanor of the Coldest Court - Winter’s indifferent equality - has a potent, merciless appeal. The trap of drowning in Sorrow sucks more than a few Fairest under, but if their peers can be there for them there’s always a way back out.

This Is Not A Pipe - Fairest And Lost’s Themes

My many thanks to Izzie M for her extensive help on this section. I’m not sure I’d have been able to grapple it down, emotionally or intellectually, otherwise.

Fairest go through some intense shit, and the shit they go through can never fully be addressed, never fully be recovered from. It’s no mistake that Fairest, like Wizened, are among those Lost likely to never fully gain resolution with or from their Keeper, and this is because they embody the dark truth that no matter how much progress you make, how much you heal, your trauma has changed who you are as a person and you will be dealing with it until you die. But, as alluded to extensively above in the discussion of Fairest and gender, Fairest also embody the way in which society will attempt to stamp you, mold you, turn you into a product to be consumed or an archetype to be placed into its churning machine, and its attempts to reshape who and what you are and can be are, in themselves, a form of trauma and abuse.

Fairest deal a lot in expectations. They’re expected to be perfect victims, they’re expected to be happy (because they’re beautiful and attractive, because they can front as Doing Okay, because they have a form of access to ‘normal’ society), they’re expected to want romance and sex (since everyone else wants those things out of them), to perform emotional labor, to be available, intimate, understanding, to keep up appearances. Fairest escape the chains of their Keeper only to be clapped in the chains that extend into the eyes and minds of their peers, and they cannot move without hearing the clink of them.

Fairest are primed to represent victims of ongoing emotional abuse and neglect; sex slaves and victims of child abuse might find themselves in Fairest, as might husbands or wives of abusive partners (and boy, re-living my bullshit there was a bonus prize I didn’t want to receive for writing this article), children pushed to over-achieve (here overlapping with Elemental) until they break, pastor’s daughters and cult kids (here overlapping with Beast), and others. However, Fairest also hit their thematic stride when talking about trauma from a society that will not give you an exit. A trans person is first punished by society for “failing” to perform their assigned gender, then made to perform their new one to expectations that they cannot set, do not control, and do not consent to; such a person might easily be Fairest, as might a man breaking under the expectations of Maleness, a college student losing their mind in finals week with no one to help, or even more ‘ordinary’ sex workers expected to perform emotional and physical labor for a society that rewards their work with violence and dehumanization.

Fairest are people with complex internal worlds and they damn well know it, but the temptations to let others define them are numerous; society promises all manner of rewards for being who and what it wants you to be, for wanting the things it tells you to want, for being the kind of person who wants and does those things. To be Fairest is to know at any time you can start faking it and receive those rewards insofar as they’re actually on the table, but it is also to know, every second of every day that you’re performing that role, that it is fake. If you can’t find a community with which you can be genuine...well. You can always get more hurt, and in this way Fairest also bring another theme of Lost into focus: that the Lost owe compassion and understanding to their fellow victims, because failure to care can only hurt both them and everyone in their blast zone.

Feet Pics For Legos - Coping As A Fairest

Fairest are among those Lost who are most concerned with their day-to-day social interactions and safety rather than their immediate, very physical environmental safety. They are perhaps the Seeming most likely to live in a group setting (in an apartment with roommates or romantic partners, in a house shared between multiple households, splitting the bills in a condo, with their parents), and are definitely the Seeming most comfortable with the idea of living with mortals who aren’t ensorcelled. Indeed, Fairest don’t tend to do well living alone; even a Fairest who wants or needs a private place to be, choosing to keep a home in which others cannot lay a claim, will likely crash at friends’ places, sleep over at the Freehold commons on some pretext or another, stay the night with a lover, or otherwise have a place to flop down while surrounded by other people. Having other people - their greatest reality check - around the place helps keep the Fairest centered in the real reality, better able to pick apart the mortal from the Wyrd from their own unrelated hallucinations, and a Fairest who is isolated - or who is permitted to isolate herself - quickly begins to dissociate and may soon be incapable of caring for herself until someone can get her back into the present.

Those invited over as guests to a Fairest’s home may note a lot of concern for those she lives with. She likely schedules the event well in advance, is clear about the boundaries of those she lives with (”That’s Brenda’s room, the door stays shut.”) and in general treats her communal home with a lot of respect and love. Respecting these boundaries and in turn having her own respected is very validating for the Fairest and is vital to be able to feel safe and at ease in her own home, and impressing their importance on guests further reinforces that this is, as it were, her doughnut. While not dismissive of their own literal physical safety per se, a Fairest’s anxieties rarely center around her body being violently attacked by strangers. For those that do have such anxieties, they may choose to solve that problem by simple expedient of rooming or living with someone large and scary.

Another detail of note which is touched on in Winter Masques is that Fairest tend to seek out life’s little pleasures. Though they are not necessarily wealthier than other Lost, how a Fairest chooses to spend her money tends to follow particular patterns. Rare is the Fairest who doesn’t have clothing they like, a phone that works, a wallet or purse that can actually hold all of their stuff, and in this regard most Fairest without a special interest in fashion as a hobby in and of itself will have an aesthetic that is self-expressive but serviceable and hard-wearing, but any place the Fairest haunts, frequents, or lives in will get little touches everywhere. Fairest spend the little bits of extra money for good toilet paper, soft soaps that won’t hurt the skin, good shower supplies, high-quality razors, boots that won’t wear through - and they spend their serious money on their hobbies and preferences. A Fairest with a passion for cooking scrimps and saves to get a fully-stocked kitchen; a Fairest who likes building and connecting invests in Legos or Hot Wheels and creates elaborate environments for them. A gamer Fairest has headphones that can vibrate your constipation away and a fiber optic connection to ensure that lag will not stand between her and your doom. The reasons for this are manifold, and Lost’s canon writing suggests that Fairest seek pleasure to alleviate a desire to return to Arcadia. This is, to put it mildly, a stupid assertion; rather, the Fairest provides her own pleasures in part because it is one of the most emotionally clear ways to lick the doughnut, and in part because it reminds her that she can be happy under her own power, can seek pleasure, stimulation, engagement, without placing herself at another’s mercy - ironically making it easier to go out every day and do exactly that as a member of her various societies.

As a Fairest settles in she tends to look for “her” people, and quite often they’re good at compartmentalizing this, wearing different hats and having different feelings about those hats without feeling fake or distressed about the bare fact of that. She’ll have her personal friends and family, like her housemates, her girlfriend, maybe her mortal family, her neighbors, and then folks like her Motley (which are like her personal friends and family, but In The Know), her fellow Fairest and the Freehold broadly, her work friends and fellow hobbyists. A Fairest who does, say, sex work, thinks of herself as a Sex Worker and understands herself in the context of that broader social group. It can be a lot! Many Lost barely have a handle on being a member of both the Freehold and a Court, and the way Fairest flit to and fro between many communities, slipping seamlessly from one role to another, can be exhausting to watch - but by doing so the Fairest also builds bonds between those communities, highlights their common needs and interests, draws them together over their similarities and strengths. Darklings and Wizened get a lot of the work on the ground done, but it’s often a Fairest in the role of whistleblower, figurehead, and champion all at once.

After all, this, too, is her doughnut.

Example Fairest - Clara Belltower, Spring Playmate

Clara Belltower is a mime.

Well, no, not exactly. Clara Belltower is a self-employed porn actress, erotic script writer, and director, whose primary thing is mimes, clowns, and more broadly circuses and performance venues. She came back from Arcadia eight years back fleeing life as her Keeper’s Stepford Wife, and ran face-first into the money issues that haunt the Lost in general. What started out as a practical choice in new career - and an attempt to find and express an identity not created for her by her abuser - became a creative passion that has stayed strong with Clara and propelled her to status in the Spring Court, which retains her keen eye for decoration, direction, and theatricality in service to its high rituals and revels. Clara’s livestreams and online presence are also a convenient avenue for the Freehold to launder its less legal revenue streams, which has endeared Spring’s “silent siren” to the Winter Court and cemented her as a mover and shaker.

Clara’s ambitions reach beyond erotic miming, as talented as she is at both creating and purveying such. She has her eyes on four different strip clubs in Freehold territory alone whose owners and operators need to fucking go, and she wants Winter’s help making it happen; further, she wants the Freehold to take over operation of those establishments for the benefit of the workers. Clara’s vision is popular in Spring and has its supporters in Summer too, but the Declining Seasons have been cool on the concept, citing a need to maintain subtlety and avoid entanglements with the mortal world that might invite the eye of, say, the IRS - or mire the Freehold in a protracted war with local police departments. Clara’s passion burns with a righteous simplicity, envisioning a Freehold that is active in improving the city around it - if the cops want to throw down, bring it on! Her influence over Winter means the Coldest Court cannot simply dismiss her desires, but neither is it willing to go to war. Something is going to have to give, soon.

This concludes the Fairest portion of the article. Some additional thoughts on Seeming follow.

Bombing Your Own Position - Choosing Your Seeming

So it’s been six articles and I’ve talked about the ways various Seemings can represent responses to the things which traumatize us; neurodivergences for which society abuses us, the machinery of capitalism, violence, prison, and more. But how do you go about choosing your character’s Seeming? The obvious choice is to make a character that puts a lot of yourself at the table; to seek out a Seeming that reflects your own traumas, your own issues, your own anxieties and struggles, and then grapple with them in this fictional context. But RPGs can be an emotionally challenging medium, and you may well not want to deal with your own bullshit during your magic trauma fairy game. That’s valid!

Now, the second obvious piece of advice is to think about your proposed character’s themes and traumas and then select a Seeming from there, but this can get complicated. Many Lost players feel as if they need two Seemings, and to those players I say: no the fuck you do not. But it is true that people are messy and do not fully resolve, that the broad spectrum of the world of sorrow and loss is not easy to fit into 6 discrete categories whose creation was often managed by, not to keep repeating this point, fucking Nazis. I have found in my experience that it can be helpful, when you’re torn between two Seemings or you have a character you’re sure is this Seeming even though they look like or could be that one, to ask yourself why the character is not the other option. Why is this alluring and sensual Darkling not a Fairest, what makes this brutal and violent Wizened not an Ogre? This question naturally leads to others about their abuse and their reaction to it, and can start your momentum for writing your concept out.

As an addition, while I’ve spoken of various Seemings as being well-equipped to represent specific traumas, they don’t own those traumas. Elementals are metaphorically autistic, but there’s nothing stopping you from running an autistic Fairest or an autistic Beast instead. Rather, those Seemings outlined as being “for” or “about” certain traumas are those whose selection will make those traumas thematically central, cause you to return to them as a topic over and over by virtue of being who and what they are. Real people have complicated problems which intersect with one another, spawning new problems that are more strange than the sum of their parts, and it’s both valid and interesting to write your Lost that way - just keep in mind that it’ll still be complicated at the table too.

Van Helsing Hate Crimes - Seeming Politics

White Wolf spent a lot of time waffling back and forth on whether or not Seemings represent distinct cultural and political identities in a given Freehold, drifting towards ‘yes’ when the writers thought about the way Blessings and Curses create consistent, measurable differences between Lost of various Seemings, and towards ‘no’ generally whenever they were asked to actually outline a Lost society such as a sample Freehold or Entitlement. Some Entitlements are locked to specific Seemings, often times with little thought as to why, while other times Seeming-based power blocs are alluded to as worldbuilding elements (such as in Lords of Summer) without much in the way of supporting detail. Why should these things happen, when, how, what does the buildup of this violent fracture in a Freehold society look like?

On the whole, I have taken the stance in these articles and in my own worldbuilding that some amount of fantastical prejudice exists amongst the Lost, but that the systems of oppression have not taken root. Maybe it’s idealistic of me to view the Lost as unwilling or unable to produce internally racist power structures that create an underclass for the benefit of an appointed elite, but in general I feel as if Freeholds are too small, each individual member too precious by simple dint of being a living being in a physical body, for this kind of evil to flourish. That said, you may have also noticed that I identified two Seemings - Darklings and Fairest - as explicitly self-uniting and in some senses self-governing on the basis of common traumas that they often cannot fully explain to outsiders, and indeed community with people that understand your bullshit without you having to say it aloud - that is, those who share a Seeming with you - can be invaluable to all Lost. Ultimately, however, I want to advise against looking at Seemings the way that, say, Vampire: the Requiem looks at Clans, and instead to treat them as reactions to trauma rather than a kind of alternate racial identity.

Next up: So You Need To Write A Fetch

Sparks, Pt. 4

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Chapter Summary: You get ready to confront the God of Mischief. But are you ready for that?

A/N: Finally, a bit more Loki.

TW: Eating

After a year consisting mostly of isolation and non-consensual experimentation, it was strange, to say the least, to have people actually give a shit about your well-being.

Shortly after Fury called the meeting to a close, Nat took you to a sort of staff room, oddly normal for a ship like this. State of the art, but with all the basic workings of a regular office’s staff room.

“You must be starving,” she said, pulling some things out of an impressive reach-in refrigerator. “Sandwich? I make a mean ham and cheese.”

Your stomach suddenly let out a worrying growl, and you winced.

“Sounds fantastic, actually,” you realized you couldn’t remember the last time you’d eaten. The lab hadn’t exactly been feeding you five star meals.

A comfortable silence settled into the room while Natasha assembled the sandwich. The quiet sounds of her work lulled you into a sort of trance, as you stared at the wall, and definitely didn’t think about how an agent of a secret organization was preparing you lunch on a giant aircraft carrier thousands of feet in the air which was also occupied by two gods, a historic super soldier, and the most famous tech genius in the world.

No. You didn’t think about it at all.

She presented you with her finished product and a glass of water with a flourish, which also included a bag of chips and an apple. “It might be too much, so only eat as much as you want. It’s better to take it easy when your stomach isn’t used to meals like this.”

You nodded and gave her an expression which you hoped looked more grateful than grimace. Truth be told, you were holding back emotion as even this small kindness felt overwhelming after the past year.

But as you picked up the sandwich to take a bite, a heavy set of footsteps stopped at the door.

It was Thor, his large frame standing almost sheepishly in the doorway. “Apologies for interrupting. May I speak with you?”

To your surprise, the question was for you, and after a nod, Nat touched your wrist and said, “I’ll be right outside. You can have the room.”

After she exited, Thor approached your table with a sort of caution.

“Oh, sorry, uh, would you like to sit down?” You stuttered lamely, when noticing his hesitation.

He nodded and did so, dwarfing the chair and the table. You hadn’t really taken the time to notice before, how huge his arms and shoulders were. A single bicep was larger than the size of your own head.

“Don’t let me interrupt your meal. You need your strength,” Thor said, eyes flicking to the plate. “Especially if you’re going to be facing my brother.”

Ah. That.

“Is that…” You were still having a bit of trouble processing the identity of who you were talking to. “Is that what you wanted to speak with me about?”

“Loki’s always been deceptive. I just wanted to warn you not to listen to anything he says, especially not at face value. He will try to distract you, deceive you, and it will seem he knows more about you than he should.”

As he spoke, you noticed he kept eyeing the potato chip packet next to your plate. You pushed it towards him, and he gratefully accepted, popping the bag open and nervously munching on its contents.

You hummed in thought. “I understand. Maybe it would help to know what kinds of abilities he has? What sort of tricks he’s able to pull?”

Thor seemed to relax slightly, having something to occupy his mind and hands. He regaled you with a few anecdotes of how Loki had used his magic to trick him, some from their childhood, and some more recently.

You found yourself both more reassured and more nervous, afraid there might be something you would miss allowing Loki an out. Or a way to hurt you. But all of that aside, it was almost fun to converse with Thor like this… being nearly immortal led to having many interesting stories to tell, and the more he told the more animated he became. He even had you laughing at some points.

“Thank you,” he held up the empty chip bag. “I haven’t had these since my last visit to Earth. A favored Midgardian dish, if I recall.”

You smiled. “No problem. And thank you for warning me. I know it must be difficult to... fight with family like this.”

“Yes,” a sad half smile lifted one side of his lips, “I’m afraid that is something I am still coming to terms with.”

Before he rose from his seat, Thor clapped you on the shoulder. “You know, you remind me of my first Midgardian friends. I believe they would like you. One of them zapped me with a small device that even mimics your powers.”

With that strange but kind remark, Thor left the room.

….

Natasha said she had things she needed to attend to, but that you were welcome to walk around as you pleased, and to just be careful not to stumble into anything that looked even mildly secret or dangerous.

So you aimlessly wandered the giant airship, mostly in an attempt to walk off some nerves. You tried to memorize your paths, memorize the turns and rooms, but after a while you realized just how much you’d fucked up. It was a fruitless endeavor, and you eventually found yourself quite lost.

“Great,” you muttered to yourself.

You turned the way you came, but as you did so, something shifted in the corner of your eye. Whipping frantically towards the movement, you felt your body tense like an animal being hunted, and thoughts of the masked man from the labs flooded your mind.

No, he couldn’t be here. Your mind was playing tricks, your anxiety was getting the better of you.

“My, my,” a silvery voice said into your ear. “You are jumpy, aren’t you?”

Reeling back, you slammed into the opposite wall, nearly knocking yourself out with the force of it. You still didn’t see the source of the voice.

“What is the reason for this skittishness, I wonder?”

Loki.

He materialized in front of you, and you froze like a deer in the headlights. He rolled his eyes. “Calm yourself. This is not an escape attempt.”

You did not find that convincing.

“This is merely a projection. My real body is still in that cell… Here, see for yourself.” His right hand swept out to beckon to you, palm up.

Did he want you to… touch him? Your earlier conversation with Thor filtered through your head, and you knew it would be a bad idea. You did not move. Again, frustration showed on Loki’s creased brow.

“Fine, look.” Then, through a wall of solid steel, Loki passed his hand as if he were just a hologram.

“What do you want?” you asked abruptly.

He looked faintly surprised that you had spoken, but schooled his expression quickly. “I want to know more about you.”

“What?” It was your turn to be surprised (not that you’d stopped since he materialized from nowhere). “Why?”

“It’s not every day I meet a mortal who can withstand an Infinity Stone’s power,” he chuckled, as if that were clearly obvious.

Your blank stare must’ve clued him in to the fact that the significance of this ‘Infinity Stone’ was lost on you, because he only sighed.

“Rest assured, it’s not something a normal human should be able to do,” he said. “So… what is different about you?”

He stepped closer, and though you knew he couldn’t touch you, you recoiled further into the wall. His stare was piercing, and he clearly enjoyed that it made you squirm.

Finally you mustered up the courage to respond. “I’ve already told this story once today,” you said, sounding more like a petulant child than you meant to.

“Touchy subject?”

“It’s not particularly fun to talk about, no.”

He didn’t move any closer but didn’t relinquish you your space either. He just studied you as if he could discern your entire history from your visual being.

You wondered if you should just turn and walk away, or if he had some way of stopping you. Even more unexpected though, was the realization that you wanted to talk to him, that maybe this conversation could help you in your real life encounter that was to happen soon.

“Why did you approach me in the pub?” you asked, and though it wasn’t the answer he apparently wanted, he looked pleased that you were engaging him now. “I was curious.”

“And when you blasted me with the scepter?”

“I wanted to see what would happen.” He shrugged, as casual as if he were discussing the weather.

“And now that you have? What do you want?”

A beat of silence. Then, “What do you think?”

You thought, if he had had a plan before, your presence must have thrown quite the wrench and that if he were smart, he would be trying to figure out exactly how big and disastrous that wrench would be. “I think you didn’t expect me to be involved.”

He raised an eyebrow. “That is true.” Then a smirk began to form on his mouth and he squinted at you. “They’re planning something with you, aren’t they? Fury and his subordinates.”

Your widened eyes must have been all the answer he needed. How did he know?

With a laugh, “They have so much at their disposal, weapons of mass destruction, all of Stark’s technology, and they defer to the prowess of a child they’ve only just met?” Loki leaned in so close the green of eyes felt overwhelming. “They must be truly desperate.”

A familiar voice, Tony’s, called your name from around the corner, echoing off the metal walls of the hallway. But Loki didn’t move. His eyes remained on you, so sharp and curious, you felt like an animal on a dissection tray.

“Until next we meet, then.”

And with that, he vanished.

“Sparks,” Tony came around to your stretch of hallway. “Thought that was your voice. You lost? Talking to yourself? You know, cabin fever usually takes a lot longer than a few hours to set in.”

Still a little too stunned to speak, you gulped and nodded.

Tony’s eyes narrowed with concern. “You good? Looking a little green around the gills, Pikachu.”

“Yeah… yeah, I’m alright.” Your voice returned to you. “And.. Pikachu? Really?”

Tony wasn’t entirely convinced but seemed to let it go. He shrugged. “I like to change it up-- and are you, or are you not, electrically charged at all times?”

You sighed, rolling your eyes. He clapped you on the shoulder.

“Come on,” he turned, waving you to follow him. “Want you to see what we cooked up for ya.”

————

The conducting table was ready. Only a few moments before you stepped into Loki’s cage, the first time you would be in the same physical space as him since he basically almost murdered you.

Cool. All cool. You were definitely not feeling a panic attack setting in. You were definitely breathing at a normal rate and not feeling your lungs seize up in your chest.

“We’ll be right here, if anything goes wrong,” Steve said, laying a hand gently on the back of your shoulder.

“Aye,” Thor said. “I’ll be standing with you.”

There was a stone in your throat as you looked at Loki through the thick glass. He seemed to feel your gaze, and slowly turned to look, grinning when he saw you watching.

Loki’s hands were shackled, sitting on the table in front of two conducting handles, which were mirrored on the other side. The idea was that you both grip them, and you would be able to dig through his mind… theoretically.

“I don’t know if this is going to work,” you said. You felt sweat under your arms, and your face getting hot with anxiety.

Fury eyed you. “Just do what you can.”

The door to his cell whooshed open, and flanking you on either side as you entered were Cap and Thor. Loki regarded them with that same smirk as they entered, soon followed by Fury and Natasha. Tony and Dr. Banner remained on the other side of the glass.

“Is this the best you can do?” He said, his eyes flaring at you. “Insulting, really.”

Fury ignored him, directing you to the empty chair at the other end of the table.

“On my go,” he said, and stood to the right of the table. He pinned Loki with a stare.

Loki shot back a challenging look before his gaze settled on you and his hands moved to grip the handles. “On your go.” And at that moment, in full purview of that slanting grin, you understood why he was called the God of Mischief.

Fury nodded at you.

Now or never.

And, sparing a passing thought to the entropy that was your life and the risks of what you were about to do, you grabbed the handles.

Tags: @purplekitten30 @scorpionchild81 @mjaudrey @srhxpci @the-maroon-panda @lirinstaalem

dad!ateez: your instincts kick in this time

reader is female. kind of a second part to this but not really..? it could be read as a second part requested by an anon, i hope you enjoy it!

taglist: @ddeonghwva​

Hongjoong: 

You wake up to an empty bed and a loud clang in the kitchen. You reach over to the lamp beside you, blearily blinking away the sleep in your eyes as your ears pick up various giggling in the hallway. The digital clock beside the lamp read 2:30 am. It took you a couple of seconds to realize what was happening before you were jumping out of bed and storming towards the kitchen.

“Kim Hongjoong and Kim Junseo,” You grumble as you appear in the kitchen doorway. 

The two loves of your life stopped what they were doing- which was currently mixing some espresso with a shot of some energy drink. You knew what this meant- your husband had no plan of sleeping yet and your son thought it would be a good idea to go along. But you, of course, weren’t having it.

“It was daddy’s idea,” The little boy said and pointed to his father the minute he saw your unamused expression.

“Yah, don’t sell me out like that-” 

“It’s two-thirty in the morning. Go to sleep,” You lifted your finger before they could protest. “You need sleep, you’re still growing.” You tell your son before facing your husband. “And you, have been working overtime. Come on now misters- off to bed.”

The father and son pair decided to follow before you push them into bed. But as Junseo hops off the counter, he knocks the glass of espresso-energy drink cocktail down to the ground. Your body moved on its own accord before you could realize what happened, and grabbed the glass, spilling some of the content on the floor.

“Go to bed, I’ll clean this up.” You say when you come to your senses. “And please for the love of God, no more staying up.”

Seonghwa: 

It was a sunny day in the amusement park. You, Seonghwa, and Hyojin were by the large slides. And of course, Seonghwa was taking pictures of his two beautiful models, whether candid or planned. 

“Again, again!” Hyonjin cheered when she reached the end of the slide, standing up and clapping her hands. “But let’s do the big ones!”

“Are you sure you can handle that sweetie?” Your husband asks her as he helps her off the slide, fixing her little dress and the bow in her hair. He smiles when she nods and tugs on his and your hands to lead you to the slide she wanted. 

She had definitely gotten this enthusiasm from you. She was always so ready to jump into things and try them, even if it seemed scary. He always called her his brave little princess for that. Sometimes he feels like he’d get a heart attack from what she does but as long as he or you was there, it was fine. 

You and Seonghwa stay at the end of the slide and wave up to her when she reaches the top. She waves back energetically before sitting on the small mat that was given to her to help go down the rather enormous slide. As Hyonjin scoots forward, she lets out an excited holler, her long tresses flowing behind her as she zooms down towards you. 

Unfortunately, she tried to slow down her descent by sticking her feet to the sides. And of course, by the law of inertia, the sudden stop makes her fly forward. Her face could have planted into the ground if you hadn’t jumped forward and caught her in your arms. 

You both tumbled to the ground and Seonghwa immediately rushes over to you, ushering his two princesses to the side. “Are you two okay?” He says as he looks over the both of you. 

Hyonjin, oblivious as ever, only nodded. “Mommy caught me so I’m okay.” 

“I’m a little shaken,” You admit but the smile never leaves your face. “Maybe a kiss from my prince and my baby would help me feel better.”

Hyonjin only giggled and placed a big, wet kiss on your cheek. You chuckled at the ticklish feeling before Seonghwa cups your chin, gently turning your head to face him. He lovingly strokes your cheek before leaning in to press a short but sweet peck to your lips. 

Yunho:

“Daddy look, it’s uncle Mingi!” Eun-jung, now nine years old, said from her spot on her father’s shoulder. 

Yunho laughs as she indicates the giraffe in front of them. “Oh yeah, it does look like him.” He mused and handed her a short branch of leaves for her to feed to the creature.

Yunho turns to you while you were busy entertaining your son, Eun-sang. He was now three years old and can hold a conversation with people. It felt like only yesterday when his son was just born and his sister was begging to hold him. 

“You enjoying the giraffes buddy?” Yunho asks his son.

“Mhmm! I wanna see something ewls too.” Eun-sang says. 

“I’ll take him to see the koalas,” You tell Yunho. “Don’t give daddy a hard time, Eun-jung!” 

“I won’t mommy,” She promises and waves goodbye to you.

You adjusted your hold on your son, lifting him up further, and started to walk to where the koala enclosure was. The two of you were so wrapped up in your conversation that you didn’t notice a couple of children running in your direction. Yunho’s eyes widened, realizing that the kids could barrel into you, making you fall.

“______, watch out!”

You turn at his voice, seeing the kids rushing at you. You jump to the side but you lose your footing, making you tumble to the ground. Your son grasps onto you but you swerve and fall onto your knees so that you don’t crush him under you. He looks up at you, wondering what had happened. “You okay mommy?” He asks and puts his small hand on your cheek

Your husband rushes to you, your daughter following alongside him and checking up on the both of you. Eun-jung, being the hands on older sister she was, took her brother from you while Yunho helped you up. “God, that was terrifying.” He admits and helps you brush off the dirt on your clothes. “But that was quick of you babe.” 

“Mommy has Spider-Man refwekses.” Eun-sang giggles and you smirk up at your husband. 

“HAH, I told you I had them too.”

Yeosang:

You cooed down to your daughter, Haneul, as she lay on her back on the changing table. She smiles up at you, hands outstretched as you cleaned her up and started changing her diaper. You handed her the chicken stick rattle that Yeosang gave her the month she could start holding things to distract her.

“Oh, that’s stinky!” Ji-ho complains as he passes by his little sister’s room, dragging his toy behind him. 

“You’ll be on diaper changing duty one day, mister!” You call out to your son in amusement as you finish up. 

You only chuckle to yourself when he protests, making you shake your head. You hum to yourself as you throw away all the used materials. “Where’s her shorts?” You ask yourself and momentarily turn away to get it.

But what you didn’t realize was that Haneul grew bored of her rattle and became impatient of just laying there. She cooed as she started to roll over, thinking that it was just another flat surface to crawl all over. The second she fell off the edge of the changing table was the second you turned back around to put it on her.

Your eyes widened and it felt like the whole world slowed down. You lunged forward and caught your baby in time before she could hit the ground. The force of the impact made her cry, causing you to snap out of your stupor. You cradle her to you, gently hushing her and leaning her head against your shoulder. 

“It’s okay baby, mommy’s here,” You coo to her and pull away to kiss her head. “You’re such a little troublemaker aren’t you?”

San:

The sounds of giggles floated around the kitchen along with the clanging of cupboards. It was currently eight-thirty in the evening in the Choi household. Nari and Sooyun, both four and nine years old respectively, were in the kitchen, sneaking cookies from the cookie jar after managing to slip past their babysitter who was watching tv in the living room. 

They were supposed to be asleep in their shared room and for a while they were. That was until the coast was clear and their babysitter returned to the living room. That meant to wake up from their fake sleep, grab some goodies from the kitchen, and head back into the room to snack on it. 

Nari and Sooyun were now in their room, mouth, and teeth covered in chocolate while their little plastic cups were filled with strawberry milk. They giggled to themselves, high on success after sneaking past their babysitter. But that joy was short-lived when they heard the familiar rumble of the car’s engine in the driveway. 

“Quick Nari!” Sooyun urges her sister and the two girls quickly cleaned up and disposed of their trash. They hastily taped the plastic bag full of Kisses Chocolates, thinking their parents wouldn’t find out, threw it in the fridge, and jumped into bed. The oldest girl turned off the lights and made sure things were in order before sleeping. 

You and San come to check on your two angels after your little date night. But as soon you walked into the room, you knew something was off. You spot the little crumbs by the foot of Sooyun’s bed and the pink plastic cup that she had hastily shoved under it. You shake your head in amusement, walking over to pick it up as your husband kissed the two girls’ foreheads.

“Why do you have that?” San asks when he sees you with the cup. You say nothing, but nod your head towards your daughters. It took him a couple of seconds before he realized what had happened and he nodded in understanding. 

“Oh well, I guess we won’t be going to the ice cream parlor tomorrow,” San sighs loudly, seeing the girls tense under their blankets. “I guess you and I will be the only ones to go. What do you say _____-”

“We’re sorry mommy!” Nari said, the first to cave in. She was sniffling as tears threatened to fall down her round cheeks. “Please take us to ice cream!”

Mingi:

You chuckle as Young-soo bounces on the mattress, cupping his dad’s cheeks when his father leans over him. Mingi settles his son in the middle of the mattress again while you stay on the other side, ready to catch him in the next few seconds. Your husband flops down onto the edge of the mattress, making the two-year-old boy fly up in the air and squeal in delight. 

“Hold on, I have to head to the bathroom,” You say as you get up. 

“Don’t take too long babe,” Mingi says as he pulls his son towards him and tickles his stomach.

You assure him and jog to the bathroom, leaving the two boys alone. For a while, Mingi entertains Young-soo by blowing raspberries into his stomach or cheeks and by tickling his sides. Joyous giggles fill the air but the boy soon grows bored of just being tickled. 

“Up, up!” He tells his dad, shaking the man’s much larger hand. 

“Let’s wait for mommy bud, it’s not safe.” He tells his son. The boy, sensing that he didn’t get what he wanted, started to burst into tears. Mingi cringes at the sound, trying his best to hush him. Eventually, he caves in when none of his attempts seem to work. 

“Alright, alright. Just this once. But don’t tell your mom.” He says as he settles his son on the center of the mattress again. 

Once more, he launches his son into the air but the little boy twists, making him go off course. And he would’ve fallen to the floor if you didn’t enter in time to catch him. You grab Young-soo by the arm and leg and pull him to you. “Oh my God- Song Mingi.”

“Baby he wanted it!” He tried to protest, only to see his son make a funny face at him. 

Wooyoung:

“Good job kiddo,” Wooyoung says as he pats his son’s head.

Minjoon beams proudly up at his father, continuing with mixing the batter for their little cake meant for you. He wasn’t ashamed to admit that he took after his father’s cooking skills- in fact he always made sure to mention it to his friends. And because he wanted to level up his skills to be on par with his dad’s he always made sure to practice whenever he could. 

Minjoon hums as he rocks back and forth on the bar stool behind the counter. Wooyoung hears the creaking noise of the chair’s wood and reaches out to still his son’s actions. He didn’t want to have the high chair incident repeat again. 

“You can’t sit still, now can you buddy?” The man teases his son, only to receive a pout. 

“I’m not going to fall dad,” Minjoon argues but follows nonetheless. He only pouted more when his dad ruffled his hair and went back to what he was doing. 

Eventually the two fell into routine again, exchanging some father-son banter and helping each other around the kitchen. The two grew focused on what they were doing that Wooyoung didn’t notice that his son started to rock back and forth on the seat again.

You walk into the kitchen a little later, a gentle smile on your face. You were about to ask what the two were doing when Minjoon tilts a little too backward, making the chair tip over in that direction. You drop whatever you were holding at that moment and rush to catch him. 

Your son falls with a choked yell, landing into your arms as you both topple to the floor from the impact. Wooyoung ran from his spot by the stove, turning it to low heat first- you didn’t want a fire to start, and over to you. “What happened??”

You look up from your spot on the floor, your arms protectively wrapped around Minjoon. “The little rascal fell,” You breathed. You look down to your son and kiss his hair, letting out a relieved chuckle. “You have got to stop doing that, buddy.” 

Jongho: 

One of the perks of being an active family is that the kids are always entertained and you get to have fun at the same time. Exercise is just a bonus. Right now, you were in this bouncy house/parkour gym for people of all ages- a treat for your kids who managed to get high grades in class. 

As of now, your twins were by a small area where some short wire-lines were set up for the zipline. It was the type of zipline where you hang by your hands, allowing you to jump into the pit filled with soft blue blocks. Jongho was on top with your son, Young-min, while you and your daughter, Young-soon, were at the foot of the zipline, cheering him on. 

“Come on Young-min! You got this!” She encourages as she bounced around. She was always the more daring one between the two of them. 

Jongho knelt by his son, cupping the back of his head. “You ready bud?” He asks gently.

The boy only nodded, both excitement and nerves filling his system. He brushes his sweaty palms against his pants and releases a curt sigh. His fingers then curled around the bars that the gym worker handed him, bouncing on the balls of his feet. 

“You don’t have to do it if you’re scared-”

“No, dad-” Young-min answers firmly. “I got this.”

He exhales and pushes off, feeling the wind whip against his face as he zipped down. He could faintly hear his sister’s cheers as he raced to the bottom. Unfortunately, he doesn't let go on time. So when he hits the metal stopper at the bottom of the zipline, the force of the impact causes him to launch forward, throwing him out of his hold on the zipline and away from the safety pit below. 

You instinctively reached out, your body reacting before you could register what was happening, and pulled him towards you; you’ve practically saved him from potentially face planting into the ground. He looks shaken up when you help him to the ground, eyes wide with adrenaline. 

“Are you okay?” You ask him, a bit worriedly, as you look over him for any pulled muscles. 

All anxiety melts away when he beams widley and throws his hand up in the air. “AGAIN!” 

I Just Want It To Be Us - 1.1

note: Part 1 of the Us series which is originally posted on my ao3 here

Us series masterlist

characters: Dabi/Touya Todoroki, Hawks/Keigo Takami

warnings: 18+, drug use, toxic relationships, cheating, angsty-ish

summary:

That question always rang through your mind every time he comes back smelling like one of his side whores and cash in his pocket. He’s your boyfriend but he’s been doing this since way before he met you, and he wasn’t going to stop just because you’re together. It was a condition that you pretty much forced yourself to accept from the very beginning because well… you really did like Dabi that much.

Dabi knows that it makes you upset but he’s not going to stop for your sake.

You know that he won’t.

1.1 ✧ 1.2  ✧ 1.3

Your mother would be so disappointed if she saw you with your current boyfriend.

“Marry a nice man, honey.”

“When you find someone to settle down with, make sure he’s the one.”

“Don’t flit about from guy to guy, it’s not lady-like.”

All these rules your mother set you up with when it came to finding a boyfriend, you knew it came from a good place in her heart. She was only looking out for you when she told you these things but didn’t she get that dating now was different in this age and time? You’re a free person and you can see however many people you want or you could see no one at all and that was perfectly fine as well.

She has a feeling you’re seeing someone but you haven’t confirmed with her. To be honest, you don’t think you’ll tell her anything about your current boyfriend. It would be for the sake of preserving her little, fragile heart. How horrified would she be if she found out her precious daughter was dating the local drug dealer in her college campus?

He didn’t like being called by his surname and he didn’t seem to like being called by his first name either. The first time he speaks in front of your intro to philosophy class, taking it just to fulfill one of grad requirements, he says to just refer to him as ‘Dabi’. It’s curious to the people who don’t know who he is already but who are they to argue with someone how they should be addressed?

So you call him Dabi.

You called him Dabi the first time you spoke to him in class, asking for notes from the day you missed before in class. You called him Dabi when he found you sitting alone in the library and he kicked your chair to get your attention. You called him Dabi the more you spent time together with him, even past the semester once your one shared class is over and final grades were submitted. You called him Dabi the first time he ever rails you on his cock in the backseat on his car.

You almost forget sometimes that his real name is Touya.

In his off campus apartment, he sits in a chair in front of the bathroom mirror and you stand behind him with plastic gloves over your hands, helping him dye the roots of his hair black. The dye stinks, you hate the smell of it, but he kind of suckered you into doing it for him this time. He promised that if you’d help him, he’d sit through one of your stupid romantic-comedy movies you’d been dying to watch for a while. But you had to tack on a condition if he was going to give you an incentive.

If Dabi watched a movie with you and wasn’t entertained by it enough, he’d always leave to smoke a joint and come back high just so that he could get through the rest of the film.

“No break of any kind unless it’s a snack or pee break, you understand me?” you tell him as you put the final layer of dye on his roots. “And no doing it before the movie starts! I want you sober when we watch it together.”

“Yeah, yeah doll. You have my word.” Dabi passively waves his hand at you as he looks down at his phone.

Your eyes casually glance down at his phone screen and see that he’s in his messages app.

Wonder if someone is trying to get him as a connect. You think to yourself as you dispose of the plastic gloves and the remaining hair dye. You’re cleaning up the hair dye tools and open the window to air out the awful smell of the dye, all while Dabi sits in his chair and stares at his messaging app. The sounds of incoming messages from his phone tell you that there’s a conversation going on but his fingers don’t move over the keyboard to respond. It’s not your business how he runs his operations.

“How long do I leave the dye on?” he asks as he stands up from the chair, putting his phone on the countertop, and literally rips the shirt off his body from the neckline down the middle. It’s just a regular t-shirt he bought to protect his skin from the dye dripping onto his body dispensable from the very beginning, but he didn’t have to make a show of it. The shirt drops to the floor in a heap and he kicks it off to the side; you are not picking it up for him.

Dabi’s hot, ridiculously hot, that’s the first thing anyone notices about him. Both his ears have multiple piercings and his nose as well sporting three studs on his right nostril. If he’s wearing short sleeves, the first thing anyone will see that his both arms are tattooed all black, save for where they end, at his hands and shoulders it’s detailed to look like his skin is being held together by staples. On any other person it would look ridiculous to you, on Dabi not so much.

He notices you staring and winks at you, but you scoff at him and push past him to exit the bathroom. “You know how long it stays on, you’ve done this plenty of times before by yourself.”

“I like it when you tell me doll.”

Ah Dabi could be so charming when he felt like it.

You roll your eyes at him but peck him on the lips. “Shut up, I’m going to order in some food for dinner today.”

“Wow, ordering in for dinner tonight. Such housewife material (Name).” Dabi pokes fun at you.

“And you’re going to be the perfect husband Dabi.” you tease back.

You’re not certain if Dabi is long-term boyfriend material, you’ve only been dating for about five months. It’s not a long period of time you’ve spent as boyfriend and girlfriend but you’ve had a lot of fun with him. Although you have to admit that part of the fun you were experiencing with Dabi was because of what he’s introduced you to.

Before Dabi, you’d only smoke a little bit of weed every once in a while or take the occasional edible to wind down. You never had your own stash of it, you’d only partake if a friend supplied or if you were at a party. There was no point in having your own selection if you didn’t really partake in it that much. You were okay with smoking from a joint or a bong every once in a while, maybe take an edible if you wanted something a little stronger than smoking flower.

After Dabi you’d indulge in the occasional gram of coke and maybe some ecstasy if you felt like you could afford to take two days off from work for the come down. There were still others you hadn’t given a try yet, like shrooms or 2CB or do a candy flip, but you were slowly working up the nerve to give them a try when you were ready. Dabi offered you a Percocet but god, never again because you were too fucked up the one time you tried it.

You didn’t really think in your life you’d be involved romantically with a drug dealer but honestly it’s not as bad as you thought it would be.

Oh yeah, try explaining that to Mom…

Dab treats you right for the most part, he’s never yelled at you or ever taken his anger out on you either since dating each other, he just sells narcotics on the college campus and he got you into it too, it’s not a big deal. It helped that Dabi took it easy on you rather than just pushing you to do more than you were comfortable with. The first time you were curious about coke, he made you a little thin line of it and it took you more than an hour to decide you were ready before finally snorting it. After that first one, he let you decide how long and thick you wanted your lines to be. He’d cut it nice and neat for you and point to which one was yours to take. Coke felt good but the drip was disgusting in the back of your throat.

Speaking of disgusting…

“Hey, it should have been long enough so wash that gross stuff out your hair and let’s eat dinner.” you called from the kitchen as you plated the takeout food that arrived not too long ago.

You and Dabi sit at his little dinner table with the television streaming some random drama for background noise. Dinner topics for the evening range from school, homework, family news if there is any, and when to coordinate seeing each other next in between classes and your part time job. Conversations go smoothly and you’re cleaning up the kitchen when Dabi comes up behind you and presses a kiss to the back of your head, nuzzling you as you wipe the plates you just ate off of. You feel a sense of dread because every time he does that it means…

“Hey, there’s a house party this Saturday and I gotta work.”

You bite your tongue inside your mouth and exhale through your nose.

He has to work so he’ll be gone for a while, has to disperse his inventory and has to please his regulars as well as find any potential new customers.

If it was just selling, it wouldn’t be an issue.

The real issue is that you know he fucks some of his female customers. No no no, they don’t just get free coke or acid or whatever they’re asking for by spreading their legs for Dabi. He still expects cash as payment, but if he thinks they’re pretty enough then he doesn’t mind getting something extra aside from money after a sale. He’s handsome so why wouldn’t someone want to hop on his lap and go for a ride?

Dabi saves you the trouble by just being upfront about it, swears to you that you’re his favorite and that he only sees the other girls if he’s making a sale, they’re just customers. He goes to them, he goes to their location and fucks them where they meet him. None of his side whores have ever been brought back to his place, not like how he lets you in so easily when you knock on his door. He doesn’t take them out or treat them sweetly like he does with you; it’s just a sale and a fuck. It still doesn’t matter to you though, it still makes you jealous. It makes you clench your jaw in anger and want to just deck him right where his nose piercings are.

You’re his girlfriend but did that title mean anything if he was still going to sleep with other girls?

That question always rang through your mind every time he comes back smelling like one of his side whores and cash in his pocket. He’s your boyfriend but he’s been doing this since way before he met you, and he wasn’t going to stop just because you’re together. It was a condition that you pretty much forced yourself to accept from the very beginning because well… you really did like Dabi that much.

Dabi knows that it makes you upset but he’s not going to stop for your sake.

You know that he won’t.

“Fine.”

━━━━✧

If Dabi gets to fuck other girls then surely you have the right to do just the same with boys right?

The thing is though is that you did one time just right before the two of you made your relationship official, you hit up an old fuck buddy of yours while Dabi was out selling at another house party in the middle of the night. He left a measly text saying not to wait up for him and that he’d see you for breakfast. It would have been sweet if not for the fact that he came to your apartment smelling like another girl, just spending just two hours with you before flitting off into the night. Two hours of him on your sofa smelling like someone else, not even offering to shower to get their stench off, and he did his best to placate you before giving up and letting you stew in your own anger.

So you hit up your old fuck buddy and you go to him, you just get straight to the point when you’re let into his dorm and fuck your frustrations out on him. You intended to go straight back to your home but angry fucking took a lot out on you so you just spend the night there instead. “Don’t cuddle me, I’ll be gone in the morning.” you tell him after patting his cheek and pulling the blanket over your body.

It’s a quarter before eight when you’re trudging back to your apartment and you see Dabi leaning against your front door. You’re going to ask how his night was but he abruptly pulls you to him and growls in your ear to, “Get in your fucking apartment… now.”

He knows you went out to get fucked, doesn’t want to know who you went to.

You and him argue for over two hours inside your home, pacing back and forth in the living room. It’s back and forth of ‘it’s just business with those girls’ from him and ‘why shouldn’t I be allowed to do it to you?’ from you. Dabi says it’s just business and they mean nothing to him, claims to you that you hurt him more because you did it out of revenge. He really got you screaming at him after he said that but he didn’t dare back down. He stands firm and so do you, that really gets him angry with you even more.

He didn’t apologize and neither did you.

You were jabbing your finger in his chest when he grabs you by the wrist, irritation and exhaustion evident in his turquoise eyes. “Don’t fucking do that to me.” he growls at you.

“Get your fucking hands off me Dabi.” you spit back, shaking his hand off your wrist. “Get out.”

“No, we’re not leaving it like this.” he insists. “We’re fucking talk about this.”

You throw your hands up in the air in exasperation. “No, you want to ‘talk about it’ until I yield to you which is never going to happen! We’re going around in circles! You’re not going to be sorry and I’m not going to be sorry!”

A tense stare off between the two of you for a few seconds.

Next thing you know, you’re pulling off each other’s clothes and you’re forced on your hands and knees in your own bed. The only foreplay you get is a few seconds of rough kissing and Dabi spitting on his fingers to prep you as quickly as he can. When he pushes in, it’s rough and a little uncomfortable but you’re quick to adjust to the punishing pace. He pulls your hair too hard, you backhand him in the face, he spanks you until your ass is red and aching, you dig your nails into his back and scratch achingly slow down his flesh to make sure it really hurts.

Hate fucking with Dabi was a whole new level of intensity for you but you keep up with him until it turns into slow love making.

The biting, angry dirty talk from the beginning turns into whining praises; from ‘you spiteful, fucking bitch’ to ‘my pretty, little angel’.

“Fuck babydoll, you know how good you feel? I think I’ve fucked you so much that your pussy’s shaped to take just my cock. This cunt damn near drained me dry but I still want more. Cum on my cock more, tell me how bad you want it.” Dabi whispers into the skin of your shoulder before licking a trail up to your chin and pressing a kiss to your cheek.

“Ugh, baby it’s so fucking good, only you know my body like this. I don’t want it from anyone else but you… shit, I’m going to cum again!” you groan as you clamp down on him once more and your pussy strangles his cock for more cum.

You fall asleep after two hours of fucking, your head resting in the crook of his neck and his arm around your shoulders to keep you close. The both of you are all fucked out but your mind is still fixated on the fight. Despite the intimate sex that’s brought you closer together after rounds of hate fucking, it doesn’t change the fact that Dabi still fucks his customers sometimes and you’re still resentful about it.

“If it makes you feel better then fine (Name), you can fuck who you want.” Dabi says to you when the both of you wake up and are pulling your clothes back on your bodies. “But know this, if you want to be in on this then you’re just going to have to accept that I’ve been doing this since before I met you and it’s not going to stop just because we’re together. So go ahead, fuck who you want but as long as you always come back to me. I always come back to you, don’t I sweetheart?”

You’re smoothing your hair down, taking in his words before looking up at him and asking, “We’re together?”

Dabi’s eyes are full of mirth as he approaches you, pulling you close to his body and squeezing one of your asscheeks in his hand. “You’re my favorite, my number one, I like you (Name). The things I do for you, what I’ve done to you, no one else gets that from me.”

He didn’t apologize and neither did you.

But funnily enough even though he gave you permission to sleep with whoever you wanted, you didn’t really have the desire to do so. He comes to you smelling like other girls sometimes and that should be your cue to go find your own rando to hump on but you just… don’t.

Part of you wonders if Dabi is happy that you don’t go around like he does despite his blessing. You’re resentful towards yourself sometimes that you don’t go out and have some fun with someone else too. He gave you permission so you should take him up on it, that makes sense given the circumstances. Apparently the only thing that was important to him was that he always be your priority the same way that you were his.

Maybe at the time you just wanted the rush of revenge and now it was different that Dabi took that away from you by giving you permission. Maybe he knew that once he gave you the green light that you weren’t going to bother anymore with seeking anyone else out.

You were certain that he was manipulating you but you didn’t have solid evidence so there wasn’t much you could do. What the hell were you supposed to say to him?

Hey Dabi you tricked me into not sleeping with other people?

Dabi did always give you a heads up at least when he was going out to sell and he always tried to make you happy when he comes back. He offers to order in your favorite food, bring your favorite bottle of alcohol with your favorite juice to chase, eat you out until you’re a quivering mess on his mouth, or nudges half of a tablet of ecstasy in your hand and says that he just wants to put on music and house roll with you.

It still doesn’t change that you get jealous no matter how many sweet things he does for you.

But you like him enough to deal with his shenanigans… just barely.

━━━━✧

“Why don’t you come with me?” Dabi asks you as soon as you’re back from work. You’re tossing your purse onto your sofa and drop your body onto the cushions, your head in his lap and seeking his warmth. His hand goes to your head to start massaging your scalp, his fingers working magic and making you groan in pleasure. “Come with me tomorrow doll.”

You roll your eyes and turn your head to look at whatever show Dabi was watching while he was waiting for you. “To watch you flourish your business? I don’t think so. I’ll stay behind like I usually do.” you scoff, pressing your cheek against his leg and sighing.

He’s never asked for you to come along before, he doesn’t need the distraction of babysitting you. You wonder what’s caused him to ask you to tag along.

“Come on doll, just come along. Odds are I won’t be coming back the night of the party and Keigo will be there tomorrow, he can keep you company.”

Ah you loved Keigo, he was the only one that Dabi really considered to be a friend to him. Maybe it was because he could keep up with your boyfriend in regards to their drug consumption but you could see that they had a bond beyond just getting high together, more than just pills or powders or tabs that keeps them together. Together they both seemed like laid back individuals but Dabi only seemed laid back due to how apathetic he was whereas Keigo was actually a chill person because that’s how he actually was, it wasn’t just the air about him that made him seem so.

You loved being with Keigo, he always spoiled you silly and made you laugh.

“I don’t know, what exactly will I get out of it?” you shrug your shoulders and huff out quietly.

Suddenly two little baggies come into your view, one filled with white powder and the other with a little pink tablet. “Is this supposed to be a bribe to get me to come along?” you ask, staring at the bags and not bothering to take them from your boyfriend’s fingertips. You won’t lie that it is a little bit tempting, just a little bit.

“Maybe so, you know that my merchandise for you is discounted doll. Nothing but the best for you, my shit is always clean.” Dabi shakes the little baggies as if the contents are going to be more enticing if he does so. There’s definitely a big truth to what he said, the quality to his inventory is nothing less than superb. It’s why his clientele always kept on coming back to him but the absolute best was either for his favorites or it was apart of his own personal stash.

You’re staring hard at the baggies and start debating in your mind. Dabi would still give it to you even if you insisted that you stay home but there was no fun in doing it alone. You had some friends that could help you kill the coke if you asked them over but god forbid they start feening, that’s when they became difficult to deal with. There was no point in you holding onto them either if you weren’t going to do anything with them right away.

Since Keigo was going to be at the party tomorrow and if Dabi was going to give the baggies no matter what…

“Alright, only since Keigo is going to be there. Nothing else.” you give in and pluck the two baggies from Dabi’s hand and sit up on the sofa. “Now how much do I owe you for your merchandise sir?”

Dabi smirks at you as he crawls over you until you’re lying flat on your back, like you’re his prey and he’s the predator. “Just your usual payment madame, if you please.”

Morning Of and After

SMILF Jesse X Female Reader

Summary: You meet Jesse in a bar and take him home. Masterlist

Word count: 3.3k words

Warning(s): +17 | swearing, drunk sex, porn with(out) plot (?), p in v sex, from behind, morning angst, mutual masterbation

AN: bitch I watched a 30 second clip of a tv show JUST to see an underdressed Alex Brightman. What has my life come to. Ah well, I'm gonna enjoy it while I can. Blame these lovely, inspiring fools @hoodoo12 @go-commander-kim @escape-your-grape

Jesse's not sure why you were hanging off of him at the bar but he's basking in your attention now. You didn't hesitate to give the cabbie your address, arm permanently looped around his shoulders for balance. You had both been drinking– exactly how much was a mystery– and Jesse was eager for a breakthrough in his dry spell. 

Your lips are wet and on each other as he kicks your door closed. Pulling your clothes from your body proves a little difficult, especially with you wrestling to take off his. He catches a case of the giggles when you get his head stuck in his shirt but the laughter quickly turns into a moan when he feels you slip a hand into his underwear to fondle his junk. He remembers gripping your wrist like iron and ripping his shirt from his face. He gives you a gentle push backwards, right onto the edge of your bed (he didn't know that was there but he would have been happy to take you on the floor too). 

Your top is misaligned but far from off, however you are bare from the waist down and wrap your legs around his hips to pull him towards you. Jesse's just as desperate and he slips his pants down midthigh, then stops to rummage in his pocket for a condom. He has to bat your grabby little hands away or he won't last. It's a little hard to see through the haze of lust and alcohol but he manages, and then he's pressing you into the mattress leaning on an elbow and sliding his fingers through your slick folds. 

He groans and plants a kiss on your mouth. "Fuck you're wet..." 

The man wastes no time and hooks two fingers inside you, eager to stretch you out and make you come now because you're fucking gorgeous and it's driving him to the edge without any stimulation. 

You mewl beneath him, nails scratching his scalp and chest heaving as if begging for his attention. Jesse's mouth waters heavily as he sloppily licks and sucks at your breasts, pushing your top aside and just nipping at the lace bra still intact. He has no idea how high you are until your inner walls contract around his fingers so hard he worries they might break. And with a practiced motion, he eases you down from your orgasm, fingers slowing down until he slips them out. 

And just for the hell of it, he flicks your clit and feels you jump beneath him. Suddenly your teeth are digging into his neck and he howls. 

"Fuck me already," you growl. 

You spread your legs wider to fit his hips to the center and drag him into another rough kiss. Jesse has some trouble maneuvering with his pants half on, but he catches the head on your lip and pushes in groaning at the familiar feeling of being engulfed. Bottoming out inside you sends an electric tingling sensation down his spine and he has to stop for a moment and catch his breath. 

He feels your feet sliding up his thighs, one foot still in a heel which catches on his waistband. His hips give a test rock and you moan against his collarbone, legs twitching at his sides. 

Jesse sets a subtle pace, rocking into your heat and drooling a little. You feel so fucking good underneath him, so right, like eating apple pie on the Fourth of July. His balls start to tighten and he almost lets go, but the feeling of your pussy twitching draws his attention to your face. You're close to coming again but not anywhere near where he is. The sloppy drunk part of him wants to just keep going and finish but the real Jesse wants this to be good for you too and what's a little second orgasm between drunk strangers? 

He pulls out and despite your immediate protests, you quickly become curious when Jesse's hands push and pull on you as if trying to move you. 

"What are you doing?" 

His chin has a small glisten and his eyes are so watery. There are hickeys forming on his neck and a scratch or two rising on his shoulder. The hairy expanse of his chest is turning red from friction and he looks as unreal as a dream until he says, "turn over." 

Your legs twitch and you definitely soak the quilt on your bed. Did you hear him right? This guy? Soft, pretty boy who was just a second ago gently rocking your world? 

He licks his lips and says, "turn around. I wanna do it the other way. On your knees." 

Fuck. Well you're definitely shaking with excitement as you fulfill his command. You finally manage to slip your top off and fling it into the abyss off the bed. You wiggle your hips into the requested position and shiver as a warm hand slides up your spine. Another warm hand locks around your hip and you feel him enter you with no resistance. The rough material of his jeans scratches at your thighs as he begins to thrust, longer strokes that leave you empty and full, empty and full again. You quickly slide off of your elbows and press your face into the blanket, loving the way he seems to lose himself again inside you. 

God, does he even know he's moaning right now? It's so hot, somehow hotter than him driving his cock deep inside you. The slapping sound of his hips against your ass sendings endorphins straight to your head. After Jesse breathes another 'fuck,' you slither a hand underneath your body to circle your clit. The first touch of your fingers to your sticky little button causes you to tighten around Jesse's cock and you hear him choke. He leans over your back and settles a hand on the bed to proper himself up, changing the angle of his thrusts and hitting some spot deep inside you that makes you see stars. 

"Fuck, so good," Jesse mumbles, sweaty forehead pressing against your shoulder. "Mmmm… gonna come…" 

Fuck that's exactly what you needed to hear. Your whole body turns tuat like a bow string and your walls constrict into a vice. Your legs quiver from the strong shocks of your orgasm, forcing a long, broken moan to escape your chest and black to creep into your vision. 

Your orgasm is the end of your partner. Jesse's hips stutter to a stop as he fills up the condom, unable to breath for a few seconds as he forgets his name, his location, and his sense of self and all there is left is you. Eventually Jesse's soul slams back into his body and he collapses his full weight on top of you unintentionally crushing you. He feels you laughing and at the urge of an elbow in his ribs, he rolls over and off of you. You're still giggling, boneless and satisfied as you try to catch your breath. 

You turn your head towards him to look over his blissful features. His skin glistens in the half light and he's probably seconds from falling asleep. You put a hand out on his chest and shake him awake despite yourself, knowing you need to clean up. 

"Up," you command. 

Jesse shifts off of the bed sluggishly, disposing of the condom in the bin by your desk and grabbing the waistband of his jeans like he's not sure what to do with them. You reach out mischievously and slap his ass causing him to yelp and look back at you in disbelief. 

"Take those off and get back here." You fling the quilt of your bed off and curl under the topsheet with a hand out to him. 

Jesse looks confused. He moves slowly, crawling back in naked and incapable of meeting your eyes. You place a guiding hand to help him lay his head on your silk encased pillow. "Stay," you command, and dip into the bathroom to clean up. 

Jesse lies awake but not for long, his body thumps with the beat of his heart and it lulls him to sleep. He's snoring softly when you come back and flip the lights off. 

~

Jesse's head is pounding in the morning, but he's had it worse. Like way worse. The bedroom curtains are drawn but the sun is direct and the light reflects off the walls a little too strongly for his liking. You look pretty in nothing but sheets and it's turning him on a little bit. 

What the fuck was a girl like you doing with a guy like him anyways, he wondered, over his skinnier and better looking friends? And then he wondered, how much did you have to drink last night? It unnerves him that he doesn't know the answer. You left the bar together but you didn't walk in together, who knows how many jager bombs or tequila shots you had before you met him? 

Jesse's really hyped himself up now, his hands are getting clammy and he's about to start fidgeting if he doesn't figure something out soon. When you wake up will you remember him? Did you know his name like he knew yours? Would you throw him out in disgust? Maybe you were the type who took them home because you knew they'd be gone at first light. Maybe you liked it that way. 

Jesse takes a deep breath to steel himself. He's intent on thinking things through until… until he realizes it took 10 minutes. From the time you entered the apartment to the time he came, it took 10 minutes. Oh god… that is the nail in the coffin for him. 

He slides out of bed as quietly as possible. His face is hot and his hands are cold as he slips into his underwear, then his pants. He lets his feet carry him out of the bedroom and into the hallway where he finds his shirt, and he gets distracted looking at your soaked lace underwear as he reaches for the keys by the door. 

You actually live really close to his work, which is where he left his car last night. If he can just get some distance maybe he can think better. He could probably use a tylenol more than anything right now. 

Jesse's waiting for a light to change at a crosswalk when he realizes these are not his keys. All regrets about leaving his phone number on a paper somewhere at your place go out the window when he realizes he doesn't have his phone either. 

"Fuck," he mutters in defeat.  

Returning back to your apartment is the real walk of shame. He hopes someone will stop him, ask him if he lives around here or something so he can chicken out and maybe get a friend to get his stuff back. The cute like trinkets hanging off your car keys do give him some interesting insight into the things you like. 

He can't remember if he left the door unlocked and celebrates when he doesn't have to knock and wake you up. He probably should have clued in when he heard the sound of a sink turning off, but he's actually more hungover than he thought. He fully freezes like a deer in headlights when you appear with a towel on your head and fresh lounging clothes. 

The look you give him should have turned him to stone. "Hey Jesse. Forget something?" 

He opens his mouth and nothing but a weak "heeeeyyy," escapes. His mouth flaps like a fish and he suddenly remembers to put your keys back from where he found them. Busted. "I ee I was just going out to grab some coffee… and like a tylenol… but guess I grabbed the wrong keys, hahah..." 

The twist of your mouth is a little cruel. You let the towel rest on your shoulders and toss him his keys from the kitchen counter, warm hand lingering over his heart in an affectionate but threatening way. "Coffee sounds good. There's a shop a mile that way, honest to god espresso and cheaper prices than the usual dig. I'm sure I've got a bottle of tylenol somewhere around here, I should find it by the time you come back." 

Oh...K? Are you… planning something? Should he fear for his safety? Apologize? Not knowing what else to do (and distracted by the feeling of you caressing his chest), Jesse simply nods and turns to obey you. Only at the door does he turn back and gesture with his key hand, "you uh, haven't seen my phone, have you?" 

You're smiling. You've got no bra on beneath your baseball tee, hair soaking your shoulders, and tiny tiny shorts with pockets– a pocket carrying what he clearly recognizes as his phone– and you're smiling. 

"I like my coffee strong. Just tell them my name, they'll know what to make." Jesse doesn't know what else to do except sputter and leave. 

~

It would have been a short walk but it's an even shorter drive. Jesse stands in line assessing the menu with his hands in his pockets. You were mad at him. 

Ok, that was fair. 

You were upset that he left you without a goodbye and had stupidly forgotten his things and had to come crawling back. So you weren't that kind of person. He knows that now. But you also weren't screaming at him or begging him to stick around. 

Jesse didn't know what to think of your reaction. But you knew his name. He told you his name in the cab and if you remembered it's because you weren't blackout drunk. That's good for both of you. You didn't seem too hungover either, maybe you'd had less to drink than he did or at least the same. This is good, these were good things. 

It didn't make going back to your place less terrifying though. 

~

You left the front door cracked and Jesse pushed his way in with a cup in each hand. "Boy, they sure do like you down at that coffee shop! Extra this and extra that. I'd kill to have a place like me like that." 

You seem… calmer now. The tension in your movement is gone and you peck his lips with a kiss as you take your coffee. You reach around him to shut the door and walk to the couch expecting him to follow (and of course like a dog on a leash, he did). You passed him a tylenol and took a few yourself, washing them down with your drink before leaning back with your arm over your eyes. 

"I'm sorry," Jesse blurts out. You peak at him from under your arm. "I… I didn't know if you wanted to see me when you woke up so I…" 

You snort. "Jesse, honey. If I didn't like you, you would have never made it to my room. Not even close. And if I didn't want to see you in the morning–" 

You sat up and pressed yourself almost into his lap– "I would have fucked you at the club." 

Now is not the time for a boner, this was a serious conversation. In any case, you eased up on your dominating stance and fell into his side like you belonged there. It felt nice. You smelled like fresh laundry and peaches (definitely your body wash or something), and weren't mad at him anymore. In fact you passed his phone to him and settled back. Jesse wrapped an arm around you and rested his cheek on your head. He had almost drifted back to sleep when his text tone dinged. 

MASON: Where the fuck are you? 

Jesse sighed. You knew exactly what that sound meant and became determined not to let him go without a fight, but Jesse stopped you from climbing into his lap very firmly, by flipping you onto your back and holding you down. He can't help but blush, his ears turning red as he glares at you. 

"I have. To go," he scolds. "My buddy Mason's got this project he needs help with and I promised I'd be there to help him move his stuff." 

You whine, grabbing his wrists and sliding his hands up to cover your breasts. "Can't it wait a little longer? We can be fast." 

Jesse's brain short circuits and his hands inadvertently flex. "What?" 

He knows your nipples are hard because he can feel them, and you're looking at him in that way that makes his pants tighter. You don't have to say it but when you do, he falls hook line and sinker. "Come on, babe. Round 2? Before you go?" 

How could he say no to that?

Jesse kisses you roughly. His hands squeeze your tits before he plants one to hold himself up and the other to draw you closer so he can grind his hips into yours. You gasp, pulling at his hair and then fumbling with his pants for a second just as you change your mind. Jesse protests as you push him backwards, then he stares as you slide those tiny shorts off. He goes right to circling your clit with his thumb and takes a long look at the dark spot on your new panties. 

"So easy to get you wet," he praises, swiping his thumb down over the wet patch before returning to his pronounced circular motions. 

You let him toy with you, feet resting on his shoulders until you remember your little game. you gently kick his hand away and replace it with your own, sliding the fabric aside and making him watch two of your fingers glide deep inside you. Jesse groans, intent to help out but you stop him. 

"Just me," you gasp. "Just you." 

Jesse seems momentarily confused. Then you see it click in his head and he scrambles to take his cock out, already fully erect and dark in color. He starts to stroke himself, eyes bouncing around your form and drinking in the sight of your self administered pleasure. His eyes roll back at the squelching sound filling the space between you, continuing to stroke himself with a dry rasp. 

Jesse calls your name and grasps your wrist. His tongue swirls around your fingers hungrily to suck the slick from them, groaning as he does. It's a moment's distraction as his own fings dip into your wet heat and come out coated in more. He replaces his soaked hand on his cock and strokes with renewed vigor. 

"God," he hums. It feels so good, watching you watch him is turning him on way more than he thought it would. He's getting close to coming at the thought of painting your stomach when his phone starts ringing. 

He grows an annoyed glance at the offending device, then does a double take and pounces. "Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck– hey boss!" 

You looked at him, completely stunned. Jesse pretended not to notice you and listened intently to the voice on his phone, nodding his head absently and to your horror, tucking his cock back into his pants. He doesn't look too happy about it, but he swallows his pride and tells his boss he'll 'be right there.' 

He's already apologizing as he pulls you up from the couch and sets your clothes right. Jesse peppers your sour face in light kisses, rubbing your arms as if to soothe you from a blinding rage. 

"I promise I'll make it up to you," he says donning his jacket. "I don't know when or how but I will I–" 

"Arcade. Thursday. 7 pm." You zip up his jacket and glare at him so he knows there's no room for argument. 

He smiles, "I can't wait," he drops a hearty kiss to your lips. "Thursday, 7 pm. Want me to pick you up?" 

"Only if you plan on staying the night." 

"That's a yes then." Jesse leaves and you cannot wait for Thursday.

Stoner Hawks being on patrol with him and maybe having a fire quirk (Dabi’s sis blue flames but you know Endevor don’t know that maybe she knows Dabi is her brother and knew that he ran away and never told her dad about it and how often she sees him but n e way she’s a hero did the whole UA thing) and being on patrol on top a building Keigo rolls a joint and moves on in readers direction like “can you spark it?🥺” maybe just smoking maybe some smut

this made me sO soft, like yes stoner hawks being the cutest 🥺 i got a little carried away with it, and somehow it ended up being 2.1k long ( ´◡‿ゝ◡`) thank u sm for requesting, i loved it.

stoner!takami with a todoroki!reader.

summary; in the request.

genre; fluff, smut.

warnings; daddy kink, praise kink, breeding kink, oral (receiving-giving), curse words, idk fucking(? smut in general.

word count; 2.1k

author's note; don't judge me it's my first time writing smut ):

 your phone rang in the pocket of your hero costume, the id showing a smiley keigo. despite knowing what was about to happen, you couldn't avoid your own smile. as you answered, the first thing you heard was wind on his side of the line, you sighed, he was probably calling while flying, again.

"one of this days, you're going to crash against a plane" his melodic laugh reached through the speaker. damn, how could you stay mad when he's laughing like that?

"i'm going to assume you're already at our spot, gorgeous" this time you laughed, nervously, takami hated waiting more than anything, and there you were, thirty minutes away from your meeting point. "send me your location, i'm picking you up" and just as fast, he hung up. flying with him was a better idea than running through the city by yourself, therefore, you did as he said.

a giggle escaped your mouth, he had that effect on you, despite of knowing each other for that long. it didn't matter how many times he called you pretty, gorgeous, angel, your face instantly heated up. and he loved it, it gave you a fake innocence, that he sure knew was oly a facade. in less than five minutes, his mighty figure covered the sun above you, looking like that, he could easily be confused by an angel send from heaven.

"i know i'm hot, but you're drooling a bit" takami, the endless teaser.

"let's just go" he picked you up, bridal style, gaining a few curious glares.

your relationship, if you could call it that, had always been a subject of gossip. not you nor him had either confirmed it or deny the rumors about it, truth be told, not even you knew what you were. it was more than friendship, but not as committed as an actual couple. you were used to kiss him, sleep with him, get high with him, and that was enough. there were feelings between, from both parts, but this was the best way. two heroes, in the peak of their careers, had no time for anything else. the ride to your usual vigilance spot was short, hawks flying at a dangerous speed, despite your complete trust in him, you still wondered if he could drop you.

"what took you so long?" he asked, once you were sitting in the edge of the tall building. you sighed, to keep that secret from him was exhausting, at least.

"my brother called".

an awkward silence grew, takami knew you were endeavor's oldest daughter, his pride and joy, wether you liked it or not. obviously he knew your brother had to be endeavor's lost son, touya. what you had kept to yourself was he went now by the name dabi, a faithful follower of the hero killer's ideals.

"is he okay?"

"mhm, he needed money".

keigo wasn't going to tell you this, but every time you said you brother called because he needed something, his blood boiled in his veins. ignoring the fact that he had to stay hidden, for some reason you wouldn't say, to hawks it seemed like he only reached out to you out of material need, meanwhile you were always preocuppied with his well. takami's hand found its way to yours, even wtih gloves you could feel his warmness. 

"oh, right, i-i've been saving this for us" he took a small plastic bag out of his pocket, letting you see those green herbs. by the looks, it had to be more expensive than usual. you gasped, in a really cute way, hawks thought. no words were needed, he grindered the pot before rolling a joint. his tongue appeared to seal it, looking straight into your eyes while licking it. he knew exactly what he was doing. "may you do the honors, angel face" a small blue flame igniciate in the tip of your index finger, just as he inhale for the first time.

takami, covered in a cloud of smoke, holding a blunt on his hand, adding that chilled look in his face. was certainly a sight to see.

unspokenly, he handed it over to you. with a smile on you face, you hit it for the first time. for a while, non of you talked, just enjoying each other's company, in fact, those moments with keigo were you favorite, you didn't have to worry for anything besides him. and he thought the same, there, he could stop being hawks, he could be just keigo, your long term friend, leaving all the responsabilities of being a hero in the ground. with you, he felt like flying.

by pure coincidence, he caught you looking at his profile. the moonlight made you have a different kind of glow, like a fairy, he thought. almost withouth realizing, he leaned over to you, his lips seeking yours rather desperately. his hand wondered to your hair, finding its place in the back of your neck, pulling you closer and making sure you weren't escaping. his experimented tongue made its way into your mouth, going through every place he already knew like it was the first time. he tasted like smoke. once he knew you were on the same page, he pushed you back on solid ground, laying on top of you. a moan left your lips, drowned by his own mouth, when his still dressed hips impacted against you. 

every touch was being enhanced by the effect of the pot. he pulled away, breaking the moment. he needed to look at you, your lust filled eyes, your half opened mouth. it was enough to get him hard in his pants. with a quick movement, he took out his gloves, fastly moving to take off your complicated hero costume. maybe it was because he was blown out of his mind, or he was just to eager to see your naked body, but he had a serious struggle doing it, making a soft giggle leave your throat. 

"you could help me instead of laughing at me" he whined, jokingly upset.

"and miss the hawks having troubles with a bra? i don't think so" that seemed to made him even more anxious, you knew he was done when a small "finally" was whispered.

between laughs, giggles and smirks, he got back on top of yours. he liked to feel you naked underneath him, having you to his complete disposal, and not losing a single item of his clothes. you weren't letting him enjoy the moment to much, a girl has her need, and touching his work out abs was certainly a need. you removed his shirt, smiling at his messy hair. 

he started to leave a trace of kisses from your lips to you r collarbone, licking, biting, leaving small dark marks on your skin. just at that, you became a moaning mess, there was something so dirty about takami marking your body.

"babygirl, i haven't even started" with that, you closed your eyes, giving into pleasure as his kisses got lower and lower. when he got to your breast, your nipples were already hard, expecting to feel his wet mouth any moment now. but that wasn't all that happened, almost at the same time, you felt a hand opening its way to your drenched cunt. "look at that, you're already so wet from my mouth only".

his tongue circle you nip at a killing pace, while two fingers found their way inside you without any warning. so thight, he said, his mind already thinking on how well you could take his cock. with his thumb in the perfect position, he started massaging your swollen clit. all you could do was melt in his touch. his free hand reached to the last bit of the blunt, which rested at a safe distance. he got up, leaving you kneeled in front of him.

"open your mouth, princess" despite his loving tone, he wasn't asking, so you did as you were told and watched him hit the last of the joint, keeping as much smoke as he could beofre leaning towards you. with a kiss, he shared it with you, entangling your tongues. he licked your lips, getting back up, his hand resting on the waist of his pants. "you're gonna be a good girl, aren't you, princess?" he got his hips so close to your face that your mouth watered.

"yes, daddy" you knew calling him that was a trigger. he took out his fat dick outside his pants, so hard that it was starting to hurt. his hand placed on the back of your head, guiding you to your objective. 

as soon as your lips wrapped around the tip of his cock, he let out a unsually deep growl. takami never lasted that long, and being under the inffluence of weed wasn't helping. he couldn't even look down at you, the sight of your angel face, looking so fucking pretty while sucking him off, he was barely controlling himself from your noises. you struggled, gagging every once in a while, but never stopped, he loved to see the tears in your eyes. when he felt close, his dick twitch in your mouth, you tasted the precum coming out of him. before doing it, he pulled your hair back, avoiding it.

"my baby, you do it so good, do you think you deserve a reward?" to those words, you couldn't help but moan. his hand held your chin, making you look straight into his eyes.  

"please, daddy, please eat me out" he felt like losing his mind hearing you begging like that, who was him to deny it. a kiss left in your lips, before kneeling down facing your wet, juicy, cunt. thanks for the meal, he thought.

his tongue worked wonders. the second he met your needy clit, you were actually watching the stars. the ability he had, going between your folds, sucking just in the right spot, fucking you with his tongue. he had you a screaming and drooling mess in a minute.

"daddy! oh god, yes! there, keep going, please! fuck me, yes!" he loved hearing you going crazy because of him, he loved being able to do as he pleased with you. he could hear your moans forever. 

he knew you too well, instantly he could tell you were close to cum, he wasn't going to let that happen, he wanted you to cum in his dick, breaking your back, leaving you so fucked up you wouldn't be able to walk afterwards. feeling him leave you on the edge was torture. 

"are you so desperate for me, little bird?" he crawled to you, placing his hips on top of yours. you weren't even thinking when he kissed you, loving the thought of you tasting yourself. you wrapped your hands around his neck, reaching his back, if there was something he liked was you scratching his back until it bleed.

with a slow, gentle hursh, he deepend inside you, admiring the image of you closing your eyes at the pain. even prepared and lubed, he was just too big for you. as he felt you adptaing, his pace got faster and harder, his hands grabbed tightly into your hips, probably leaving bruises afterwards. in less than a minute, he already had a constant pace inside you, hitting your spot with every thurst. you whimpers and his groans mixed in the air. one of his hands travelled to your neck, applying a little pressure on it while his thumb fitted in your mouth. that was the view he wanted to see for his whole life. 

"you're such a slut, baby girl, but you're my slut, right?" you sucked his thumb, your mind couldn't form coherent words and his finger didn't let you speak. "oh yes, cum with me, princess, cum for daddy" his words were like music to your ears. 

the orgasm you repressed for a while felt so close, when you finally reached it, your walls clenched around his dick even harder than before, a scream of pleasure filling the atmosphere. not long after, you felt his warm cum exploding inside you, his grab hardened and a moan left his lips. he stayed there for a while, retaking his breath.his wings served as a wall for the cold wind running. finally, he retired from you, laying at your side while hugging you with one of his arms.

you looked at him, despite not being your actuall boyfriend, he loved you as much as you loved him. though tired, the fuzzy feeling inside you didn't stop, you wondered if it was just you being still high as a rocket, or if that's what love felt like.

finished with time to spare this time! I actually had this mostly done yesterday, but real-life stuff came up and I couldn't clean things up until today

AUgust Day 3: Timestuck

(prev) || (next)

"I can't do this." Ford grumbles, his attention fixed on keeping his breathing regular. In the mirror, he can see how awful he looks, how the scant hour or so of sleep and the shower he'd been wrangled into taking have done little to fix his flagrant exhaustion and disheveled appearance. Perhaps it's simply an inevitability, at this point. "There's no way this is actually going to work."

From her perch on the tyrannosaurus specimen (he has, at this point, given up on asking her to stop treating it like some manner of novelty furniture), half-engrossed in her knitting, Mabel shoots back a cheery, "of course it will! You have the Power of Mabel on your side!"

The girl, the one who'd shown up on his doorstep barely a week ago with more knowledge about himself and his work than any ignorant person would have and insisted she was 'his beloved great-niece from the future here to help him prevent his greatest mistake'. The notion had been ludicrous, of course, but then she'd proven herself (relatively) unaffiliated with a certain someone, and flashed him her comically small hand-held telephone (the one she has since refused to let him properly examine, claiming 'the 'time police' won't appreciate her altering the flow of time too much' or something similarly ridiculous), and shown him a digital photograph of two old men standing on some sort of boat and flashing the camera matching grins.

She'd claimed was his future self and the estranged brother he's done his best to not give much thought over the past decade, and though he doubts the validity of that quite a bit Stanford had been forced to concede that maybe the girl was telling some form of the truth. She may be family, temporally displaced or not, but that doesn't mean she can be trusted. There's still the distinct possibility that this is some elaborate trick from his former muse, a ruse to get him back under the demon's control.

Given that she's taken to removing all of the effigies of said muse around the house that he hasn't had the energy to dispose of, has been seemingly unconcerned about the whereabouts of his journals after he'd assured her they were safe, and almost nonchalant about (or at least not upset with him over) the reality-ending doomsday machine under their feet, that detail may also be more plausible than he'd initially thought.

"Well," the girl corrects, setting one needle aside as she gets the next skein of yarn out from beside her, "I'm not an 'actual' love-god or anything, but the last couple I set up turned out perfect for each other, after we got passed the whole everyone-freaking-out thing!"

This is less than reassuring, and Stanford feels his anxiety start to spike again.

His jacket, the only one remotely clean until they can get the washer functional, is littered with stains and has a jagged tear in the arm where he'd caught it somewhere that hasn't yet been repaired. His hair refuses to lie flat, and the bags under his eyes. He's also wearing an ill-fitting navy sweater vest from his college days she'd dragged from some remote closet. And the scarf she's currently knitting him- silver, cobalt, and maroon- doesn't quite feel appropriate for the thawed (if still a bit chilly) spring weather. Altogether he looks downright frightening.

"Look at me, Grunkle Ford," she commands, the project set on the skull as she gets to her feet. Grunkle because he is, apparently, her estranged Great-Uncle, and should be responsible for taking care of her, even if their relationship largely feels reversed. Whether she's Sherman's grandchild or Stanl otherwise remains to be seen. "What's the absolute worst thing that could happen?"

"He'll hate me." The answer comes automatically. "He has every reason to be furious, after everything I've done. I wouldn't be surprised if the mere sight of me was enough to set him off. This evening may- no, it's quite likely to turn sour, if not violent, unless I'm wrong."

Mabel makes some sympathetic sound, starting to offer some counterpoint, but Stanford keeps going, unable to help himself.

"O-Or, if your estimate is correct, he may have already erased me from his memories entirely. What if he doesn't remember me, what if-"

"Then you'll just have to remind him who you are again," Mabel is suddenly next to him, her little hands warm on his arm. "I know it's scary, Grunkle Ford, but it's gonna be okay. He agreed to do this, he wants to see you. You just have to stop overthinking things and trust me a teeny little bit."

Stanford opens his mouth to protest, but nothing comes out. His nerve falters, and when she tugs on his sleeve, he bends down to let her wrap her arms around his chest.

After a long moment, he pulls away, turning back to the mirror and going back to trying to get his greasy hair to cooperate. "In any case, I don't think you're right about Fiddleford's intentions. I was his roommate throughout both of our college careers, and if he was, ah, interested, in that way, I feel like it would have come up at some point." He doesn't say a word regarding his own feelings, hoping against all likelihood that Mabel won't needle him further on the subject.

"Oh my god, you were roommates..." She snorts under her breath, trotting back to her seat on the tyrannosaurus skull and resuming her work on the scarf. He's not sure how long she's intending to make it, but the thing is long enough now that it'll have to loop around his shoulders multiple times, and if it grows any further Stanford may have to worry about it getting in his way. After a moment of giggling to herself, Mabel seems to realize she didn't address his actual concern, and shoots him a measuring look. "Well, he did seem pretty excited about the whole 'going out' with you thing, so there's that. And if he doesn't feel that way, you know this doesn't have to be a date-date, right?"

A blink at that, and Stanford says nothing, cheeks growing pink.

The silence that settles over the room is thick, but oddly comfortable.

"Okay, I think this is done!" Mabel eventually chimes, tucking her last stitch in, and holding the finished scarf up for him to see. It looks very well-made- Ford would even be inclined to believe it was professionally crafted if he hadn't been here to watch her knit it. "I was gonna put little tassels on the end for you to fidget with, but I don't think I have enough extra material, and I definitely don't have any time."

"I see," Ford hums, taking the gift with great care. "It's, ah, it's certainly quite lengthy..."

She preens at that, shooting him a bright grin. "I know! I wanted to make sure you had enough room to go to Scarf Town, if you needed." She rocks on her toes, not really giving him the space to ask before showing what she means, pulling the neck of her sweater up and covering her face so she can hide in the thick fabric. "It's not as nice as Sweater Town, but that vest looks really good on you, and adult-sized sweaters take forever."

When Mabel comes back out of 'Sweater Town', Stanford has the scarf around his neck, the fabric wide enough to easily obscure his mouth, if he so wished. The thick material sits comfortingly heavy on his shoulders, and the scent of something that isn't drenched in days-old anxiety-sweat is more reassuring than he'd anticipated. "Thank you, Mabel, this is wonderful. In fact, I think I," he manages, taking a breath and collecting himself, "I think I might be ready now, actually."

"Good!" Mabel huffs, and for a second she's the picture of someone else, rolling her sleeves up seeming to square her jaw. "Now quit stalling. If you need me, I'll be having an argument with a unicorn."

Idk if anyone told you but the MVA OST leaked, with themes for both the League and the MLA. If you haven't listened to it yet, please do! And if you have, what are your thoughts? I think Mine Woman and RE-DESTRO slap for 2 characters that got shafted hard by canon so I appreciate them a lot.

I have listened to them, and I like several of them! I feel like I need to lead with that, because I'm about to add some criticism about my previous responses to BNHA's score for context, so it's important to know that I genuinely do enjoy quite a few of these.

So, I haven't listened to a lot of Yuki Hayashi's scores, but he's definitely done work I've liked! He composed the music for several of the more recent PreCure shows, including their movies; I particularly loved his finale for the 15th anniversary film, which prominently featured a truly delightful medley of every team's opening theme. I'm also very fond of some of his pieces for Kiznaiver and Welcome to the Ballroom.

His BNHA work, though, I feel like suffers from two main problems: the tracks are too short to work up a good head, and yet, despite that short length, they sometimes feel exhaustingly over the top. (Did Shigaraki's theme really need crying children to get across the point that he's bad news?) I've long felt that the BNHA anime wants me to feel like everything is way more Epic and Stirring and Dramatic than I actually find the material to be, so curiously, the music winds up having a distancing effect rather than drawing me in. This is frequently compounded by placement choices that feel so staggeringly poor that I'm often left wondering whether the staff chose the music out of a hat! (Seriously, why does a fairly rote test of character in Nighteye's office warrant doom choirs?)

As to the MVA tracks specifically, I wish there could have been tracks that sounded a bit more fun or heroic, given that the League in MVA really are the heroes for the arc, complete with Shigaraki suddenly having access to Shonen Nakama Tropes and getting all these little comedic reaction takes. It'd be nice if the music could cue in and let the League have some aural triumph without being all doom all the time ("Oh, no! The villains are winning!" Yes, they are; let them have this for one arc, would you?)

But that said, I do rather like most of these! There are some that I do suspect will fall prey to the This Is Too Much Drama, Would You Please Ratchet Back? problem, but there are also some that I can imagine playing better in the context of the show than they do in isolation, and some that feel like they could even be exactly what I was dreaming about, if they go where I hope they will. For some individual thoughts, see below:

The Mission of the Stealth Hawks: A reasonable enough little tense atmospheric piece. Doesn't jump out at me.

Different Ability Liberation Army: I always approach the MLA as styling themselves as an army, but in reality being more of a sect--far more cult than militia-- I appreciate that if they can't have a good dramatic march despite having Army, like, right there in the title, I'm glad I could get church bells instead. On the whole, though, this is a good example of the first problem I mentioned having with Hayashi's work for BNHA--his pieces tend to be pretty short, and it takes them so long to land on a melody that by the time they find one, there's hardly any time to develop it before the song ends. Even a lot of the hero pieces are like that, and the villain songs, even more so. That said, I do like the horror strings that creep in around the 1.25 mark, blossom at 1.45, and float on through 2.10. I just wish they went on longer. Admittedly, "erratic church bells and horror strings" is still not the choice I would have made for the MLA's main theme. I really would have preferred something with a more militant air; as it is, this sort of feels like it scores a creepy prologue that plays before the opening credits kick in and then the episode proper starts. Which isn't a bad description for the way the dinner scene played in the manga, but thanks to the anime's decision to reshuffle everything, I don't think that dinner scene's going to maintain that feeling of "prologue" when we finally get to it.

My Villain Academia: Better on the melodic front; I enjoy the drama at .43, the dancing tension at 1.05, and particularly the minor strings from 1.25 that just keep climbing until everything else drops out around 2.10. I do wish it found a better place to end rather than noodling on for a further thirty seconds, but the melody will get a more central, and more bombastic, treatment in the final track, so it's probably okay for it to trail off here. (It's also apparently a reprise of a villain theme from the very first season's OST, which is rad. More on that in the Track 11 blurb.)

Second Coming: This is a bizarre one because, while I complained that Hayashi's BNHA tracks are usually short, this one is a full six and a half minutes--except that it falls clearly into movements of about a minute each, with clear lulls in between. I wish it was twelve minutes and everything was twice as long! As it is, I'm highly doubtful that we're going to hear this one played in its entirety anywhere, since I can't imagine what scenes would require this specific sequence of musical passages at this length. 0.00 - 1.01: I love that the song kicks in comparatively quickly; the first minute's passage has a great, thrumming drive that very nearly hits major key towards the end. 1.02 - 1.53: The drive picks up pace in the second minute before the chorus arrives, and for once, I am very prepared to love a BNHA choir piece. I hope this is what plays when Deika's going up in ash. 1.54 - 3.01: I love the melodic line being carried by the intentionally hard to distinguish violin and whatever brass instrument the violin's trading off with in the third minute. It's bit out of place with the rest of the track, but I like it quite a bit on its own, and it does have a similar sound as some of the "dirty" brass in RE-DESTRO and Mine Woman. It's probably too long for RD's childhood flashback, but I wonder if it'll play for an MLA character somewhere? 3.02 - 4.07: The fourth minute has some very fun drums, but otherwise doesn't jump out at me as much of the rest of the track. I'm very curious to know when this will play, though. 4.08 - 5.32: The fifth minute, god bless, has some proper march drums--I like this passage a lot, particularly when it come back in the sixth minute accompanied by the choir. I like this because the key is minor but it's not "oooo scaaaary" minor; it's more dramatic, a bit tragic, but triumphant too--pretty much perfect for Re-Destro, Spinner and Machia's moment of revelation in the crater. I wish it were longer. 5.33 - 6.36: And here for the end we're back to the driving guitar and some fun low-thrum strings and percussive chain sounds. Like the fourth passage, it's fun, but jumps out at me less, particularly as the song's finale.

Gigantomachia: This is an extremely boss kaiju song. Seriously, that brass in the opening could come right out of a Toho flick. Extremely good walking calamity number, love that distorted synth stuff towards the end. It's going to sound great when (if) it plays over Machia leaving the villa, the hand rising up through the floor behind Toga, Momo and the other students surveying the desolation left in his wake, and so on. (I know that's all Season Six material, shhhh. I hope they use this piece there.)

Mine Woman: This is so fun. And so extremely superior that that awful Christmas insert song! I'm glad Curious got this at least, and I love the moment the beat drops at the one-minute mark, and that interwoven sax. So good. It's hard to imagine the fight between Toga and Curious being paced to this song, mind, but it's real good, anyway.

TOGA's Nature: This one showcases the other problem I have with Hayashi's BNHA work, especially his stuff for the villains: it feels very on the nose in a way that tips over into being Too Much. The birdsong, I think, is on the nose but in an effective, playful way, with the natural beauty of the birds undercut by the lovely but ominous piano/synth melody. I am considerably less kindly disposed to the creepy child laughter, which just feels on the nose in a thuddingly obvious way--though I do like the way it slides in when the birdsong fades. I like, too, the sort of cloudy roaring reprise of the melodic line that kicks in around the 1.10 mark. It feels like an effective echo of Toga--cute but creepy as a young girl, and then, after she snaps, creepy in the same way but now you can't ignore it.

Symbol of Fear: The beginning doesn't do much for me, but I enjoy the howl that gives way to the organs at 1.15; while it's too action-heavy to be Tenko, the transition does still put me in mind of Tenko wandering the streets, internally crying for anyone to help him, and the person who finally does is--well. I like that the organ nurtures that howl into something considerably more dire, though you still get a return to that guttural cry periodically. While it is, again, difficult to imagine this scoring the scenes between AFO and Tenko's first meeting and Tenko being formally named Tomura--it's much too bombastic--it does still feel like an excellent representation of AFO sculpting Tomura's formless, aimless rage into something that really could tear down the world.

I Don't Kill My Friends: It would have been really nice if they'd let the most significant, unadulterated personal triumph of the arc sound actually fun. Why does the Sad Man's Parade song sound so upset?? @aysall predicts that it'll play over Twice's confrontation with Hawks and death scene, and I can see it working extremely well there, but it's a pretty weird call for the Dead Man's Parade bit, if that is indeed what this is intended to evoke. Quibbling about the title aside, I do like the way this pulses and throbs, something like an exposed wound, which is not a bad description of poor Jin's mentality. I still hope this isn't what scores his breakthrough, though. As I said previously, the villains are the heroes for just this one arc, and it'd be nice if the score could reflect that at least a little.

RE-DESTRO: I like this one a lot. I love the interwoven layers of that dirty sax and the Big and Dramatic orchestral strings + brass, but both of them undercut with that regular, machine beeping that could almost be a heart monitor, but mostly isn't--right up until the long beep at 1.52/1.53. It feels like a strong illustration of the titular character's different personas--his attempts at casual, friendly villainy (like menacing Giran or chatting with Shigaraki on the phone), him when he's thundering full-volume about the weight of his legacy at people (THE BLOOD OF DESTRO FLOWS THROUGH THESE VEINS I AM RE-DESTRO), and, beneath it all, the constant little thread of stress that Rikiya can never escape (right up until Shigaraki). I probably wouldn't love it so much in isolation, but I'm easy to win over with the right character association. XD

Paranormal Liberation Front: Very fun grubby guitar intro. It also has much the clearest melodic throughline, which inclines me towards it. What inclines me to it even more is the knowledge (per @aysall again) that it's the same main melody as the track Villains Theme from the very first season's OST. That track already having used its allotted Doom Choir quotient, this track makes do with less synth and a lot more orchestra and chunky bass backing, which is much to its benefit, I feel. I do wish it had any of the MLA's theme in it, to represent the merger, but admittedly, it'd be hard to make that very audible when the MLA theme has…next to no central melody, percussive rhythm, etc. Still, as an evolution of the League to something bigger, classier, and far more dangerous, it's real good--just long enough to develop into itself and explore its central leitmotif. Probably my favorite track simply on its own merits.

Thanks for the ask, anon! I'd listened to the tracks once driving around for work, but sitting down with them properly gave me a greater appreciation for them, and now I'll definitely have an ear out for them when we get to this material in the anime…

….whenever that winds up being. *sob*

when a deal backfires (Inuyasha)

When a deal backfires

Inuyasha was NOT a happy camper as him and Kagome waited in the room they had rented for the night. Of course ever since a curse had been laid on him that left him with ZERO bladder and bowel control he had rarely been a happy camper anyways so by this point she was used to him sulking like a toddler who didn't get his dessert. "I can't believe you went and worked this out behind my back." The pampered puppy growled for about the millionth time (OK, it was more like 50th but he was getting annoying!) "Inuyasha, at the risk of sounding like a broken record.. We both know that we need jewel shards right? that's the only way to give you back a degree of control? and we can't start chipping up how much of the jewel we've put together JUST for that." She Said, using the same tone of voice one would use with a slow child. "Well..Yeah. It would be nice to stop crapping myself..but..can't we just go beat up some random monster an-" He started, rising off of the soft bed with a bit of a struggle. Between the softness of the mattress and the thick bulky plastic diapers Kagome brought from the future (Along with a red onesie the half demon was currently wearing) It took more effort then he wanted to admit and he wasn't fully on his feet when she rolled her eyes and shoved him back onto the bed. "Look pup." She started, smirking and knowing how much he HATED his new nick name. "Face the facts, there's no way you can kick a jewel charged demons ass by yourself in this state. and if the others help they'll insist the shards join the others. you already know this. SO, Who do we know who might be willing to trade his shard, both of them that we need for this, in return for one night of fun." she asked, cupping Inuyasha's chin as he sat back up blushing. "Well? Come on, so me you're still a clever boy~" Inuyasha huffed and whined, he HATED it when she treated him like some dumb toddler, well mostly. but the part of him that liked it was being ignored. "Koga." He huffed and crossed his arms. "Still don't think you whoring yourself out to him is right though." "...Heh..Is THAT what you think the deal is? Oh Inuyasha, you realllly need to learn to pay attention. I've repeated myself HOW many times and you still think -I'M- the one he wants to play with?" She asked with a amused smirk. "...Well who else would...it..." Inuyasha trailed off and then blushed bright red as it dawned on him why Kagome had sent his clothes off to be cleaned when usually she kept the purse string tight. She had trapped him in the room unless he wanted everyone to see his baby outfit! "Ding ding ding! Winner winner chicken dinner." Kagome giggle and tapped a finger on the pups nose. "I'D RATHER KEEP FILLING MY PANTS WITH CRAP THEN BLOW THAT BASTARD!" Inuyasha yelled. "geez, say it a little louder, i don't think  everyone in the inn heard you.." She said wincing, and putting a finger to her ear. "And you WILL do this because I'm blowing though all of my savings keeping you in disposables. if you wanna keep pooping your pants fine...but we're switching to cloth diapers and YOUR washing them." "...You know there are times when I reallllly hate you?" Inuyasha asked.

Koga was all grins as he came into the inn and got Kagome's room number. he'd of course heard the rumors about how Inuyasha had gone from a bad ass to a smell one but he wasn't sure he believed it till Kagome had contracted him about a little deal. She'd of course offered herself up at first in trade for the shards but as tempting as that was (and it was VERY) there was one thing he loved the thought of more: Making that mutt suck his cock dry while he was in a shitty diaper. It would be the ultimate combination of fulfilling a old wet drink of his and putting the mutt in his place and heck, he was getting ready to settle down and stick around the cave anyways. Knocking on the door, Kagome opened it and smiled. "Koga, please come in, your date is ready for you." she said with a impish grin. Yeah, he wasn't stupid, He knew part of her wanted to see this just as much as him with what a royal pain the pup had been. "Why thank you Kagome." he said and strolled past her, look eyes on Inuyasha. the pup was standing in the corner, naked save for a pair of what looked like diapers but make out of some weird material and had a bunch of animals on them and they were around his ankles. the reason they were was clear as even in the weak lamp light of the room, The Half demon's cheeks were bright red and Inuyasha was fighting back sobs. "oh my, was SOMEBODY a bad boy?" Koga asked amused. "He tried to tell me that I couldn't watch, and even after I got him a jungle print rearz too." Kagome said in a mock pouty voice. "...A what with the what now?" Koga asked, rubbing the back of his head. "A expensive diaper from my time, but they hold a lot AND make him ever so cute." She explained. "Shame on you Inuyasha! She went and spoiled you and you can't return the favor?" Koga tsk'ed and wagged a finger. "I have half a mind to tan those cheeks myself!" "N-No please! I'll be good!" The pup yelped and then a spurt of pee came out of his less then impressive manhood soaking the corner. "Pfffffttt..Well Ok. I suppose..but that was your ONE mulligan. if you misbehave again it;s spanky spanky time." Koga said then added. "and you better pull up your diapies before you flood the room." "Yes sir." Inuyasha mewed, instinctively going beta in the state he was in and yanking his diaper up. "M-May I come out of the corner ow?" "Wow, one spanking and he's so polite. you should of been spanking him this whole time!" Koga noted. "and yes you may buddy." "oh, it doesn't last for more then a hour sadly." Kagome said going and taking a seat at a small table and wishing she'd brought her camera with her. 'I wonder what kinda money this would make in my time...ticking off a lot of fetish boxes here..' she mused.

Inuyasha hated how small and weak he felt, it was just what happened after a good sound spanking over Kagome's lap and he was just glad he hadn't had to address her yet cuz when he was THIS subby he called her mommy without thinking about it. He didn't have to ask what was expected of him as Koga took a baby bottle loaded with icky stink juice (Ok, that wasn't the name of it but it's what Inuyasha called it as it tasted as bad going down as it smelled coming out) and then sat on the bed and patted his lap. "Come here little guy, You look thirsty." Inuyasha went to open his mouth to warn Koga of what that baby bottle of YUCK was gonna do but realized the pervy bastard already know and accepted his fate, toddling over and sitting in the demon's lap. "Um.." Inuyasha started. "Yes?" Koga asked. "Mommy usually ha-" he started before being cut off "Oh, Mommy huh? Adorable!" Koga chuckled with Kagome joining in. "K-Kagome I mean!" Inuyasha yelped and his hands covered his mouth. "oh No. Mommy sounds much more fitting, and I'm sure Kagome doesn't mind..right?" Koga asked. "Pffftt..Not at all. but only if you make sure to call Koga daddy little guy." She called over. "Took the words right out of my mouth! Now, you were saying babykins?" Koga asked. "...Mommy Normally has me lay down and just put my head in her lap..Like..I dunno how this is gonna work...daddy." Inuyasha said, shutting his eyes tight as he said the D word and wishing he could block out the sound of Kagome laughing. "oh well, not to insult your mommy, she's clearly strong enough to paddle your behind after all, but I think i can handle cradling a silly little pup in a big boys body." Koga chuckled and then moved Inuyasha with ease into the feeding position. As much as Inuyasha didn't WANNA open his mouth, Kagome had done this with him more then once (though normally with honey sweeten milk as a reward) and his mouth opened up on it's on and then he took in the nipple and suckled greedily, even as he scrunched up his face. "Awww it's ok little guy, Daddy has something MUCH sweeter for you to suck on after this." Koga promised. "Fuck yeah." Kagome mewed. "Watch the potty mouth around the baby!" Koga scolded and frowned. "Eep! Uh..Yes sir." She mewed as Inuyasha giggled a little despite all the YUCK in his mouth.

Watching Inuyasha work the bottle was having a conflict of interest rise up in Koga in more then one way. First: Inuyasha's eager nursing and greediness was making Koga start to tent his loin cloth and he wasn't sure if he was gonna be able to let the little guy finish his bottle, let alone burp him and want for him to go uh-oh. Second: Inuyasha just looked so sweet and pure at the moment he wasn't sure if he could even bring himself to face fuck him anymore, though hell yeah he'd still play with the baby. Third: He was regretting the choice to let Kagome stay in the room already but knew she had a duty to make sure Kagome didn't hurt the baby (well beyond a spanking) Fourth: while he was of course going to hand over his shards, he wasn't sure if he was willing to hand over the cutie back to her when she clearly was going to keep being a mean mommy. All of this added up together made Koga sure of one thing,he'd gotten a crush on the dork without meaning to. 'Damn it!' Koga thought. 'I have to stop being such a sucker for cuties!' Inuyasha had closed his eyes again, clearly the gooey mixture in the bottle didn't taste all that good but Kagome had promised that it worked wonders on clearing Inuyasha out when he got all backed up. "Actually, it might work too well if your sense of smell is as strong as his. all he can do is whine 'stinky!'" after he loads his pampers." Kagome had said. well, ok..Koga's might of been even stronger but there was no way he was going to NOT see something that sounded THAT cute even if it stringed a few nose hairs. A deep rumbling fart from Inuyasha's backseat brought him back to the moment and Koga went to say something when the smell hit him. "Good god, what have you been feeding him!?" he asked, wrinkling his nose. if it hadn't of been for the fact he was holding the baby he would of pinched his nose shut! "Oh, mostly bean paste and the like, food fit for a baby. Shippo gets a kick out of spoon feeding him." Kagome said. "...Your kidding right?" Koga asked, raising a eyebrow. "Of course I am. he's still on his normal diet of ramen noodles and whatever he can hunt." she chuckled. "you should of seen the look on your face!" "you know, you're not funny."

Kagome had to disagree there, but kept her mouth shut. while they had been busy she'd slipped in a pair of nose plugs and would of offered a set to Koga but he was turning out to be a real wet blanket. 'Maybe when he's suffering enough he'll go back to making this hawt.' She thought and watched as Inuyasha started his pre poopie ass blaster attack. poot after rancid poot escaped the big babies back side as he finished his ba-ba and then OMG.. As Koga wiped the babies mouth and moved to burp him Inuyasha mewed. "I'm sowwy I'm so stinky daddy." And the hell of it was, he honestly DID look like he was sorry. not his fake saying it with a smirk that she got. She wasn't sure if she should find that adorable or a piss off since she had been the one changing his shitty ass all this time. "it's Ok buddy. you're just a little pup who can't help it." Koga said and then had Inuyasha's head over a shoulder and was patting and rubbing his back. Inuyasha mewed and then let out a massive belch that made Kagome jump out of her seat and landed painfully on her ass and the jolt knocked her nose plugs out. As the full stink of the room filled her nose she whimpered and put her hands to her nose then got up and dashed out of the room quickly crying out a "I'll leave you guys alone later bye!" she stumbled in a blind panic to get to fresh air and didn't stop till she was outside and huffing the fresh country air.. or at least that was the plan till she got a lung full skunk scent. "...Fuck it, still better then in there."

Finding the nose plugs and cleaning off Kagome's and spotting the extra pair and getting them in Inuyasha's nose and his, Daddy and baby where able to enjoy each others company much easier now and Inuyasha found that if he didn't have to SMELL it, he liked the feeling of a squishy loaded diaper, triple so since Daddy had giving him a stinky horsey ride in his lap that MIGHT of made the big baby make a different mess in the front of his diaper. Likewise before he he got a diaper change Inuyasha returned the favor as best he could with his mouth (he was unskilled but Koga assured him that he would get lots of practice.) That was because before Kagome came back Koga made a command decision for Inuyasha and carried the now clean little guy in just his onesie out of the inn and took his diaper bag with him. He left three things for Kagome in the room: a note explaining that he had altered they're deal and was keeping Inuyasha to be HIS little boy, and advised her NOT to come looking for him. As promised both of his jewel shards, and a extra one he'd earned recently before showing up, to show he could be fair and Inuyasha's stinky diaper. Needless to say she was less then thrilled to have lost her boyfriend (even if she had been cucking him) though getting three of the shards was a major score. She totally could of done without having to come back into the room reeking of skunk and getting hit with the stink of the poopie diaper and while waiting for the twin stinks to fade off of her, wondered just how she was gonna explain this out to the others.

Inuyasha for his part was quickly accepted into the pack and was everyone's little brother, beloved for the most part save for when he had a stinky diaper.

The end

Black & Blue

Bruise: an injury appearing as an area of discoloured skin on the body, caused by a blow or impact rupturing underlying blood vessels...

Series Summary:

‘They littered her arms like splashes of watercolor paints, Steve couldn't stop staring, she pulled at the sleeves of her cardigan when she caught him. “I fell.” she muttered, pulling the fabric tight over her fragile body. All Steve wanted to do was pick her up, and put her in a box, like you would a broken bird. He wanted to fix this little bird, but he didn't know how.’

Pairing: Doctor!Steve x Reader, Brock x Reader

Series Warning: This story is going to be quite dark and heavy, and will contain heavy themes of domestic abuse. There will be: Violence and possible Noncon, if you are uncomfortable with any of these themes, please don't read, this book won't be for you.

Part One//  Part Two//   Part Three//  Part Four//  Part Five//  Part Six//  Part Seven//  Part Eight//  Part Nine//  Part Ten// Part Eleven// Part Twelve//  Part Thirteen//  Part Fourteen//  Part Fifteen//   Part Sixteen//  Part Seventeen//  Part Eighteen//    Part Nineteen//    Part Twenty//      Part Twenty-One//

Part Twenty-Two: Answers To a Lot of Questions 

Chapter Warnings: Strong Language 

Word Count: 2.2k

“Steve…I…”

“Please say yes, Y/N, you are the love of my life, you are all I want. You and this baby, are my life now, and I want that to be official.” Steve had dropped to both of his knees, Y/N was sitting cross-legged, her jaw hanging open.

“Steve, we’ve only known each other five months, don’t you think this is a bit soon?” Y/N loved Steve unconditionally, but she wasn’t sure if she was ready for the full commitment of marriage.

“Any longer and it would be too late. Please, Y/N, marry me.” Steve pleaded, he shuffled towards her on his knees, “Please, sweetheart.”

“okay.”

It was so quiet, Steve nearly missed it, but then Y/N’s lips twitched up, when she watched the look of confusion of Steve’s face.

“Wait, what was that?” Before anymore was said Y/N leapt onto Steve’s lap, wrapping her legs around his knelt-up waist, balancing on his knees, smashing her lips into Steve’s.

“So…is that...a yes then?” Steve panted, in between kisses.

“What do you think?” Y/N laughed.

“Well you could be using your womanly intuition to make me forget what I just asked you.” Steve ranted, making Y/N shake her head, and push it into his head.

“I’m saying yes, Steve, I can’t believe it, but I’m saying yes.” Y/N breathed, looking up into Steve’s eyes, which were bright with happiness, but his pupils were dilated with love and lust.

He picked her up, and spun her around a few times, before they both fell onto the bed.

~~~~~~~

“…and this is the kitchen.” The stuffy estate agent waved her arm around, as Y/N linked her arm with Steve. The two glanced around the small, but quaint apartment, that they had found in Manhattan.

Y/N and Steve were exhausted, all week they had been looking at apartment after apartment, the date for the custody hearing had come faster than the trial, it was in a week, and the couple were racing to find a place.

“It’s very spacious, with lots of room for little ones.” The estate agent continued to try and sell, the last of the apartments. So far Steve and Y/N had found at least one flaw with every single one of the living accommodations that the woman had showed them.

Y/N shot Steve a look when she mentioned multiple ‘little ones’, Y/N’s hands instinctually travelling to her bump, smoothing the material of the jumper she had stolen from Bucky, in a haste to leave the building after they had both overslept.

When the woman was just met with more silence from the couple, her faked smile slipped, a little, but she quickly fixed it;

“I’ll leave the two of you alone, so that you can discuss, the apartment without the pressure of my eyes on the pair of you.” She scuttled back into the foyer of the building, but you knew her ear remained locked on the door.

“So, what do you think, it’s nice, huh?” Steve took Y/N’s elbows, cupping them at the crook, and gazing into Y/N’s slightly overwhelmed looking eyes.

“Yeah, it’s pretty, it’s got a lovely view of the city.” Y/N pulled out of Steve’s elbow grip, walking towards the large glass window that overlooked the bustling city of Manhattan.

“But…I’m sensing there’s a but?” Steve joined Y/N by the window, resting his chin on the top of her head, his hands settling on her waist.

“It’s just that…it’s a lot of money a month, and I know we have the support of Bruce’s settlement money, but that’s only enough for about six months’ rent, if we subtract the deposit, and with a baby coming, and the shit we have to buy for that, I just don’t think we can keep the payments up, especially as you’re the only one working, and will be for a while, when I eventually pop.”

Y/N had to gasp when she finished her little ramble, Steve’s eyes had closed, but he had managed to refrain from shaking his head at the girl.

“You finished?” Steve sighed, sensing that Y/N had run out of steam.

“I’ve told you, sweetheart, we don’t have to worry about money, we can cope, and we will. Bucky and Bruce have said they’re happy to help us out with buying some baby stuff, Bucky’s sisters, Becca, she’s got a couple of kids, and she going to send us some old clothes and a highchair, once we find a place.” Steve explained, feeling Y/N relax under his fingertips, as she took deep breaths in and out.

“I just hate having to rely on other people, I want it to be just us, just for a little while. I felt like the only time I got to have you to myself was when we were at Tony and Pepper’s, but even then, we were not completely alone.” Y/N brushed her nose with Steve, and he happily nudges it back.

“I know, bubba, I know, and we will have all the time in the world to spend together, in this place.” Steve gazes around the room, Y/N follows his wondering eyes, but they soon drop back to her stomach, hands rubbing the stretched skin.

“We don’t have all the time in the world, we have three months.” Steve’s hand cups Y/N’s belly, running his finger along the stretched skin.

“And I promise, once this pathetic custody battle is out the way, I will spend every waking minute, making up for the wasted months that you suffered because of him. And then we will make the bestest memories, for our little girl. She will live in her own little bubble of love and happiness.”

Steve’s eyes shined with the truth, and Y/N lent into his touch.

“So…what do you think?” The woman’s sudden entrance made them both jump, turning to face the woman, who had begun clicking the lid of her pen, in a repetitive and irritating motion.

“I think we’ll take it, thank you.” Steve wrapped his arm around Y/N’s shoulder, kissing the side of her head.

~~~~~

“Are you sure?” Y/N asked for the thousandth time since they had begun to drive back to the groups shared apartment.

“Sweetheart, if you ask me that one more time, I swear to God…” Steve sighed, he had a smile on his face, as he jokingly slammed his head on the steering wheel.

“Sorry…sorry…” Y/N’s apologises growing quieter.

Steve turned into their street, quickly hoping out the car, so he could run around to Y/N’s side of the car, to help her out, closing the door behind her, his arm snaking around her back, and walking her into the building.

When they edged their way along the corridor, Y/N was the first to spot the trail of blood, that led from the corner of the stairwell, along the moulded white wallpaper, of the dusty old complex.

“Steve…” Y/N’s heat began to pound as the images of the night; Sam, Steve, Maria and herself had gone to the apartment, and saw the bloody remanence of Bruce after he had been attacked by Brock or Strucker, or whosever’s thugs that had been employed to dispose of Bruce.

“It’s okay, sweetheart, I’m here.” Steve hushes, pushing Y/N behind him, as he edges towards the door, which was where the bloody trail led.

Steve was surprised to see that the door was closed tight, not thrown open or beaten down, like it had been before with Bruce. As he drew his keys, he glanced once more behind him, when he felt Y/N clutch at the back of his shirt.

“Bucky?” Steve called out, pushing the door slightly ajar, curving his head around the corner. Y/N tried to look over and around him, but his broad figure was making that challenging, she noticed his shoulders go lax, and heard the faint reply of Bucky, which made Y/N feel more at ease, especially when the call back did not sound panicked or pained.

“What’s happened, why is he here?” Y/N pushed passed Steve, so she could see what Steve was talking about.

Her hand slapped over her mouth, when her eyes, laid upon a broken and bloodied face, if it weren’t for the weird, yet ripped, space t-shirt that the kid was wearing, Y/N would never have recognised that the assaulted young man, that was leaning heavily on the table, whilst Bucky and Bruce cleaned up his face, was none other than Peter Parker.

“Peter…Peter Parker?” Y/N edged her way towards him, her hands protectively circling her bump, “What the fuck happened?”

Y/N knelt on the floor, by the poor boy’s feet, taking hold of his shaking hands, his fingers immediately gripping hers.

“Bbrock…he took me.” Peter stuttered, Y/N squeezed his hand, trying to avoid the little cuts on his delicate digits. As she squeezed, his hands, she turned them slightly, noticing the deep gauges on his wrists that had been caused by some kind of rope, or tie.

“Oh Peter, when? How long have you been missing?” Peter had to cough, as something rolled down his throat, he wasn’t sure if it was saliva or blood that was choking him.

“A few days, I agreed to make a statement, I agreed to stand up in court, the next thing I know I’m being knocked down in a car and dragged into a basement.” Peter responds, shakily.

“Peter, do you have any pain in your neck?” Bruce asks, his thumbs feeling along the back of his neck, and his shoulders.

Peter shook his head, Bruce flinching and holding his head tightly; “try and keep still for me, bud, just until we’re had a chance to examine your neck properly.

“Oh, yeah…sorry, no, no pain.” Peter backtracked.

“You were going to give a statement?’ Y/N had gotten stuck on those last few words.

“Yeah, yeah, I was. I told Sam I wanted to make the testimony, alongside you. Sam told me he was sending over two officers, to come and get me. Only when I went outside, I was met with these two guys, when I tried to run, they chased me down in their car, knocked me over. I blacked out, the next thing I know, I’m waking up in a haze, in somebody’s basement, tied to a fucking radiator-ouch.” Peter winced, Bucky’s soft apology soon following.

“Peter…” Y/N sighed, as carefully as she could she wrapped an arm around the young boy, pulling him as close as she dared, trying not to hurt him.

“It’s okay, I’m okay now.” Peter sounded unconvinced, Y/N looked at Bucky, who was still patching up the cuts on Peter’s hands, trying to clean them, before they could become even more infected than they already were.

“We’re going to be okay, Peter, I promise.” Y/N kissed Peter’s cheek, finding the only space that wasn’t either smeared in blood, or gashed.

“I know, I will be now, I will be okay with you.” Peter tries to nod his head once again, but Bruce’s hold it firmly, the flash of the blue lights outside the window, has Peter jumping slightly.

“Who’s that, who’s coming?” Peter tries to stand, but Bruce holds him gently, yet firmly, in the chair, so he can’t move.

“It’s okay, Peter, that’s just some friends of mine, who are going to give you a ride to the hospital.” Bucky took hold of one of Peter’s shoulders.

“Who, who are they?” The fear in Peter’s eyes, made Y/N’s burn, as she knew the look of dread so clearly.

“Their names are Nat and Clint, they’re going to look after you I promise, the only place they will take you, is the hospital.” Bucky tried to comfort the still frightened teenager.

“Do you promise, swear to me, swear they will not take me anywhere else?” Peter grabbed hold of Y/N’s shirt, making her stumble slightly. Steve was quick to catch her, and hold her up, so she wouldn’t hurt the baby in the fall.

“Peter, go steady, Y/N is pregnant.” Steve warned Peter, trying to detach his stiffened fingers.

“Oh shit, I’m so so sorry, did I hurt you, did I hurt the baby, I shouldn’t have come here, I’m just causing trouble.” Peter rambled, once again trying to stand, with Bruce not being steady on his feet, quite yet, stumbled backwards, Bucky catching him before he fell to far, before leaping to Peter, to sit him down.

“No, no, no Peter. Sit down, please, sit.” Bucky pleads, trying to keep the boy stabilised, until Nat and Clint could rush him to the ER.

“Peter, listen to me. You’re okay, I’ll go with you, darling. Would that be better, if I went with you?” Y/N grabbed the boy, breaking free of Steve’s protective hold.

“You’d do that, for me?” Peter’s eyes wobbled, as the water pooled in his eyes.

“Of course. Come on.” Y/N held her hand out to him, Peter happily taking hold of it, allowing Y/N to lead him to the door, Steve, Bucky and a slightly wobblier Bruce, helped to escort the two of them from the complex, to Nat and Clint, who had been waiting for them.

“You’re safe now, Pete. We’re going to look after you.”

A/N: Okay there may be a few mistakes in this one, but it was written when I was in hospital recovering from an ACCIDENTAL painkiller overdose. I’m all good, just didn’t read the instructions on the box, when I was desperate because of the pain I was feeling.

Part Twenty-Three//

Taglist:

@this-is-a-chilis-drive-thru​​​ @cutie1365​​​ @saiyanprincesswanie @pasaaloquepasaa​​​ @emma-is-a-nerd​​​ @traumschiffe​​ ​@putinovertime​​​ @vibraniumdaisies​​​ @brownsugur @speechlessxx​​​​ @winchester-wifey​​​ @buckys-forgotten-plum​​​ @lou-la-lou​​​ @candy-and-writing​​​ @lemonadygirl​​

@marvelinsanity​

in the afterlife part two

Summary: can you do a part 2 to the “in the after life” where the reader wakes up after the neibolt’s destroyed and realizes that either she’s back where she died and gets a second chance at life, or that she wakes up outside the house and spend the rest of her life with the losers club?

God himself must be having a field day laughing at you and all the life decision you made to get to this point. The air surrounding you is so dark and impenetrable it’s almost tangible, eluding you to think you might be in heaven or hell. Then your leg kicks out and rams a broken piece of glass in the flesh, twinging an electrifying pain stab conjugated in the back of your mind, and you think assimilate, oh, it’s been a while since I felt that. You’re obviously not an expert in heaven or hell matters, but you do have enough presence of a mind to understand that pain is not something that supposed to be felt in the afterlife. Not dead in that case.

A dust particle flows in your throat, irritating it so hard you undergo a massive coughing spree to get rid of it. In turn, you bring your hand up to cover up your mouth and knock free a rooftop plate, the tiniest sliver of light worming through the opening.  You stare at the back of your hand integrating the way it looks clearer somehow, more then it did while inside Neibolt, and then mind reelingly come to the conclusion that you just pushed something away. You touched something, and discerned the material of said thing under you hands, and not ghosted through.

Your throat bobs, putting a lid on your enthusiasm because you don’t want to get let down when the inevitable punchline tales. With a firm shove, something else topples over and the sunlight from outside illuminates your face. It’s warm and the sun burns a streak on your face, but the outside air is so fresh and crisp you can’t even focus on that, to busy holding back tears. Sitting up proves to be an effort, but you manage, albeit with a small huff, and then you’re seated on the runes of the old house that held you captive for twenty seven years.

The details surrounding this are a little hazy, worn down by the incredible and emotionally draining changes taking place, but you can see the boy, Bill, and his friends of misfits clear as day, better friend than you’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting.

A car zoofs by, and the drives, on older male, leans in their seat to stare at you for as long as they can, judging you, but never slowing down or stopping to offer up any kind of help. The man disposed of a can of soda out his window, ricocheting against the pathway and luring your attention there.

It looks appealing, but a snide of apprehensiveness holds you back. You’ve tried to leave the house multiple times, but each time had ended with a hand grissing your leg and prise you back inside like you weight nothing, Pennywise savoring the wails of despair.

But you’d never been able to flick anything before either, and with Pennywise dead, who knew the possibilities that laid ahead of you?

Hesitantly, the tips of your toes cross the curb, your breath lodging in your throat as anxiousness compels you to step back equally as hurried. No hand grasps you back into the house, not that there is one to go back to, and no pain shocks prickle every nerve in your body, so you try again, propping your whole foot across this time. A halted breath releases at the painless sensations swooping your body, and gathering all courage, your swing your body to the other side.

You let out a punched out laugh, giddy that you’re no longer bound, hysterically laughing because if you don’t you’ll start crying. ‘I’m free.’

When the adrenaline and the utter amazements wears off, you’re left standing in front of a collapsed, the house no longer of any value to you but a place you’ll avoid for the rest of your days. You have no idea what to do next, it’s been twenty-seven years, you can’t out of bleu show up at your parents doorstep, if they even still live there, how would you explain where you’ve been for so long? And the lack of passing time?

No matter the answer to that question, you decide to set track to your old home regardless, the sight of the silhouette will be enough.

You’re walking with a noticeable limp, tracking the leg the glass stabbed you with behind like a cripple, and your clothes are covered in rubbish and are outdated, yet no one in Derry regards you twice, just turn up their nose when you pass them on the streets.

‘Fuck this town, and fuck these miserable people.’

The cursing of the town works you up so bad you’re lost in engulfing yourself in the new things renovating Derry, an arcade coating the old skaters rink you abolished every day, and mister Keens pharmacy updated with a new layer of white paint. Your own home, close to the pharmacy, is one of the many buildings renewed, so completely unrecognizable you doubt for a second if this truly is the house you grew up in.

‘Hey? A-a-aren’t you the girl f-f-from Its layer?’ Bill’s sauntering on the street, trailing his bike with him but not riding it, staring at you from afar. He’s cleaned up, washed away the grime from the sewer water and the red around his eyes has faded away, but it’s definitely the leader of the losers club. Bill speaks softly, as to not attract any more attention than necessary, which is stupid, since no one in Derry cares for anything but themselves.

‘I- yeah I am, my names Y/N, by the way,’ you walk on over to him, nodding your head and coming ot a stop a few feet from him.

‘H-h-how did you get here?’

‘I don’t know, I guess when’, a person passes and you fall silent, starting back up when she’s gone. ‘When Pennywise died I got set free.’

‘You’re h-h-hurt’, Bill observes, glancing at the injure you obtained. Strangely, you’re not bothered by it at all, you like the sting of it, proving that you can actually feel things again now.  

‘If you w-w-want, you can come with me to our c-c-clubhouse? My friends are on their way and they’ll h-h-help us.’

Your house being demolished carves room for a nagging feeling, a feeling that tells you don’t belong anywhere anymore, and you have many places to be now anyway, so you agree. Hopping on the carrier of Bills bike, you swoop your legs up and enjoy the inkling of movement ripped away from all those years for a stupid mistake you made.

---------

The clubhouse is bigger than you imagined, and is filled with life. The others haven’t arrived yet, but based on the poster and gadgets scattered all over the place, it’s obvious they have a lot of personality to share.

You meddle with everything, savoring the textures of different objects and in turn accidently knocking some things over. You smile sheepishly at Bill as an apology, but he doesn’t respond and simply watches you as you go on. At one point, a splinter sticks in your thumb, and like a toddler you show it to him.

The latch unlocks and the other losers all stream in to take their place in the cottage, halting as they spot you.

‘Holy shit,’ Richie, Bill told you all their names before they arrived, says fidgeting with his glasses.  

‘I f-f-found her on t-t-the streets w-w-wondering around, she n-n-needs our h-h-help.’ What their leader proclaims is what happens, and they all scramble to help you as fast as possible.

Eddie disinfects your wounds, Ben, Mike and Stan go digging for books on the subject matter, Bill and Richie distracts you from the ache, and Beverly retrieves clothes that allow you to blend in perfectly.

They’re all very sweet and considerate, attending to you and being friendly while they’re at it, kinder than your best friends at the time had been towards you.

‘You got a second chance in life, it’s a miracle’, Mike concludes after the last book on his stack in cleared.

‘That’s really cool actually. What do you plan on doing with your new found freedom?’

And endless sea of possibilities with waves drowning you and fluctuating you up awaits in the unknow stage of life, but it’s intimidating to start that life with no one behind your back to support you.

‘I don’t know yet. I had a plan before I died but I’m not sure I’m going to pursue that now. In all honesty I have no idea what to do.’

‘Here’s a glorious idea from the smartest kid in the room, your height is the same as ours, you could totally fucking pass as a twelve year old.’

Eddie snorts, the fizz bubbling out his nose, all the while shrieking.

‘Hey, come to think of it, maybe you and Eds should pretend to be siblings, you’re both small for your ages.’

Eddie’s laughter dies out in hurdles, and when he’s done he raises and eyebrow to dare Richie to say anything else. ‘That’s not fucking funny.’

‘You were laughing before though’, Richie proudly answers, his smile positively beaming.

‘I can’t be a twelve year old. I flat out refuse to go through high school again, no thank you’, you shiver, the memories of highs school horrific.’

‘J-j-just stay h-h-here until you f-f-figure it o-o-out then.’

‘Finally, a true genius talking.’ Richie flips Stan off at his words, sticking out his tongue for good measure.

‘Really? You would let me do that?’

‘Well, us losers got to stick together.’