#(it's at an angle not usually seen; in my defense.)

[astrumark]

── YOU GOT ME SLIPPIN', ACTIN' LAZY ★.

PAIRING: aemond targaryen x female reader.

SUMMARY: you see aemond with his hair up for the first time, and it is distracting.

WARNINGS: fluff, curse words, suggestive themes.

WC: 1.4K

You believe you are having a very vivid dream, that you are still wrapped in silky sheets and foolishly thinking you already started the day. This could mean you were late to your daily practices with the one-eyed prince, and that could simply not do. He would be beyond displeased. But the sight in front of you could have easily been the fruit of your imagination. 

When you moved to the Red Keep after your betrothal with Prince Aemond for proper courting, you were astonished by his fervent desire for you to begin to train with the sword and to learn self-defense. Personally. 

"I cannot have my future wife being defenseless, can I?" He said. "As much as I love protecting you, my darling, it's beyond my power to guarantee I will always be around." 

You cherished it. Your first encounters as betrotheds, like is commonly done, to walk around the gardens or drink tea during the afternoon was filled with awkward silence and useless small talk, but not the training. 

It was a lot more smooth since there was a purpose to your meeting. You moved your bodies around and got too occupied to talk beyond the necessary, and somehow, it seemed to improve your relationship more than any other activity you have tried before. It's a fun way to bond before the wedding and you felt yourself getting closer to the prince each day. The air between you rapidly shifted for one of mutual respect and slight teasing.

And it was rewarding as well, to test and improve your body and abilities. The soreness of your muscles became pleasant, and you have grown to feel more motivated and stronger, looking forward to it each dawn. 

Your only complaint is that it was too early, having to be awake even before the sun was entirely up. To look at your window and see a gray sky was simply distasteful. Aemond claimed it was necessary to avoid undesirable attention and comments. Usually, it was only the two of you and very few passing servants.

And this is how you would always find yourself in the chilly training yard first thing after you'd awake, a mist often covering the spot in the early hour.

The same mist that makes you doubt your eyes, but when the tall man stops just a few inches away from you, there is no mistaking it. Aemond has his hair up in a ponytail. 

And he looks fabulous. You are unable to avert your eyes, never have seen him with any other hairstyle besides the half-up one. His angled face full on display makes your stomach tingle with excitement.

You could almost visualize him in an extravagant armor competing in tourneys if only he liked it. It made him look like a warrior, but you also noticed the intimacy of it. You could see him with his hair in such a style in your private chambers during the morning as well, chest exposed and thin sheets wrapped around his waist after a passionate night. Warmth flooded your body, and suddenly, all your sleepiness disappeared. 

"Good morrow, my lady," He says quietly. "Slept well?"

"Yes, my Prince, thank you. What about you?" You bring your attention back to the table full of throwing knives in front of you. 

"As usual." He hums. "Would you like to try these first?" 

"Yes, please." 

"Choose one or two and come." He orders, already placing himself near the target.

You watch him from afar for a minute, completely amused, you don't think you have ever considered him as handsome as right now, your heart threatening to burst out of your chest any minute.

Aemond sets himself behind you as you position yourself as he taught you before, holding the other knife for you. You are grateful for his mercy since it was much easier to resist the urge to stare at him when he was out of your sight.

You aim the knife at the wooden target and it flies through the air, landing close to the center, but it trembles terribly and falls to the ground. 

"It didn't stick because you're standing too close," Aemond explains. "When it spins, if the blade is angled down when it falls, it indicates you need to step back. Half of getting the knife to hit the target is about where you are standing."

You listen attentively and try a new stance. This time, the knife lands on the right of the middle and sticks. You grin.

"Good, now let's try something else."

Your face falls slightly. "Already?"

"You seem to handle the knives nicely, although you still need practice. But you are awful at hand-to-hand combat, and so it must be our priority." 

"You flatter me." 

"Come and fight me, my lady." Aemond teases going to the middle of the yard, bouncing on his feet.

"You won't be as thrilled for it once we're wed."

He rolls his eye, and you mirror his stance. But it's distracting, the way his ponytail swings with each of his jumps, almost hypnotizing. 

The sudden punch in your jaw makes you stumble backward as you wince and rub your cheek.

"What was that?" Aemond's voice is thick and intimidating as his slender fingers tap lightly at your cheek as if to wake you up. "Are you still asleep?" 

"No." 

"Then pay attention, you didn't even try to block it." His voice lowers. "Did I hurt you?" 

You shake your head. He never does, his blows are weak, but warning. You've hurt yourself more seriously falling to the ground or striking him than from receiving any of his punches. He's awfully careful.

You go back to your positions, and though you do not stand still as before, you know you are being slow. When Aemond spins, aiming to elbow you, the ends of his hair brush your face, and the smell of lemon verbena soap invades your nostrils, once more distracting you. Unfortunately, you lose the timing to move away and try to protect yourself from his strike in the clumsiest way, flinching as you do so. Not necessarily effective, and most definitely not what you have been learning for weeks.

Aemond says your name exasperatedly, sending you a bewildered glance. "We've been past this." 

"I know." 

"This has not been an issue for you recently."

"I know." You repeat with a grunt.

"What is happening?" He asks.

"Nothing is happening, my Prince." 

"You are distracted," He affirms. "Leave these thoughts behind, focus only on the movements of your body. You will notice that with our practices your body almost knows what to do on its own if you permit it."

You try to follow his advice, and it works for a while. Your footwork becomes meticulous, avoiding Aemond's offenses gracefully, your arms solidly shielding your face and chest. 

With the effort, beads of sweat start to cover Aemond's forehead and nose. And your eyes are drawn to his hairline, especially to the wavy little hairs sticking to his skin. Adorable.

You realize you have lost balance a second too late, the twat successfully tackling you to the ground. Your back hits the dirt floor with a thud, and you lose your breath for a second. He hovers over you, pinning both your arms with his hands. A displeased noise leaves his mouth.

Another perk of training is the proximity. In no other context, other than fighting would be acceptable for betrotheds to stand so close, to find themselves pressed like this. The touches always held more importance than they should, a taste for what's yet to come.

"Foolish mistake." He releases your arms. "What is it? What's bothering you?"

You don't answer, and your attention drifts to his hair once again, the ponytail is falling to the side and very close to your face. You cannot control the urge to touch it anymore and your hand moves, the strands are softer than you previously thought, but it's also thin. You twirl it around your fingers as concentrated as a babe with their new toy.

Realization crosses Aemond's eye, and he chuckles wryly, pressing his body even closer to yours, making you feel all the outlines of his body. You whimper. Cunt. 

"Is it the hairstyle?" He asks teasingly. 

You wet your lips, throat closing up. He holds your chin, making you look directly at his violet iris. "Do you like it?"

You nod. "A great amount."

He grins wickedly, and he leans his face dangerously close, your noses brushing. "Then I will make sure to wear it around you more often, wife."

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond targaryen x you #hotd imagine #hotd x reader #hotd fanfic #aemond fluff

[sipsteainanxiety]

one of the things you'd never understand was how goddamn silent bakugou katsuki could be.

he was huge, for one thing, all six-foot-something of iron muscle and sharp angles. the training he had undergone in the past and continued doing to this day made him bulk up—particularly around his upper torso. a small waist led up to thick pecs and wide shoulders with just as wide biceps. he could crush you so easily with one hand alone, his palm big enough to cover nearly your entire face.

he was also so fucking loud at times. that was his entire hero persona—dynamight with the loud explosions that could temporarily deafen anyone who was close enough to them. his entire hero costume was a deadly configuration of grenades and other heavy gear too—things that cluttered and banged together whenever he moved around too much.

you'd seen him stomping around his agency before in his heavyset boots, so you knew he was the type to be big and bold with literally anything he did. he was always barking out orders with that raspy voice of his or yelling at his co-workers whenever they appeared at his agency to bug him for one reason or the other.

katsuki's very presence, personality, was just so. loud. thunderous.

so you didn't fucking understand why he kept sneaking up on you so easily.

it happened more often than you liked to admit. you'd be in the agency's breakroom, grabbing a cup of coffee to help you stay awake for the day when you'd turn around and he'd just—be there. standing silently behind you.

it made you jump every time, a yelp escaping your lips as you'd clutch a hand at your heart and glare up at him as he'd look down at you with a raised eyebrow.

"jeez! don't do that!" you'd scold him, scooting away slightly to put more space between the two of you. that was another thing—he just always seemed to be invading your personal space, intentional or not. "scared the hell out of me."

"'s not my fault y'don't pay attention," he'd grumble before reaching past you to grab one of the protein bars from a cabinet. you'd roll your eyes and walk away with your coffee cradled in your hand, not wanting to put up with him so early in the morning.

sometimes he'd get you while you were tinkering away in his agency's support lab.

in your defense, you tended to get absorbed in your work a lot, your hands fiddling with materials and tools that could be pretty loud or distracting. you didn't always hear when people would enter the lab, but they usually left you alone.

not katsuki, though.

you'd turn around with the intention of reaching for an item on the table behind you only to get startled when your face would come into contact with a broad chest.

fuck him and his steely pecs. nearly broke your goddamn nose.

"bakugou!" you'd screech, jumping back as you'd rub your nose with your eyes scrunched together. you had to force yourself to not tear up with how much it'd stung. "stop doing that!!"

"doin' what?" he'd say as though he wasn't fucking creeping up on you on purpose. and maybe he wasn't, but the amount of times he'd done it was no coincidence. "need my bracers. goin' out on patrol."

"fine, fine," you'd mutter, giving him a suspicious look before you'd stomp away to grab his stuff for him. you didn't like the way he stared at you, with his eyebrows raised as though you were the one acting crazy and not him for silently standing behind you.

but you knew, you fucking knew, that he was experiencing some sick, twisted amusement at seeing your reactions. you just knew. there were a few times where you'd catch him with a smug smirk on his smooth face as you'd leap away from him. the bastard thought it was funny seeing you all jumpy. and it irritated you more than you'd like to admit. but he'd just pretend he wasn't doing it deliberately. asshole.

at one point, you'd considered doing the same to him. but you'd brushed the idea away pretty quickly. his hero senses were honed—he'd be able to tell you were coming from a mile away. and even if you did manage to sneak up on him, you knew he was a pretty tense guy—he'd blow your face up before you could even raise your own brow at him.

so you just decided to do your best to ignore him. which was hard, considering the fact that he was practically everywhere. it made sense, considering it was his own agency, but still. you'd walk into a room sometimes, and he'd just be there. or you'd turn around and he'd be behind you again. it was frustrating!

but what you didn't know... was that katsuki had been trying to work up the courage to ask you to dinner all this time.

for all the villains he fought and strength he had, he just couldn't muster up the words. he'd make it all the way up to you, standing behind you as he tried to get himself to clear his throat and just fucking say the words he needed to say. but he couldn't. and you'd turn around, get startled, then get irritated at him that he just couldn't ask you out.

so for now, he was simply stuck in this endless cycle, hoping that one day, he'd be able to break out of it.

#this fic is inspired by my two (ex) roommates who kept jumpscaring me in our dorm #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou x reader #well we jumpscared each other so.. all is fair in love and war #zee if u see this i miss u #katsuki x reader #bakugou x you #bakugou drabble #is ex the right word if we're planning to room together in 2 yrs... #who knows!

[vnmpior]

ESTOY ENLOQUECIDO POR TI

GEKKO (MATEO) x reader pt.2

pt.1

summary — you and gekko have been officially dating for five months, and you've been. . . thinking about things. from what was once, "he's so strong" when he's carrying something developed into "could he throw me on the bed?". of course, you never knew how to initiate it. do you just ask him? does it just escalate? do you have to plan it all out? those questions have been bothering you for so long that you straight up decided, fuck it, and searched it up on the internet. well, that was one way to get it started.

note — this is my first time writing smut LMAO. this might be extremely mid or decent, but i hope i don't disappoint with this!! i couldn't stop thinking about mateo yesterday so i decided i would start making this today. I ALSO CAN'T LEAVE THE MATEO SMUT TAG HAVE ONLY ONE FIC, on that note go check it out its so fucking good i love it.

w/c — 2.5k

warnings — (bad) smut, oral (f receiving), rough (ish), praise, tones of dumbification, kitchen sex, undertones of dom reader but mostly d. gekko and s. reader

not proofread + i am not responsible for any minors interacting w this post

you were done with it.

you were done waiting for your own confidence to go up just so you could. . . have sex with mateo.

just thinking about it had you red.

now that the two of you had finally moved in together, there was even less of a time that you could just do things yourself without him noticing. before you could masturbate whenever you wanted, as loud as you wanted. now you couldn't risk him hearing out of embarrassment.

it's been five months since the two of you had got together, and not once had either of you escalated past a few brief touches under shirts while kissing. mateo hadn't even seen you naked, or even with just a bra and underwear.

you knew that it would be this way until you did something about it. but the thing is, you don't know how.

and that led you here, legs crossed on your shared bed. you took a deep breath and began typing into the laptop on your lap.

"what the fuck do i even type?" you muttered under your breath.

"how to start sex? no, that sounds weird as fuck. how to get in the mood for sex?" you typed that, and instantly glanced towards the door, feeling as if mateo would walk in at any moment.

you were really picky about what websites you went on. you didn't need a whole porn video, but you also didn't need tips on how to get yourself horny.

researching harder than you do for homework, you didn't realize that the door creaked open.

"hey, chica. are you okay with a sandwich for lunch?" he said, alerting you of his presence.

without thinking, you quickly slammed the lid of the computer shut.

he gazed at you questionably, raising his eyebrow. "what was that?"

"it's nothing," you lied terribly.

his eyes narrowed. he could usually tell when you were lying, and it was obvious.

"but i'd love a sandwich," you tried changing the subject, hoping that he'd take the hint you wouldn't tell him.

"whatever you say, hermosa," he gave you a two-finger salute as he walked out the room.

you sighed in relief and opened the laptop again. so far, you had no luck. you did find some tips, but there was no way you were asking him, "hey, wanna fuck?"

you rubbed your hands against your face and let out a long groan. all this trouble just to ask him to destroy you? you flushed thinking about it.

deciding that you needed a break, you set the laptop down, angling the screen so that it wasn't wide open, but it wasn't quite closed.

you made your way downstairs, walking in the kitchen to see mateo with a big red stain on his shirt.

"holy shit, are you okay?" you ran over to him.

"i'm fine princesa. it's just ketchup. did you think it was blood?" he laughed.

you scowled and grabbed the sandwich on the counter, taking a big bite.

"hey, you're the one who thought it was blood, not me." he put his hands up in defense when you glared at him. "thanks for worrying about me though."

you rolled your eyes, but the smile on your face contradicted your irritated behavior.

"yeah, yeah. but if you're ever covered in blood don't expect me to come running."

"my heart," he pouted as he held his hand to his heart.

"don't you have to go get changed?" you questioned, trying to wipe the puppy-eyed look off his face.

"i probably should. look at you with the big ideas," he left the kitchen after giving you a peck on the cheek.

by the time he'd come back, you were busy washing the plate that you had used. he was silent, so when he wrapped his arms around your waist, you jumped and yelped in surprise.

"holy shit mateo, don't scare me like that!" you splashed him with some water, earning a chuckle.

"my bad chica," he apologized.

he stayed still for a few seconds, before he buried his head in the crook of your neck and start giving you little kisses.

"teo?"you questioned him while your face turned hot.

he hummed in response, continuing to trail open mouthed kisses along your neck. you tried your hardest not to gasp and tilt your neck.

"c'mon mateo, at least let me put this on the drying rack." you didn't trust yourself not to drop the plate and immediately go wild on this man.

that got him to stop, and you quickly put the plate on the rack and dried your hands.

"okay, hermoso. what are you doing?" you faced him, and he immediately caged you in against the counter.

your back hit the curved ledge, and his arms were on either side of you.

"what were you doing?" he asked instead of answering, inching closer.

"what do you mean me?" you were trying to convince yourself that he didn't know what you were doing upstairs, and that instead he was tricking you into saying it.

he didn't reply, but used one of his hands to pull you in, your arms automatically wrapping around his neck.

you'd never get used to how soft his lips were, the routine bite he always does to your lips whenever you make out. but this time was different. there wasn't more passion, but there was another emotion in how he pulls you closer to him

you could feel his smile, and when you pulled away, he had the goofiest grin on his face. his hand trailed up your thigh, stopping right before it got where you wanted it.

"teo," you frowned at him.

"what? is there something you want?" he teased you, inching closer to your core.

you averted your eyes, finding sudden interest in the ceiling. a sudden force tilts your chin back to face him.

"i asked you a question," he cooed.

you looked up at him through hooded eyes, and decided what's the worst that can happen?

you leaned your hips forward and grinded against his waist, letting out one long moan. he quickly stopped you with a harsh grip on your hips.

"does that say enough?" you said cockily.

"you have to use your words, hermosa. maybe i'll reward you."

you were tired of waiting, squirming at how uncomfortable it was in your shorts. from what you could see, he was too with the tent in his pants.

"i need you. i want you so bad." you whimpered, locking eyes with him.

he thought about it.

"what do you want?" he asked, his fingers making their way to your waistband and slowly inching it down your thighs. it left shivers coursing throughout your entire body, even though you felt on fire.

"i just want you. i want you to fuck me until i can't think anymore." you started rambling before you felt a pressure at your entrance.

he slipped a finger inside and curled it, and you slumped forward and found purchase on his shoulders.

"holy fuck mateo," you breathily said. "a little warning?"

"not my fault you weren't paying attention," he chuckled as he inserted another finger.

you've never bothered to use more than two fingers, but when mateo does it, it feels. . . different. you knew that you would never be able to replicate the same feeling that he makes you feel.

you could hear the noises as he went faster, along with the noises steadily pouring out your mouth.

"wait, fuck. . . mateo," you started speaking only to be interrupted by him sliding his fingers out and holding them up.

"damn chica, you're wet as fuck."

you almost died of embarrassment right then and there, but before you knew it, mateo dived between your legs.

you whimpered at his warm breath making contact with your folds, and just how you dreamed of, mateo went straight to work.

"fuck! teo, it feels so good," he hummed in response to your praise, pulling your legs over his shoulders while keeping your legs spread.

you threw your head back, letting out the most pornographic moan you've ever heard as your hand shot to his hair.

little whimpers and moans filled the room as you began to grind against his mouth. usually you'd last a lot longer than this, but either because you had been waiting months for this moment or the fact that mateo was eating you out, you felt something in your stomach tighten.

"mateo, stop, please." you slurred out, trying to use your hand to push him away. but he wouldn't move. he wanted to feel you cum around his tongue, and he stood by that.

he made a little motion with his head, shaking it side to side, still eagerly lapping away at you.

"i wanna cum with you, please i want it so bad." you blurted out, and that caused him to stop. you whined at the sudden cold air. well, he couldn't exactly pass up that offer, huh? especially when you begged so nicely and deperately.

"you always know what to say, chica," he grinned as he began unbuckling his pants.

"well, i didn't know what to say for it to come to this." you didn't know a single word that could've cause this to happen. not that you were complaining, but you might need that word for future reference.

"me about to fuck you stupid? i wouldn't know what to say either," you heard his pants fall to the floor and he angled you on the counter for you to be comfortable.

"this alright babe?" he asked, looking into your eyes for a clear answer. you stared back, impatient.

"just hurry up and fuck me," you nodded.

"i could stop right now."

"you wouldn't dare," you narrowed your eyes and before he could respond, you slammed yourself onto his cock.

he let out a groan his hands making their way to the bottom of your thighs to lift you up. although the beginning was rough, he started off slow.

"you know how long i've wanted to do this to you?" he said while picking up speed. your hands instinctively went up to cover your mouth to muffle your moans, but he pulled them away and pinned your wrists behind your back.

you shook your head. he watched as you didn't know where to look, eyes darting everywhere. from his chest, to his eyes, all the way down to where he was currently destroying you. then you'd get embarrassed and look away to start the cycle all over again.

"hey princesa. eyes on me," he loved seeing you not know what to do. as obedient as you are, you immediately locked eyes with him. "good girl. always so good for me, hmm?"

you nearly came as soon as he said that, tightening around his thick cock.

"oh, you like that?" you knew he'd use this against you forever. but now wasn't the time for you to be worrying about that. in fact, you couldn't think at all. you were understanding what he was saying but couldn't form a single response.

"i asked you a question." he began slowing down as if you didn't answer, he'd stop entirely. and you didn't want that.

quickly you answered, "i- mm, i love it," you slurred out.

"what was that?" he went back to his ungodly pace, and it took you even longer to piece a sentence together, letting out a moan every single time he hit your g-spot. you could swear you saw a little bump in your stomach every time he was fully in.

"i fucking love it, teo," you whimpered out, every word emphasized by the slapping of his hips against the apex of your thighs.

he would've blushed at this, but considering that he had in fact, been waiting so long for this, he attempted to go even faster and harder.

you were borderline drooling, if it wasn't for mateo holding you, you'd be lying back as far as you could. you went to grab for his back, before you realized that your wrists were still in his grasp.

"need to touch you," you whined.

he contemplated for a moment before releasing his constraint on you, and while you went straight for his back, his hands went up your shirt. the cold feel against your burning skin made you jump.

he had been letting out little moans and whimpers, but you could tell he was getting close with how they increased in volume and he began rutting into you like his life depended on it.

your moans were quieted but his lips on yours, and you began to feel that telltale knot in your stomach. it was as if he noticed this, as he broke the kiss and asked, "are you gonna cum?"

if you weren't in this position getting fucked until you couldn't think, you would've said, "isn't it obvious, dumbass?" but considering the fact he had you drooling on his dick that probably wouldn't be the best response.

you hurriedly nodded, and you could see the beginning of a smirk on his face.

"c'mon hermosa, you can do it. come for me," he trailed off into a long moan as you creamed around him, feeling as mateo did one last hard thrust and buried his head in the crook of your neck to mask his sounds.

the two of you stayed still in silence, only hearing each other's heavy breaths.

"did you mess up my hair?" you asked, blowing away strands of hair from your face.

"i think if your hair was fine, it wouldn't be much of a good time," you closed your legs as soon as he slid out, feeling something hot drip out of you.

"well, i think that i need to take a nice long shower." you attempted to get off the counter as mateo put his pants back on, but he stopped you.

"let me carry you, mi princesa. don't need you tripping." he gestured to you slightly trembling thighs.

you closed your thighs tighter together in embarrassment, as if didn't just cum in you a few minutes ago. he laughed at this and went to pick you up bridal style.

"y'know, this was what i was talking about when we first met. how we could be doing something else instead of dancing."

"why the fuck did it take you so long then, hm?" you jokingly punched his chest.

"well, why did you have to search up how to ask?" he shot back.

you totally forgot you left your laptop on the bed. it was open enough for anyone that goes by to glance at it and see at least half of what was on the screen.

and he went into the room to change his clothes.

"oh, fuck you teo," you hmphed and crossed your arms.

"you just did," he winked.

I HAD TO REWRITE THIS THREE FUCKING TIMES BECAUSE TUMBLR DIDN'T SAVE. THREE. I ACTUALLY LOST IT.

also how tf do u talk about pussy. like do you say pussy? vagina? entrance? core? heat? THIS IS SO HARD. btw i was so embarrassed making this that some parts might not make sense or be repetitive. im sorry

like comment and subscribe

#never writing smut again unless yall like it #my mind is a lot worse than this i js cant put it into words #x reader #smut #mateo x reader #mateo x reader smut #gekko x reader #gekko x reader smut #valorant smut #valorant x reader smut #valorant x reader #valorant

[cherryxcadbury]

11 with jude please 💖

so ik there were a lot of reqs for #11, but this was the first one I received so this will be my #11;)

2nd person pov

“Why do you have chicken in your purse?” You asked your best friend, Natalia as you both looked on at the pitch.

“Not paying for that over prices stadium shit.” Natalia explained, as she happily ate her chicken nuggets in peace while people began to fill in the seats after half time.

You two were both huge Bayern fans. So when they posted on their social media, a giveaway for two tickets up close to the pitch, it didn’t take much for you two to submit about a thousand entries. And somehow, you guys won.

The score was 0-0, against Bayern’s biggest rivals, Dortmund. In honesty, Dortmund usually tended to get thrashed by Bayern, but they were the biggest competition in the Bundesliga.

“Look! Bellingham!” People called from behind you.

You angled your head and saw as Jude Bellingham was leading the charge back from the break onto the pitch. The nineteen year old captain had even the Bayern fans in awe of him.

“I hate him but he’s hella fit.” Natalia admitted, to which you only nodded in response.

He was good yes. Okay fine. He was really good. But you considered him overrated.

“There are way more options for captains though. I don’t know why the nineteen year old is the captain.” You grumbled, honestly a bit angry because of how close Jude had gotten to assisting.

“Says the one who’s no older than nineteen. Also bro, you know he deserves to be captain. Have you seen the way he is on the field. Captain material. And I say this as a lifelong Villa and Bayern fan.” Natalia responded.

You looked to her to see a brow raised in your direction.

“You’re more competitive than half the players I swear.” Natalia laughed.

“Chicken?” She offered, holding her hand out.

You chuckled before waving her hand away.

“Second half’s about to start.” You mumbled.

“WOOOOO MIA SAN MIA!” Natalia cheered, eliciting more cheers from fellow Bayern fans.

“What does Mia San Mia even mean?” You asked her, as Dortmund made their way up the pitch.

Natalia scoffed and turned to you, “You do not deserve to be wearing that Alphonso Davies kit right now.”

“In my defense, I’m not German!” You exclaimed.

“Y/N! I am literally from fucking Ecuador, I don’t know German either but at least I know Mia San Mia! Fake fa-”

She started to say before being cut off by you. Dortmund’s offense was getting suspiciously close to the Bayern net. You were tempted to grimace as Neur was out with a knee injury, not that his replacement was bad by any means.

The stadium almost fell silent as the ball made it to Bellingham’s feet. He was successful in weaving in and out of players, before the ball was deflected. And it was coming straight at you.

Your worst nightmare. You’d love football since you were a little girl. You’d watch it all the time, with or without your family. The one thing that kept you away from live matches as a kid was potentially being hit by a ball. The thought embarrassed you to no end. And now, it was about to happen, in front of tens of thousands of people.

This was what you deserved for sitting in the front row.

“DUCK!” Natalia screamed into your ear, physically pushing you down.

Luckily the ball didn’t hit you, and went flying to the row behind you. Hitting a poor unsuspecting boy.

“Oh shit.” Natalia looked at the wailing kid sympathetically.

You also felt your heart pang in sadness for the clearly hurt boy. But you also thought it was kind of funny. He’d been kicking the back of your seat for the whole first half. And you wanted to smirk and mention karma, but you were better than that.

You grabbed the makeshift ice pack in your bag, which was really just a bag of a lot of ice you’d bought at the stadium and handed it to the boy’s mother.

“I don’t have much but this might help.” You said, placing the bag in the mother’s hands who smiled at you gratefully.

The boy also thanked you, silently calling a truce.

You and Natalia told the boy jokes to help distract him from the pain but eventually it was drowned out by cheering on your side.

“Turn around!” The injured boy gestured.

You did so and saw Jude Bellingham jogging over to your area. Hence why you could barely hear anything. You turned back to see the gleaming boy, figuring it would probably be easier if he was closer to Jude.

So, you picked the boy up and transferred him to your seat, closer to the pitch, while you climbed over to sit a row behind.

Unbeknownst to you, the kind act did not go unnoticed by Jude, who’d seen it while approaching.

“I’m sorry about that bud.” The footballer smiled apologetically, ruffling the kid’s hair.

The boy just smiled, “It’s okay. You weren’t the last one to hit it anyways.”

“You doing better now eh?” Jude smiled.

“Yeah! She helped me by giving me ice and telling me jokes.” The boy answered, gesturing to you while he spoke.

This caused Jude’s eyes to flicker towards your for a second. A smirk found its way onto his face while you started blushing red.

“Ah well your sister seems very nice.” Jude emphasised the “sister”.

The boy quirked his brow.

“She’s not my sister. She just helped me after the ball hit me.” The child explained. “Ah, should’ve figured based off of the opposing kits.” Jude replied, noticing now that you sported a Bayern kit while the child was decked out in BVB gear.

You turned to Natalia who just sat there smugly, watching it all happen.

“Don’t talk much now do you?” Jude asked you, the smirk ever so present on his face.

You wanted to stop from blushing again. But you couldn’t. Instead you had to switch the topic.

“Don’t you have a game to play smart one?” You shot back, snark in your voice as you forced him to turn back to the field where the players were still waiting.

“If I were you, I’d go back to playing now. The quicker you lose, the quicker you get this over with.” You advised.

That flared some sort of pride and fighting spirit in Jude. He smiled to himself turning to go back to the pitch.

But just before that he looked at you and said, “I’ll show you why I’m the golden boy for a reason.” before stocking off.

Within a few seconds, the game resumed.

“I swear the golden boy was Gavi.” Natalia wondered aloud.

And you couldn’t help but laugh.

Approximately 48 minutes later, the match was at a standstill 2-2. Jude had already smirked in your direction after scoring. You however didn’t return anything because what if he had a girlfriend or something that was directed towards?

“Fuck fuck fuck.” Natalia breathed as Adeyemi made his way up the field.

That boy was faster than lightning.

Adeyemi handed it off to Jude who then passed it to Gio, outside of the box. The American faked Alphonso fucking Davies and shot the ball at such an angle that no one expected a goal out of it. But it was. It was a goal indeed. You bit your lip as Dortmund players and fans alike celebrated, going insane.

You could only think to keep your head down to shield yourself from the embarrassment.

15 minutes later

Most fans had left but you and Natalia hung around to take pictures considering how close you were to the field. Your back was currently facing the pitch as Natalia stood on top a seat to get your optimal angles.

“You look so good!” Natalia smiled, clicking away.

But she stopped abruptly.

You noticed.

“Oh are we done? Should we go now?” You asked her.

“Turn.” She commanded.

You whipped you head around to see Jude Bellingham shirtless. Kit in his hand, elbows leaning against the miniature wall.

“You.” You gulped, waiting to get trashed after seeing the look on his face.

“Unfortunate that you guys lost today.” He smiled.

“Yeah well match fixing’s always a possibility. Sure you know a lot about the match fixing.”

You referenced the interview which got Jude fined in the previous year.

Jude’s smile stayed, turning into an ever present smirk.

“Touché I suppose.” Before handing you his kit.

You grasped it, before looking in disgust.

“I don’t do Dortmund kits.” You tried handing it back to him.

You were actually freaking out on the inside.

“This is a Jude Bellingham kit though.” He bit his lip as he maintained eye contact with you.

“Even worse.”

He just laughed.

“Listen sweetheart. I’d take a good look at that kit before you feed it to the dogs.”

And with that, he winked, jogging into the tunnel.

“You better fucking open that kit.” Natalia commanded, holding it up.

Both your eyes shot to something scribbled in the corner.

Call me;) 49*** *** **** -Jude

Your mouth hung wide open at this point. He was into you.

“W fucking rizz Bellingham. W rizz.” Natalia muttered.

“You’re going to be a WAG Y/N.” Natalia’s hands clamped over her mouth.

You rolled your eyes at your best friend’s wild imagination. But secretly, 99% of you, hoped that what she was saying, was true

#jude bellingham #bellingham #jude #jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham imagine #jude bellingham blurb #jude bellingham imagines #jude bellingham x you #borussia dortmund #bvb09 #bvb imagines #england nt #dortmund #football imagines #footballers #football #fc bayer munich #bayern #bundesliga

[courtforshort15]

Under My Skin

Pairing: Matt Murdock x fem reader

Word count: 2,700

Summary: You're extremely late for work, and your boyfriend is extremely unhelpful.

Trigger warnings: absolutely none, just the risk of possible death by the feral smirk of Matt Murdock

Masterlist

"Shit motherfucker God damnit!"

You're late, you're very late.

Matt laughs at you from his kitchen as you swear a blue streak, foul words falling from your lips like candy out of a damaged piñata. If you hadn't been rushing around his apartment like a chicken with its head cut off, you'd take the time to stomp over to him and shove your middle finger right in his face. But as it is, you don't have the time to stalk over to him and brush your hair in the mirror. You have to choose which one is more important, and right now, the only correct choice is the one that doesn't have you showing up to your 9am meeting with a rat's nest on your head.

You'll make sure to flip him off later.

"Where the fuck is my phone charger? Have you seen it?"

"Technically, I haven't seen any--"

"Save your repetitive dad joke for later or I swear to God, Matthew, I'll risk being screamed at by my boss in front of the whole damn company just so I can smack that smug grin off of your face."

The man snorts into his coffee.

"Seriously, where is it? I thought I plugged my phone in so it could charge last night. I need it so that I can at least charge it at work." With toothpaste foaming and a toothbrush now in your mouth as you rush to scrub the night's build up off of your teeth, you use one hand to frantically throw the blankets and sheets off of Matt's bed, desperately trying to find the charger.

"Where did you have it last?" He asks as he comes up behind you, a mug of coffee still in his hand. His hair is sticking up in odd angles, but you're too frantic to tease him or run your fingers through it. "Are you sure you even packed it before coming over after work last night?"

"I always have my charger on me," you grumble out around the toothbrush, the statement muddled with all the toothpaste that's still present in your mouth. You brush past him on your way into the bathroom, where you spit noisily into the sink. You gargle a large sip of mouth wash, hoping to make up for the short brushing period. Not a great start to the day, but it would have to do.

Matt "bloodhound" Murdock can suck a giant dick if he mentions anything about your breath.

"You should really get a new phone," he tells you as he begins making his bed, apparently having had no luck finding your charger. You eye the abandoned cup of coffee he's placed on his dresser longingly. "Your battery dies too fast."

"My battery is fine," you object tersley. "Or at least, it usually is. It lasts a decent amount of time."

"Right," he drawls sarcasticly. He places his hands on his hips, raising his eyebrows as he focuses in your direction. "That's why your phone died overnight when you weren't even using it."

"Shut up." You're yanking your black slacks up over your ass now, and you growl as the zipper catches. You fumble with it for a second, hands shaking in a steadily rising panic, before it finally breaks free, but not without popping a thread.

Fuck.

"I'm just saying, you wouldn't be rushing like this if your phone hadn't died."

"Yes, I know that, Matt," you snap. Matt raises his hands in a defensive position, and you wish you hated the self-satisfied grin on his mouth. As much as you love him, this man drives you absolutely nuts, cocky and self-assured in his ability to rile you up with little effort.

He's right about the phone though, you mentally acknowkedge with a groan. Your alarm would have gone off at the right time had it not ran out of battery.

Damn it, you hate it when he's right.

"Are you sure it's not in your purse? It's still hanging over by the door, isn't it?"

You freeze, mouth going slightly slack. You hadn't actally checked your purse, having rushed into the shower less than 30 seconds after he'd told you what time it was.  The look Matt gives you is one of astonishment as he accurately guesses the reason behind your silence.

"You mean you didn't check?" He asks incredulously, eyes wide in what looks to be disbelief. "Isn't that the first place you should have looked?" Matt tosses you your bra from the overnight bag he's already moved to the bed after picking it up from his bedroom floor for you. He exits the room to check your purse for the blasted charger.

"Don't judge me!" You call out defensively. "I haven't been able to think clearly since I got up and realized I'm gonna be horrifically late."

Snapping the bra straps over your shoulders, you walk over to your bag to pull out the shirt you planned for today. It's wrinkled, you notice with a wince. There's nothing you can do about it now, so you soak up the frustration and begin pulling it on, pushing your arms through silk sleeves.

"Sweetheart, the charger is in there," you hear him say from just outside his bedroom, and you know he was able to sense it just a few feet away from the purse in question. You bristle at his borderline condescending tone and you retaliate by laughing sarcasticly.

"Oh, thank God." You finish buttoning up your blouse. "Thanks for finally using those senses you're always bragging about, Matt."

"It doesn't always work like that," he informs you, speaking slowly as if he was talking to a child. You resist the urge to storm into the living room just so you can throw a pillow at his stupidly handsome face. "I have to focus on the right things, which is hard to do when you're screeching like a banshee at 7:30, sweetheart."

You roll your eyes, ignoring the fact that you know he's right again. The bastard.

"I'll just use my battery pack to help charge it on my way to work."

"How did you even forget about charging it last night?" Matt downright saunters back into his bedroom to begin stripping for his own shower. His shirt hits the floor and you have to force yourself to look away, acutely aware of the sudden flicker of arousal you feel just by glancing at his naked chest. The way his mouth quirks up on the left corner you tells you he's already picked up on it. "You always remember to plug it in at night."

"Yeah, well, I must have gotten distracted," you say defensively. "You came home last night and you...wait, hold on."

"Yes...?" Matt's face is one of slight puzzlement, fingers pausing as he moves to remove his boxers. Your head snaps up as your eyes narrow, struck with a sudden realization.

"I was waiting up for you on the couch, and then you came home and I must have forgotten to charge my phone when you...when you-"

"I what?"

"When you demanded I take my clothes off and then dragged me to your bed!"

Matt gapes at you in surprise, as if he's forgotten having his way with you last night, fast and rough and hard. Repeatedly. The look of shock lasts only for a second before it morphs into something heated and downright sinful instead. "Whoops."

His reaction and utter lack of repentance fuels the fire.

"It's all your fault!" You hiss at him, finger pointed in accusation. "I forgot to plug in my phone because you came home and apparently needed to fuck me right. that. second!"

"As I now recall, you didn't exactly have a problem with it."

You screech in frustration, doing your best to avoid tearing your soaking hair out of your scalp as you turn on your heel to make your way to where your purse is hanging on his coat rack. "I'm never letting you touch me again."

"Sweetheart, don't be rash." The smugness in his voice is still present even as he chases after you. "It won't happen again."

"You're damn right it won't, because I'm going to be celibate from now on."

"Sweetheart--"

"Celibate, Matt!"

You finish slipping your heels on, cringing as your feet start aching almost instantly, the arch throbbing and yesterday's blisters already chaffing. It's going to be a long day, and it's barely even 8am.

Matt wipes a large palm down his face, trying to hide his grin and utterly failing as you walk around him to grab your phone off of the kitchen table where you'd mistakenly left it last night. You shove the offending item into your purse with a glare.

"Let me make it up to you tonight?"

"Why, so I can wake up with a dead phone again?"

Matt huffs out a laugh. "I promise I'll help you plug it in myself. I'll even be nice and pick you up a new phone charger so you always have one on your side of the bed and don't have to worry about grabbing it out of your bag every night."

You groan. Despite the frustration of the morning, nothing sounds better than sleeping next to him again tonight on what he's affectionately labeled as your side of the bed.

But he doesn't need to know that.

"Even if I wanted to, which I don't because boyfriends who are capable of sex marathons at 2am are horrible for my career, I have to go home tonight."

"Can I persuade you otherwise?" This man has the most unreal set up puppy dog eyes you have ever seen, despite being unable to see how effective they are, and you hate him for it. His hands settle on your hips and they tugs you in gently, a sharp contrast from the restless energy thats been filling the apartment for the last twenty minutes, your bickering loud and unapologetic.

"No, Matt." He adds in the well-practiced lip quiver and you almost give in. Seriously, who taught him these things? "I have absolutely no clean clothes left. I'm not even wearing any underwear because I ran out of clean ones here."

"Oh, I'm fully aware you're not wearing any." His grin is downright salacious as his sightless eyes land somewhere around your lower abdomen. He licks his lips for good measure, assuring you of what exactly is going through his mind.

"Stop it!" You shove him, but he dosen't move an inch. "You can't have thoughts like that while I'm trying to rush out the door. It's not fair."

Matt lets go and grins as he walks over to the kitchen counter to pour coffee into your travel mug. You follow him in desperate need of the caffeine, and he places it in your awaiting hands once it's full. "You know...I might have a suggestion that could possibly help your underwear problem."

You hurriedly add creamer and then take a large sip, wincing as it burns on the way down. "If your suggestion is that I go without underwear every day, I will walk out that door and not come back."

"I was actually thinking that you could just move in with me and keep all of your panties here."

Coffee is spat on to the floor as you find yourself choking, eyes widening drastically. You thump your hand against your chest as you wheeze, still coughing as you stare at him in mild alarm.  "Did you...did you just..."

"Did I just ask you to move in?" Matt smirks at you, leaning unconcernedly against the counter, still in his silk boxers. "Yeah, yeah I did."

Your mouth is gaping like a goddamn fish. You wipe your chin off with the back of your hand, staring at him in disbelief. "And you think now was the best time to bring it up?"

He shrugs. "Seemed relevant, so yeah. I'd say so."

"Matt," you whine. You resist the urge to stomp your foot like a toddler. "You can't...You can't just ask that when I'm about to leave."

The smirk is still on his ridiculously handsome face. "And yet, I did."

"I don't have time to talk about this right now, I'm already so late," you say, regret seeping into your voice, hoping to convey that it's not a rejection, just a matter of the morning's poor timing.

Sometimes you think he lives for catching you off guard.

Your face is burning as you move to bend down with a paper towel to wipe up the coffee you'd spat on the ground. Matt waves your hand away, indicating that he'll clean it in a minute.

"We don't have to talk about it now," he tells you, and his voice is suddenly lacking the teasing edge it had a moment earlier as he takes the paper towels from your hand. He's still smiling, but it's softer now, less flirtatious, less merciless in his desire to continue riling you up. "Just...think about it."

Shaking your head, you reluctantly back away, closing the lid on your travel mug. You're at a loss for words. The mad rush of the morning has left you, replaced by a different type of buzzing that's resonating in your head, caused by the unexpected suggestion he's just thrown at you.

Still reeling, and still struggling with the one thousand thoughts running through your head, you make your way back to the hallway leading to his front door and crack it open slighty. You watch your hands tremble briefly before pausing to turn around. 

He's followed you, unsurprisingly, and he's now leaning against the wall to the right of the door, using his shoulder to brace himself as he crosses his arms. His chest is bare, and he's still only wearing boxers, much to your amusement and rapidly increasing hunger. The sight sends a shiver of lust down your spine without shame.

God, this man.

Even knowing that your boss will absolutely murder you in your sleep, you risk being late just so you can look at him for a minute before you go. He usually walks you to the faded exit of his apartment when you head to work, but this time it's different as you're suddenly hit with the realization that you've never found it so hard to leave.

"Matt," you say, swaying gently into him, and he places a hand on your waist as if to steady you. You can tell he's aware that the air around the two of you has suddenly shifted into something calmer, something more meaningful than your early morning bickering. The rapid fire of panic at the possibly to being late to work shifts into the flame of desire and want and love you feel for this man.

He leans into you instinctively, as he always does.

Sighing fondly, you reach up to place your hand on his cheek, and he immediately nuzzles into it. You take a small step forward and tip your chin up to kiss him, a faint gasp leaving you as his lips press more insistenly against yours than you had planned for. Despite the heat, it's a quick kiss, and you take your mouth away from his after only a moment, his quiet groan going straight down your spine.

You're unable to stop the smile spreading across your face as you whisper the next part. "You already know my answer is yes."

The smile he gives you is so blinding, you can't help but laugh in response. He moves to kiss you again, reaching out to pull you into him, but you deftly take a step to the side, effectively wiggling away. You know if you start now, you'll never stop, and you'll never be able to pull away from him, meeting be damned.

Besides, the man deserves to be teased after fucking you into submission last night and leaving you unable think and unable to move; the two factors absolutely necessary to plug in your goddamn phone.

All things considered, you'd still let him do it again in a heartbeat. You'll never tell him that, though; the man is already egotistical enough when it comes to his skills in bed. And on the couch. And in the shower. And on the kitchen table.

"Seeing as how you asked me at the worst possible moment, and I have a meeting that I cannot miss, you'll have to wait until tonight to celebrate," you tell him cheekily, already backing out into the hallway. You can tell by the look on his face that it's taking every ounce of his self-control not to pull you back in anyway. "I'll see you after work, and after I pick up more clothes from my apartment."

The smirk is back. "Will you still be without underwear?"

"I'm sure I could make that arrangement."

"Perfect."

#daredevil #matt murdock #human disaster matt murdock #matt murdock x you #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock fanfiction #daredevil x reader #daredevil x you #daredevil fanfiction #daredevil x fem reader #matt murdock x fem reader

[ceilingfan5]

make it count

"problem" for @taznovembercelebration

Kravitz thought he was already having a weird night, but the guy tumbling out of his closet was, honestly, a real surprise. 

“AUGH, FUCK,” Kravitz says, flawlessy parried by closet guy’s “FUCK, AUGH.”

Kravitz steps back. Too far. The bed catches his ass, which hopefully looks like he sat down intentionally and didn’t reverse kneecap himself. Closet guy straightens up, long, gorgeous hair all over the place, and he spits hair out of his mouth and eyes Kravitz, steely, but also nervous, like Kravitz might be angling to kick his ass. 

Kravitz might. He hasn’t decided yet. He’s a little panicked, and he doesn’t like, WANT to call the cops, obviously, but there’s a fuckin’ dude in his closet and he’s been home for like three hours now. He’s played dad rock as high as his phone could go and danced in his boxers, and showered, and changed into pajamas, and eaten popcorn like both a horse and the tender but misunderstood delinquent girl feeding that horse and maybe that’s not necessarily something he wanted some kind of malignant fucknugget to witness.

“Who the fuck are you and how did you get in my apartment??” he demands, grabbing the nearest heavy object and brandishing his shitty lamp that makes an annoying noise when it’s on like it’s some kind of newfangled glaive-mace. 

“Who the fuck are you and where am I?” closet guy retorts aggressively, in a funny accent Kravitz can’t really place. Maybe it’s fake. Is this guy fucking with him? He’s too tired to be fucked with. He won’t allow it. 

“My apartment, asshole, keep up!” 

“Answer the first question!”

“You first!” Kravitz juts with the lamp, which is unfortunately a little flaccid, what with its flexible spine and all. He should have grabbed a shoe and just chucked it. 

“I don’t remember what you said!” the guy admits, which, okay, Kravitz kind of gets it, and it’s sort of hard to stay serious, even with his hackles up as they are. “Why are you dressed like that?”

“I’m in my pajamas!” Kravitz says, defensive. He knows the old, old Death Note t-shirt and Jack Skellington pants, which he got from the defunct K-mart mumble years ago, are not like. Flattering. BUT!! Listen. His vintage monogrammed pjs are in the dirty pile. And the dirty pile has gotten a little big, cause things have been nuts at work, and he’s worn out and exhausted and other words for fuckin’ wiped. What is it people say now. Eepy? Baby you’d best believe he’s eepy to the core like some kind of fucking blood disease. 

Man. Maybe he should get his vitamins checked. 

But also fuck you, closet guy, he’s in his own home, and no one was supposed to witness him tonight. He’s done being seen and perceived. You hear him? Done!

“Is that…so.” The guy squints at him. Kravitz would be assuming what the fuck he’s judging Kravitz on, but he kind of got lost in the attractive freckles and his long elegant fingers, and the gap in his teeth. And the hair, despite the fact that it is still all over the place, isn’t a minus. “I am Taako, prince of the elves.” 

“Oh, okay, and we’re back to zero,” Kravitz says, cheerfully realizing he’s going to have to fucking call 911 because he truly cannot figure out what the better option is. Except. He’s going to get strangled in his fucking Death Note t-shirt from 2013 because his goddamn Jack Skellington pants don’t have pockets and his phone is in the kitchen, actually, and they may not put that in his eulogy but everyone is going to know anyway, because of cringe osmosis. 

He doesn’t usually believe in cringe. Funny what imminent death does to your philosophy. 

“Why is that?” Taako squints at him, tucking hair behind his ears. And, shit, maybe he’s done costume work for whatever the fuck this is, maybe he’s had some insane plastic surgery, but his ears truly are crazy pointy. Not even elf in a movie pointy, like ten, twelve inches long, and they flick when Taako touches them. Kravitz reorients some facts, none of which add up, and he struggles.

“I’m Kravitz,” he says, against both his good judgement and his judgement he uses when his good judgement is dirty. 

Taako squints at him harder. Kravitz wonders if he should put the lamp down, especially considering it knocked over his wifi router which is blinking frantically like some kind of crying electric beast, but honestly whatever at this point. Like, is he going to die? Shit, then at least he doesn’t have to work tomorrow, you know? Sorry mama, he promises he cares, mostly. 

“Assistant head of sales,” he adds. Taako considers this at length. 

“I think I took the wrong portal,” he decides. He turns back to the closet, which reveals that he has a tail, actually, for real, as far as Kravitz can gather, and puts his hands on his enticing hips in frustration when he finds Kravitz’s bullshit mess of Work clothes, Dress Up clothes, Play clothes, and Nobody Can See Me Fuck Off clothes. And also four wigs, his heated blanket, the printer he’s mad at, an embarrassing amount of hangers,  and two paper boxes full of dumb garbage he can’t let go of from two moves ago. And some glitter. Shut up is why. 

"What the fuck is going on?" Kravitz demands. 

"Well," Taako says, with deep conviction, and doesn't finish. He turns back to face Kravitz. That tail flicks dismissively, still somehow incredibly appearing to be legitimate. Kravitz eyes him over, takes in his elaborate and scrumbled suit-gown of purple and gold gossamer and his thighs high boots and his golden eye makeup and also the way he keeps glancing at Kravitz's pajama pants. 

"Well?" Kravitz prompts. "You realize you're in Austin, Texas?" 

"Nah, uh," Taako looks a little pale now. "Chaboi was in Phandolin, in uh, Faerun, the fuck is a Texas?" 

So true. 

"Don't you dare tell me you hopped through a portal in my closet like reverse Narnia." 

"Narnia?" 

Man. Maybe Kravitz will hit him with the lamp. Shame he's so pretty. 

"I don't have time for this," he mutters. "You always watch those fantasy movies and they just handle it, but I don't have- what am I supposed to do, call in an elf prince personal day? If I'm going to take an elf prince personal day you can bet- sorry, I…" Kravitz winces. Just because he wants this to be fake doesn't mean there isn't a situation at hand. 

"I mean, Taako is all for an elf prince personal day if it means what I think it means." Taako grins, showing surprisingly sharp teeth, which Kravitz feels totally regular about, no details thanks. "I was running from some assholes who wanted to murder me. I mean, I don't necessarily think monarchy is the way of the future either, but you don't see me assassing about it." 

"Well, no monarchy here." Kravitz can't help but be glib. He finally puts the stupid lamp down. Just on the bed. No way he's sleeping anytime soon. This makes the cord pull taut. His sad router just slumps onto the floor. Taako jumps and inspects its flashing lights, alarmed but also kind of fascinated. 

"No?" He glances at Kravitz, and back at the lights. "Sick. That sounds easier."

"Well, it's not like there's no- we don't have to do politics. Hey, Taako, if I take this as nonfiction, which I am not committed to, and do not faint, which I am also not committed to, what the fuck am I meant to do next?"

"I mean either we take that elf prince personal day, really make it count, or uh, you magic me back home, mister?" 

"Magic isn't real!" Kravitz runs his hands down his face, excruciatingly aware of the comedy of the situation. 

"Ah," Taako says, really tasting the gravity here. "Guess there's no option but to fuck me." 

"Now hang on," Kravitz says, struggling not to laugh. 

"No, I'm right, probably." 

#taz #tazb #taakitz #the adventure zone #the adventure zone balance #fan5fics #taz balance #taakitz fic #taz nc #taz november celebration

[signoraviolettavalery]

"you know," Bojan says, as they lie side by side, wrapped up in each other in post-sex bliss, the sweat long cooled on their skin. "I think you're into Damon?"

"What?" Kris asks, going for nonchalance, but his telltale heart gives him away, its beats speeding up beneath Bojan's hand.

"I've seen the way you look at him. It's the way you looked at me, before we got together, though I didn't recognize it for what it was back then."

Kris takes the hand on his chest, flat over his heart, and holds it. "Bojan. You're the one for me, always. I'm sorry if my eyes wander sometimes, I don't have a defense other than, well, I'm not blind, but you're it for me. My always and forever."

"I know," Bojan says, seeming unperturbed.

And then he drops a bombshell.

"But it's okay. You can want him too. I don't mind. You can even have him, if that would make you happy."

"W-what?" This time, Kris is really asking, not trying to mask telltale desires.

"I think he really wants you to bend him over and dom the hell out of him. Which would be really hot, actually. Not that you should decide based on whether I find it hot, but you should know that's how I feel about it."

"I - " Kris doesn't even know what to say.

"Hey." Bojan props himself on an elbow and looks down at him. "You don't have to. Sometimes you want to just..enjoy looking and wanting from afar. I get that. But I'm saying, if you want more, don't let me stop you."

And Kris does want. Not just to look, but to have, to take.

"You'd really be okay with that?" he asks.

"More than okay," Bojan reassures him. "I want you to be happy. I know what we have between us isn't going anywhere. And also, it's like, really hot when you're bossy and I think I'd enjoy seeing it from a different angle than the receiving end of it."

Kris can't help raising an eyebrow. "Oh, you like when I'm bossy? Because as I recall, you're usually very bratty about it."

"Yeah, but that just means you get to put me in my place, don't tell me you don't enjoy that."

And suddenly, Kris finds himself on top of Bojan, kissing him. "I do enjoy that. And you should know your place."

Bojan's eyes widen, and between their bodies, his dick makes its willingness for another round known.

#damkris #bokris #HALP #bodamkris #this just....happened? #idk if it's the start of a fic or #but

[belit0]

Helloo! How are you, and how are you doing? I am very obsessed with your post’s and i can’t get enough of them! They are so good written, you are one of the beat writers i have ever seen!! Can i may have a request about Madara and his lover, his lover is very insecure about her flat chest (Not too much she has just small breasts) and always gets picked up on it. She cries in front of the mirror, and Madara sees her when she does that. And then the day after some girls picks up on her small chest and make her cry. Feel free to ignore it, it’s strange and a little weird, so you don’t have to do it. Love you <33

Thank you so much for your beautiful words baby!!! I greatly appreciate your presence here, thank you for sticking around and reading my work, love u too😭💫

I can totally relate to this because I have the flattest chest in the world, and hell, we know Madara won't let his wife have a bad time

"Wake up to reality" but make it bitchier 😩❤️‍🩹

Growing up with Izuna teaches you a thing or two👀

(Y/N) thinks she is alone in the house, and that is the only reason she allows herself vulnerability. She wouldn't cry about it in front of anyone, always strong on the outside, but sometimes she needs to break down and admit that certain things hurt.

Stepping out of the shower, she stands in front of the mirror and admires her figure. She is a pretty girl, nice curves in anyone's eyes, but some people's envy is too heavy to ignore.

She knows that being the leader's wife exposes her to public opinion, having everyone notice and judge her, talk about and debate the details of her personal life as if they knew her. (Y/N) learned to ignore them, to turn a deaf ear to whatever stupid things they might say, but there are things that sometimes can't be avoided.

Deep in her mind, she always had a small annoyance regarding her body: lack of prominent breasts, typical of any conventionally attractive woman. When Madara proclaimed her as his wife after months of secretly dating, it was the first thing that was talked about.

Having small breasts, according to the malicious tongues, speaks of low fertility, of an inability to properly convince. How dare the Uchiha leader choose a woman who will not be able to provide him with a healthy family!

Of course, these are the words of all the superstitious ignoramuses, who have no idea how the body works and believe everything is based on strange myths. The elderly usually furnish the most prominent comments, but (Y/N) ignore them because of their age, forged in another era and impossible to change.

No one had ever expressed an opinion of her anatomy before announcing her formality alongside Madara, no one had ever mentioned anything about her flat chest or lack of bulky breasts, but the exposure to the public eye for being beside such an important person was like being thrown to the wolves.

What she can't tolerate are women her age, girls with a different consciousness and way of life, who latch on to things others say to cautiously insult without being obvious. You can imagine what a scandal there could be if one of them is purposely mean against the leader's wife, always taking precautions to upset her without anyone noticing.

She looks at herself in front of the mirror and lowers the towel to expose her breast, feeling conscious about their shape, size, lack of fullness. She doesn't realize she's crying about it, overwhelmed by all the ugly words she's received these past few days. People can be excessively cruel, and no matter how much self-assurance, self-confidence and self-love she has, every insult or taunt hits hard at her defenses, tearing down her walls bit by bit.

It is infuriating to feel this way because of other people, to give them this power, but she can't help it.

Each tear represents an opinion about her, unable to stop her crying. She moves at different angles trying to find prominence, something that might make her feel better about it, that might fill the emptiness she feels in her stomach, but she cannot console herself.

What if the elders are right? If she can't give her man a healthy, powerful family? Or if Madara gets tired of her for not meeting the stupid standards of conventional beauty, and looks for a woman with another type of build? What if-

"Fuck this, I'm better than that." In an awakening of logic, (Y/N) manages to evade the mindless intrusive thoughts, towel drying her face and proceeding to get dressed.

She ignores the fact that her man watched the whole scene from outside the room, not daring to interrupt an intimate and personal moment, make her feel exposed in her vulnerability, but taking in every glance at the mirror and every tear.

Madara is neither idiot nor ignorant, he knows and is aware of what is said about his wife, the stupidities that people think they have the power to comment without even knowing her, and although he shuts up every person he hears spouting idiocy, he can't be everywhere.

From now on, he will personally make sure it never happens again.

……

The two walk together through the Uchiha compound market, countless people slowing Madara down to greet him and discuss personal matters they want to work on with him. People demand and absorb him like ants on honey, and (Y/N), used to it, always ends up wandering alone until he manages to catch up with her.

Today is no exception, and while three little old ladies monopolize all his attention as soon as they see him arrive at the place, complaining about the bad state of the crops and the crumbling of their little stalls in the street, (Y/N) lets go of his hand and walks around the place alone.

She visits different shops and greets anyone who approaches her, and when she stops at a flower arrangement stall, three women look at her out of the corner of their eyes. They suspiciously approach her but pretend to be talking to each other, a tone of voice conveniently loud.

"Have you seen her? She is so unworthy of the leader!"

"Yes... I mean, look at her, isn't she the most normal, unattractive woman you ever saw?"

"The leader deserves someone who can keep him truly entertained, a good body."

"We all know he values pronounced curves and big breasts, like mine!"

"Yes! You would be the perfect woman for him! Maybe you should try to win him over... look at the mess of a girl he has next to him, he'll jump on you in a second!"

"Madara-Sama will die to get his hands on you and get rid of that horrid little brat!

She will remain silent about it, pretending not to hear them and maintaining the decorum expected of a woman of high rank like her, formal and untainted in the face of any attack she might receive so as not to leave her husband in a bad light.

Of course, she does not expect at all what she hears behind her back as an arm comes around her shoulders and presses her against a marked chest.

"You three, I'm sorry to announce, are the most hideous bitches I've ever seen in my entire fucking life." Madara speaks with a sternness in his voice that makes them shrink back, losing all the boldness they were handling themselves with a few seconds ago.

"And I mean it, for real. I've been through terrible things, wars, death, but I've never seen anything that leaves me more disgusted and aghast than the three of you. What the fuck are you doing in my compound, serving wretchedness and ugliness all over the place?" The women gawk at him, unable to believe Uchiha Madara himself is talking to them like this. Always so formal and proper, no one would expect to hear those kinds of words from his mouth.

The whole market remains silent, paying attention to the situation, watching with surprise and skepticism as the leader humiliates them in front of everyone. The elders stop selling, people stop buying, and everyone turns to watch the exchange.

"You dare to talk about my wife, my beautiful (Y/N), when you are the ugliest bitches I've ever seen, walking around and scaring anyone who sees you? To judge someone you must be at least on their level, you revolting women."

"Madara... maybe that's enough..." She whispers from his chest, cocooned in her man's skin and utterly shocked by what she hears. Sure, she knows her husband's casual, offbeat side, it was what made her fall in love with him, but she never quite anticipated him risking his reputation in front of all his people like this for her.

"No, not enough at all. They need to wake up to reality, understand they are dreadfully ugly, that no one will ever want them, and no one will ever choose them. You," he points to the first one who attacked her, "your tits are fake, horrible job, you should ask for your money back. You," points to the next one, "you're the nastiest woman I've ever seen in my fucking life, fix your teeth, and you," points to the last one, "you're rotten with envy from the inside out, disgusting. Get the fuck out of here, now."

"YES! GET OUT OF HERE."

"GET OUT YOU WITCHES!"

"YOU'RE NOTHING LIKE MISS (Y/N), GET OUT!"

"RUN AWAY, YOU INSOLENT HAGS!"

All the people in the market join their leader, accompanying his statements and pushing the women away. (Y/N) can't believe the display of the event, how they all unite and support their leader with total respect, how they protect her along with him.

She never felt so supported, as she watches the three women being rushed to the entrance of the Uchiha compound and flee in tears, egos shattered and abased, an ultimately needed journey of humility.

Madara smiles at her like a small child as chaos unfolds around them, cradled by his arms and pressed against his chest, contained, backed up, protected. No one ever thought he could behave like that, talk the way he did, but it seems the Uchiha leader always surprises.

Maybe he learned a thing or two from his younger brother, after all.

#uchiha madara x reader #madara uchiha x reader #madara x reader #madara #uchiha madara #madara uchiha #uchiha clan #naruto shippuden #naruto imagines #naruto #naruto x reader

[storiesbyrhi]

Angel of the First Degree - Chapter 1: Valium

Eddie Munson x Chubby & Inexperienced!Reader 2359 words

Warnings: Anxiety/panic attack; misuse of prescription medication; fatphobia including internalised; cigarettess; bullying; body issues; no beta; warnings updated each chapter

Synopsis: When Eddie Munson finds you in the midst of a panic attack, it is the beginning of something. A fic featuring body and sex positivity, Eddie in a dress, soft small moments, scary big truths, and all the usual special feelings you'd expect from one of my stories.

Chapter 1: Valium

Eddie rounded the corner, hands in his pocket already pulling out his pack of cigarettes. He’d moved too swiftly, unable to stop and slink backwards without being seen.

“Sorry,” he said, hands up defensively. “Didn’t know it was, ah, occupied. I’ll-” Eddie was about to say ‘go,’ when he saw the look on your face.

Your skin was blotchy, tears streaming down your cheeks. Bloodshot eyes, mouth open, gasping for air. He knew a panic attack when he saw one, even if he didn’t know they were a thing with a name.

“Are you okay?” Eddie asked.

You said nothing as you stared at him like an animal caught in the headlights. He thought you might speak, but it was clear you were chasing your breath.

“You… need to breathe. Keep going like that and you’re gonna pass out. And, you know, I’ve got a bit of a reputation already. Don’t want to add ‘seen with unconscious girl behind the woodwork shed’ to it,” he joked.

Nothing. No reaction from you. It was like he wasn’t even there. Eddie was almost going to give up, but there was a memory of you in his mind. Vivid. Formative. So, instead of leaving you he said your name once, firmly, loudly. It made you jump a little, startled.

“Come on. Sit,” Eddie said, moving to sit at your feet, cross legged on the shitty high school grass.

Complying, you sat, legs folded under you on an angle in front of Eddie.

He looked you dead in the eyes and said, “In through the nose, out through the mouth.” He demonstrated. You tried to copy it, but it took a couple of tries. Slowly though, it worked.

“There she is,” Eddie said, his voice back to being soft. “You’re okay.”

Eddie watched you avoid eye contact, pulling a drink bottle from your bag and gulp down water. It was quiet, the distant sounds of power towels and teenage laughter providing the only relief for any awkwardness. To kill time, wait for you, he got out the cigarette he had come to that hidden away spot for in the first place. He leaned back, the heel of his hands digging into the ground behind him for support.

“Thank you,” you said, voice barely above a whisper.

“No problem… So, ah, what class is so awful that someone like you is skipping?”

Sniffling, you replied, “I’ve got a free period,”

“Ah. Of course…” Eddie took another drag of his cigarette. “Do… you wanna talk about it?”

God, when was the last time you had just… talked about it? Talked about anything? Months. Months and months. But what were you going to do? Spill your guts out to Eddie Munson?

“I’m okay,” you replied.

“You sure? I am an excellent listener.”

You looked at him, saw how casual and honest he was. He maintained eye contact while he lifted his face to exhale smoke up and away from you.

“I have to give a speech next period. In History,” you told him.

Eddie was confused. “I don’t know if you remember, but we were in the same English class last year,” he recalled.

“Yeah, I took a Senior class,” you replied.

“Yeah. Even though you were the only Junior in the class, you never got nervous. Always seemed real confident to me.”

He was right. The school counsellor had told you picking up an extra Senior class would look great on college applications, so you chose English. Eddie was repeating his Senior year for the first time then and spent the whole time sitting in the back corner not participating. Unlike you. You would speak first in class discussions. Joke with the other students, your friends. Eddie remembered, you were eloquent and sure.

“Yeah, well, that was before,” you mumbled.

“Before what?” Eddie asked.

Was he fucking joking?

“Seriously?”

Eddie shrugged, made a face that clearly meant he had no idea what you were referring to.

“You don’t… know?” you asked.

“I’m not exactly part of the Hawkins High popular crowd phone tree,” he joked.

“Yeah, well, neither am I anymore.” You didn’t say it with venom, but with sadness. Eddie saw the pain in your face. You pulled at blades of grass before braving eye contact again. “You really don’t know anything?”

“I mean… I don’t see you in the cafeteria with the rest of the pom pom party, but I figured, you know, Senior year. Smart girl. Probably spends her time studying.”

He really didn’t know about the… About any of it.

However, at some point, he noticed your absence during lunch.

“I’m… not friends with them anymore,” you told him, leaving it at that, a little thrown that you were telling him anything at all.

“Oh… Well, good riddance? Right?” The joke slipped out and he was sitting up straight, stubbing his smoke out into the grass. “Sorry. Sorry. I didn’t mean- I’m sure they’re-” He couldn’t think of a lie. He was sure they were all assholes.

“It’s okay,” you said with a weak smile. “But, yeah, I’m not on… Good terms with them,”

“And now you gotta give a talk in front of them, kind of thing?” Eddie guessed.

You nodded, thinking about it. The tightness returned to your chest and you were aware of how dry your mouth was again.

“No, no, no, you’re fine. You’re gonna do fine,” Eddie told you, reaching out and taking a hand. “Don’t freak out on me again.” He might have been able to coach you out of panic, but as soon as you stepped foot in that History class you were going to lose it. He knew it. You knew it. “Alright, fuck. Here,” he said, pulling a tiny plastic bag from his pocket. “You on anything?”

“What?”

Eddie smiled at the way you were innocently watching him. “Like, medications. Anything?” You shook your head. “Alright, well, I’m giving you half of one of these bad boys. It will just… take the edge off. Like, barely. Just enough.”

You watched him snap a small pill in half using a loose coin he found in his pocket. He held it out to you and nodded.

“What is it?” you asked, looking at it sitting in the palm of your hand.

“Just valium. Half the school is on ‘em. I promise it’s safe.”

There were reasons to not trust Eddie Munson, drug dealer, in that moment. Maybe he was just trying to get you hooked on his drugs so he could make lots of money off you. That’s what drug dealers did, right? Or maybe he was like all the other boys, only thinking of one thing.

There were reasons to trust him, though. His kindness, for one. It was a warm feeling you weren’t used to anymore. Secondly, you had very little to lose.

You swallowed the cut valium with the last of the water in your bottle.

“Thank you,”

“Again – no problem,” he replied. “You should probably just sit here for another five minutes. Make sure you don’t have a reaction or anything,”

“Does that happen?” you asked, the pitch in your voice indicating worry.

“No. No. I just… Ya know. Looking for an excuse to keep talking to you,” Eddie said, his delivery perfect. Flirty. Kind. A little bit of danger.

His smile stretched ear to ear and his teeth were whiter than you would have expected for someone who did… drugs. Do drug dealers do drugs all the time?

You blushed, looked down and busied yourself with looking for your compact mirror.

“What class are you skipping?” you asked him, suddenly aware you had no idea what he was doing out there, besides having a smoke.

“Ah, that would be English. Same class, third year in a row,” Eddie told you, exaggerating a wince. He caught the micro expression flash across your face. “I know, I know. Going for a fourth at this rate. It’s just… I didn’t do the homework, so…”

“What’s the homework? Of Mice and Men still?”

“Yep. I could recite that book front to back…. ‘What the hell do you suppose is eatin’ them guys,’” Eddie quoted. 

“Why haven’t you done the work then?” you asked. Eddie shrugged. “Is it an essay? What’s the question?”

Eddie was just happy to have gotten you talking, distracted from your own perceived impending doom.

“Uhhh… It’s like… Discuss the ways… the book is… similar to a play? And… does that make the book better or worse?” he recalled, doing a pretty good job at remembering the essay question. To be fair to Eddie, he had planned on doing it. He really wasn’t trying to fail again. But Wayne had to cover an extra shift, so Eddie had to do the laundry and grocery shopping. He would have time to do it all too, but he was shitty at time management.

You laughed. “That’s the same question from last year. It’s about how each section starts with these long, descriptive paragraphs. They set the scene the same way it would in a script for a play,” you told him as you fished out a notepad and pen from your bag.

“What are you doing?” Eddie asked.

“I can’t get you an A, not without the book and more time, but I can probably get you a pass?”

Eddie was stunned for a second, watched you begin to madly scribble out sentences, trying to use your thick thighs as a table, your legs still folded under you.

“Why?”

“As a thank you,” you said. “Now shush. Let me do this,”

“Well fuck, alright. Here, let me be useful, at least,” Eddie said, laying down on the grass. He took the notepad and put it on his chest, gestured for you to continue, then put his arms behind his head.

“You have to close your eyes if you’re gonna lay like that,” you told him, leaning down and letting his ribcage keep the notepad mostly steady.

“Like what?” Eddie asked, looking up at you. He didn’t like the frown you shot him, so he did what he was told and closed his eyes.

Relieved that he didn’t press the subject, you could focus on the homework without feeling the heat of embarrassment. You were sure that you looked horrible from his angle. Fat.

There were ten short minutes left until the next period when you finished. “Done!”

Eddie’s eyes opened and he sat up. “She’s gonna know I didn’t write this,” he said, flicking through the pages.

“It’s not against school rules to have someone else scribe your work,” you said.

“Look at you. Loopholes, huh? How do you know that one?” Eddie asked. When you hesitated, he smirked. “You’ve done this before,”

“Yeah,”

“You really are different. To how you were last year, I mean,”

“Is that… good?” you ventured.

“Yeah. I think so. You don’t?”

Jesus. That was a can of worms you did not want to open. You shrugged and went back to looking for your compact mirror. When you found it and saw your reflection you almost gasped.

“I look like a raccoon!” you squealed involuntary, furiously rubbing under your eyes trying to shift the mascara.

“A cute raccoon,” Eddie clarified. You shot him an angry look that he just chuckled at. “Here, lemme,” he said, pulling the bandana that hung from his back pocket out and picking up your water bottle. Empty. “Spit,”

“What?”

“No water. Spit. Unless you want my spit on your face?”

You hesitated, realising you didn’t know how to just… spit. The next best thing was taking the bandana and sucking on the tip of it, handing it back to Eddie despite knowing what it was for. You could have done it yourself, but he had said to let him, and there was something in that tone that made you want to comply again.

Eddie held your chin with one hand and wiped at your messy makeup with the other.

“There. Pretty as a picture,” he told you, letting go.

Checking his work in your mirror, you nodded. “Thank you. Again,”

“Think I might need to thank you for that one. Come on,” he said, standing up and offering you a hand. “You better get a head start.”

You brushed the grass off your knees and picked up your bag, slinging it onto your back. “What do you mean?”

“Can’t go out there together. You, seen with me, behind the shed? Social suicide,” Eddie said not sad but neutrally, which was way worse.

You’d already survived social suicide. Something Eddie had no idea about. When he found out what had happened, you were sure he would be disgusted by you too. He’d feel like the people who used to be your friends did. It would be the only thing Eddie Munson, the basketball team, and the cheer squad had in common, but it would unite them in their shared revulsion.

Until then, you could pretend.

“So, you won’t walk me to class?” you asked looking up at him.

That goddamn smile was solar power. “You sure?”

“I’m sure,” you confirmed.

Eddie nodded once and began to walk with you in the direction of the main buildings. The bell rang as you approached, and soon enough you were surrounded by students. Most of them had their own shit going on and paid no mind to you or Eddie. Some of them were interested in your fall from grace.

The walk was void of conversation, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. At the door of your classroom, Eddie spoke. “Feeling okay?”

You nodded. “Yeah. I think the valium worked,"

“Good. That’s good… Well… knock ‘em dead, kid,” Eddie said, punching you in the shoulder so gently you hardly felt it.

“Thank you, for everything. I…”

“S’okay. Just… Remember. You’ve only got a year left here. Then you’re okay. Whatever else is going on, it doesn’t matter,” Eddie said, his gaze falling on your classmates as they approached. You nodded. “See ya around.” All you could do was nod, because how you felt as he stepped away from you was beyond your capacity for words in the moment.

CHAPTER 2

End Note: Future chapters will likely be longer; the overall word count is at 12,000 and I am nowhere near done. Let me know your early thoughts and feelings!

Find me on AO3 here. Want an Eddie Munson zine? Check it on on my Insta.

Eddie Taglist (Open): @solomons-finest-rum @ruinedbythehobbit

#Mine #Eddie Munson #Eddie Munson Fanfic #Eddie Munson x Reader #Eddie Munson x You #Eddie Munson/Reader #Eddie Munson/You #Stranger Things

[splatsvilles-fashionista]

Major Splatoon 3 details from the official site

In addition to the Splatoon 3 Direct, Nintendo also released a couple of big articles on the official website that contained a lot of juicy details not covered in the Direct. I’ve combed through them and cherry-picked the most noteworthy details, but if you’d like to read them yourself you can do so here:

https://splatoon.nintendo.com/en/news/catch-up-on-all-the-latest-from-the-splatoon-3-direct/

https://splatoon.nintendo.com/en/news/squid-research-lab-dives-deep-into-the-splatlands/

And if not then let us begin!

Dummies in the Lobby - in addition to the regular target dummies, the lobby also houses a special dummy that can fight back, firing ink for you to train your defensive game against.

Team-wide food buffs! - In additional to the usual food that you can eat for extra cash and experience, Splatoon 3 introduces a new type of food that gives these buffs to your whole team. While it’s not outright stated, these most likely stack, encouraging people to bring them as often as possible for even greater gains.

Future update: Keywords - Coming at a later date, you will be able to enter codes such as #TurfWarsSquids or #SplatZoneFans, which will let you interact with the ghosts of other players using the same Keyword in the lobby. This makes me think of the password feature in the Souls series, where you can enter a password to only get matched up with people using the same password.

Save Data Bonuses from Splatoon 2 - This is a big one, if you have Splatoon 2 save data, you get access to some very cool bonuses, like three Golden Sheldon Licenses, each of which unlocks any Main Weapon you’d like regardless of level. Additionally, you will get matched up with people on the same skill level from Splatoon 2, and even access Anarchy Battles earlier as well as potentially start with a higher rank!

New ability: Sub Resistance Up - Seen in the Direct but not expanded upon, Sub Resistance Up is a new ability that protects you from Sub Weapons, by either reducing the damage from things like Bombs and Sprinklers, or by reducing the time you’re marked by the Angle Shooter.

Abilities that won’t return - You might have predicted it based on what we just discussed, but Bomb Defense Up DX is not returning from Splatoon 2, but that’s not the only ability being left behind, as Main Power Up is not in Splatoon 3. Considering the impact it had on Splatoon 2 as a whole that is probably for the best.

Star Power and Ability Chunks - In Splatoon 2, Star Power indicated how many Sub Slots a piece of Gear started with, and Super Sea Snails could be used to open up the rest. In Splatoon 3, Super Sea Snails increase the Star Power of the gear directly, opening up slots to match. Moreover, Star Power can also be increased by purchasing duplicates of the same piece of Gear, and can be increased beyond three, which does not add extra slots but rather an increase to experience gain for that piece of gear. Why does this matter? Because Gear can now keep gaining experience even after it’s been maxed out! That’s right, all gear now works like the Splatfest Tee! Rejoice! This is easily one of the best changes they’re making, in my opinion.

Splashtag Nicknames - This time around, your Switch username and your in-game name are not the same! Your nickname can be changed after you first pick it, but there is a cooldown period between changes.

Contributing to Splat Fests before the Splat Fest starts - That’s right, you can now rep for your side before the party has even started! After a Splatfest has been announced and a side has been chosen, you will earn Conch Shells by battling and playing Salmon Run. Conch Shells can be spent at a Shell-Out machine for the chance to win customization items, and the amount of Conch Shells collected by each team will impact the final results of the Splatfest.

Salmon Run will be always available - You heard that right, no more wait times! You’ll always be able to go for a shift if you want to.

Salmon Run Lobby - Salmon Run will have its own Lobby in the new Grizzco offices, which contain their own training room where you can test out the weapons of the day, practice your egg throwing, or hang out with the ghostly representations of your co-workers

Eggsecutive VP - A new rung has been added to the Grizzco-rporate ladder, usurping Profreshional as the new highest rank. The pay rate is better, of course, but are you ready to really work for that check?

King Salmonid-exclusive rewards - King Salmonids are rare bonus waves that can appear at the end of a shift that pit you against a super-powerful boss. Failing this wave does not lose you your whole shift, as you have already finished your actual job. You’ll want to try your heart out either way though, as the damage you deal to the King Salmonid will reward you with Fish Scales, which can be traded in for Splashtag designs, locker decorations, and even, get this, alternate work uniforms!

And that’s about everything noteworthy I gleaned from the articles, but I recommend you read them yourself if you have the patience, as there are a lot of cool info beyond what I discussed here.

#Splatoon 3 #Salmon Run

[bucky-bucky-bucky-bucky]

Somebody's Watching Me | Bucky Barnes x Reader

Hi, friends! Fun fact: I was being lightly stalked at work when I first started my job at the gym! So this story is like, mostly true, unfortunately. The guy didn't commit any acts of violence against me, but it was absolutely creepy and weird and uncomfortable and he said the most unhinged shit.

If you like my stuff, throw me a reblog 🥰

Warnings: stalking, reader injury, blood, creepy men

-------------------------------

The loud thud of your bag hitting the floor signaled to Bucky that you were home. He raced from the bedroom to the front door, happy as ever to see his best girl. But his smile drooped when he found you leaning against the door, knocking your head against it over and over again. 

“Hey…bad day?” He snuck a hand behind your head, cushioning your skull from the hard surface. “No, I’m just annoyed. That weird guy came back and I spent the last hour of my shift listening to him ramble”, you leaned against Bucky’s body, a sigh of relief pushing past your lips. 

Unfortunately, Bucky had to ask which weird guy you were referencing, seeing as an abundance of creepy men liked to bother you at work. “The weirdest one- the guy who talked to me for over an hour on Monday about how he’s a ‘super-genius’ and ‘vibrates on a really high level’”- you rolled your eyes at the words.

The same guy had been hounding you ever since you started your new job at the gym. He loved to talk your ear off whenever he could about the strangest things imaginable. Nothing that came out of his mouth was believable in the slightest, and much of what he said signaled massive red flags to Bucky.

“Oh, the guy who comes to the gym in jeans and doesn’t even work out?” Bucky huffed, “the one who’s stalking you?” Bucky didn’t even know the guy, but already hated him. No matter how many times you said the strange man was “harmless” and “just eccentric”, Bucky disagreed. The entire situation stirred an uneasy feeling in his gut that he simply couldn’t shake.

“I mean, he just shows up at the gym to talk to you- you said he came in four times on Saturday without ever working out. He’s just there to get near you”. 

Every single coworker of yours knew about the weird guy who shadowed you. They’d even taken to texting you a warning when he arrived. Everyone tried to run defense and keep him as far from you as possible, but he somehow managed to slip through the cracks.

“It’s fine, Buck. My boss knows, the manager knows… They won’t step in until-” you cleared your throat, “um, until things become ‘sexual or violent in nature’”.

This threw Bucky into a rage- just like you knew it would. He gently pulled your face from his chest and took your cheeks in his large hands, looking down at you with an expression you’d never seen before. A sharp anger burned behind his eyes, but anxiety twisted his features into a terrified mask, “Until?” You nodded. “So your manager wants to wait until this guy touches you?” You nodded again. 

“Did you tell them that we switched cars because he knows what you drive and waited at your car for you every day last week? That I make you carry a knife on you in case?” And for a third time, you nodded. 

“They said I’m making too much out of it…and they’re right, honestly-” You stared down at your hands, digging your nails into your cuticles like you always did when stressed. Once again, Bucky took your face in his hands and angled your gaze upwards to meet his, “you’re not making too much of it- this guy asked you to write his manifesto! You know who writes manifestos? Serial killers”, Bucky’s hands left your face and raked sharply through his hair, “I mean, this guy is completely unhinged”.

“Other people write manifestos, too, Buck-”

“Yeah, but it’s usually serial killers…” Bucky felt helpless. He’d wanted to drive you to and from work when the strange man started showing up, but you wouldn’t let him. You didn’t want to give up your sense of independence just because a weirdo frequented your workplace, and Bucky respected that- but he hated how casually you treated the situation. You tried to assuage Bucky’s anxieties time and time again, telling him that this strange man was “barely” taller than you and that you “could totally kick his ass if need be”- but Bucky didn’t want there to be a need. 

Bucky wrapped his arms tightly around you, wishing he never had to let go. “I just worry about you, sweets. Guys like this- if they feel slighted even a little bit, they fly off the handle…” You knew Bucky was right, but you couldn’t let the creep win; you weren’t going to hide out and let some random guy ruin your new job. 

“You don’t have to worry about me. I know this guy is odd, but he doesn’t seem like the type to get violent.”

Bucky wanted to argue. He wanted to tell you just how dark this all seemed to him, how scary this man appeared, but he knew you wouldn’t listen. If he had his way, Bucky would’ve kept you home from work every day until this guy was investigated- but he didn’t want to smother you. Against his instincts, Bucky dropped the subject and escorted you to the kitchen for a well-deserved glass of wine.

“Oh my godddd”, you groaned as you slipped through the front door the following day, “you would not believe what this dude said to me today”.

“The super genius?”

“Yes!”

“Oh, god- okay,” Bucky quickly sat in a dining room chair, bracing himself for your story, “I’m ready”. With a few quick strides, you arrived in front of Bucky and climbed into his lap, “alright, prepare yourself. This dude said that he’s Jesus’s COUSIN, and that Jesus delivered the Ten Commandments to him telepathically when he was a kid”. 

Bucky just stared at you with a blank expression, disbelief preventing him from forming a coherent sentence. “He said he’s a ‘3D embodiment of an angel’ and that we as people are fighting ‘several intergalactic wars within our own beings’. Oh, and he’s apparently writing the ’Final Testament’”. 

Bucky’s calm, collected façade shattered all at once, “What? I don’t- I don’t even know what to say. How did you respond?”

“I just nodded along until one of my coworkers rescued me. Cause if I laugh in his face, that would be considered ‘rude’ and not ‘on brand for the company’”. 

Bucky shut his eyes and pinched at the bridge of his nose, replaying everything you’d just told him on an endless loop. “Doll. This guy is nuts- he shouldn’t be allowed to be near you…” His eyes snapped open suddenly, his gaze overflowing with concern, “Wait- they’re more worried about you being ‘on brand’ than they are about your safety?” You shrugged. Your boss and the general manager told you to keep the company mission statement in mind above all else, even in the face of sheer madness.

“My boss called me dramatic when I told him about it- he said dealing with ‘oddballs’ is part of the job. And I guess…” you fell quiet for a moment, listening to your boss’s words echo through your mind.

“I guess he’s right. I mean, does this guy make me uncomfortable? Yes. Do I hide from him if I see him coming? Also yes. But I’m probably making a mountain out of a molehill here”. The light chuckle you used to punctuate your sentence did nothing to lighten Bucky’s mood. He’d felt off about this strange man from the moment you first spoke about him, and things only seemed to get worse. 

“Nu-uh, don’t do that”, Bucky’s tone grew firm, “Didn’t you say he actively searches you out? That he wanted to know your schedule? And even asks your coworkers where you are?” Your small nod broke Bucky’s heart and filled the cracks with anxiety. Just the thought of someone stalking you, following you around or lurking behind you in the parking lot made his stomach turn.

“His membership needs to be cancelled- or you need to stay home until someone talks to him-”

“Buck, I’m not gonna stay home! It’s fine!”

“It’s not fine, doll. Something is wrong with this guy- he’s obsessed with you…”

You threw Bucky an overly casual shrug, “I’m not scared of him-”

“Well I’m scared enough for the both of us, baby. This is not okay.”

“I mean, it’s not ideal, but it happens. I’m not gonna stay home from work just because this dude has a weird vibe-“

“Why are you always so keen on flirting with danger, doll? This guy doesn’t just have a ‘weird vibe’, he’s stalking you. You make me promise not to take any unnecessary risks when I go on a mission, and I need you to do the same.” Bucky felt himself getting overwhelmed, swallowed whole by the fear of losing you. His heart pounded in his ears and a thin layer of sweat beaded across his forehead. He needed you to understand.

“Can you- can you please just put yourself first for once? You’re always worrying about everybody else while downplaying your own problems- but this is serious. You’re in danger. ”

The two of you stared at each other, a thick fog of tension weighing down the air around you. Bucky’s pleading eyes betrayed his desperation, his deep-seeded need to keep you safe. He let loose a deep sigh, feeling suddenly guilty for almost chastising you. 

“I’m sorry. I’m not trying to be overbearing or make you feel small. It’s just- something needs to be done about this. I know I worry too much, and that it probably gets on your nerves, but-” Bucky fell silent the instant your arms wound around him. 

He stared down at you as you poured all your love into the gesture and returned it tenfold, encircling you in the safety of his body. “It doesn’t get on my nerves, Buck…” you whispered into the crook of his neck, “I know you just want me to be safe. I’ll talk to my boss tomorrow. Okay? I’ll tell him something needs to be done”. 

A quiet ‘thank you’ fell from Bucky’s lips, paired with a deep sigh of relief. He knew it wouldn’t be the fix to your problem, but it was a step in the right direction.

Bucky’s phone rang the next afternoon, your name illuminating his screen, “Hey, doll. What’s up?” 

“My boss talked to the guy…”

“Oh, shit. What happened?”

“Basically, he told him that I said I was uncomfortable and that he needs to leave me alone”.

“Wait- your boss told your stalker that you complained about him?” A quiet ‘mhmm’ was all you managed to say back. “Oh, great.  Now he knows you’ve been talking about him- that’s perfect when dealing with an unstable individual”.

“And the worst part is that the guy showed up, ran into my boss immediately upon entering the building, they had their quick chat, and then he left”. An uneasiness settled into your bones as the reality of the situation washed over you. 

“Hang on- so that means…” The same sensation rendered Bucky nauseous as he put the puzzle pieces together, “that means he really was just there for you. Once your boss told him to leave you alone, he had no reason to be there”.

“Exactly”, a shiver ran down your spine despite the warm humidity of your hiding place in the women’s locker room. “I don’t know, maybe this is the end. Maybe he’ll finally stop creeping on me…” The manufactured optimism in your voice wasn’t enough to convince Bucky- he knew you too well. He begged you to come home- to leave work and take the rest of the day off, but you knew that wasn’t an option.

“I can’t just leave, Buck, I have clients all afternoon. Plus, I bet I’m overthinking this- it’s totally fine,” you took a deep breath, “I’m gonna go back to work and just focus on doing my job. I’ll be home at normal time. Okay? I love you”. Bucky told you he loved you more- just as he always did- and hung up against his better judgement. The gnawing feeling in his gut refused to relax, the sharp anxiety eating him alive for the remainder of the afternoon. He knew he wouldn’t feel better until you returned home safely that evening, and he assured himself you’d do just that.

But he was wrong.

Usually, you arrived home at 6:00 every evening, almost to the second. Traffic sometimes slowed you down, but nothing ever prevented you from returning past 6:15. But 6:00 came and went, followed by 6:15. Bucky told himself not to call you, but as 6:30 crept closer, he reached for his phone. Just as he moved to dial your number, an unfamiliar number illuminated his screen. 

“Um, hello?”

“Hey, hi- is this Bucky?” an unfamiliar voice asked. Bucky confirmed that he was , indeed, Bucky Barnes, much to the stranger’s relief. “Oh, good. Okay. Hi, I’m Jodi, I work at the gym with your girlfriend. You’re listed as her emergency contact, and-”

Bucky’s heart leapt into his throat, “what happened?” He abandoned the dishes he’d been doing and found his boots, slipping them on while your coworker gave him the details. “I’m not sure if you know about the man who’s been giving her trouble?”

“What did he do?”

“He was waiting for her in the parking lot when she tried to leave… another employee found her as the guy got away. We called 911 and they’re coming-”

“Is she okay?”

Jodi’s voice shook ever so slightly, “um, she’s bleeding. Kinda coming in and out of consciousness…”

Bucky snatched his keys from the kitchen counter and made a dash for the front door, anxiety and dread throwing him into overdrive. “I’ll be there in ten minutes, tell her that I-”

“The ambulance just got here. Don’t come here or you’ll have missed them completely, just meet her at the hospital- I’ll text you which one”.

“Fine, just- just tell her I’m coming okay? Tell her I’ll be there.” 

Your coworker gave a quick ‘okay’ before the line went dead.

Bucky knew almost nothing about your condition. All he knew was that you were hurt, and he needed to get to you as soon as he possibly could. The text from Jodi said you were being taken to a hospital almost half an hour from the apartment, but Bucky turned it into a fifteen-minute sprint.  Once inside, he rushed his way to the reception desk looking like a mad man, his eyes wide with fear. 

“Hey- hi. I need to find my girlfriend- she was brought in by ambulance. I need to see her-” The nurse behind the desk asked for your name and typed it into the computer- much slower than Bucky would’ve liked. The out-of-date system took its sweet time locating your information, and Bucky found himself almost coming apart at the seams. After what seemed like an eternity, your name popped up on the screen. 

“Okay, it says here…she’s been checked in”, the nurse looked up at Bucky, a polite smile on her face. He stared at her expectantly, waiting for insight on your condition or which treatment room they’d assigned you, but received nothing of the sort. 

“Okay- where is she? Is she okay?” Bucky blurted out after a long moment. But the nurse could answer neither of his questions. 

“It says here that she was attacked by her stalker. How do I know you’re not the man who hurt her?” the nursed eyed him up at down, suspicion pulling her brows together. While grateful that this woman wanted to keep you safe, Bucky knew he was about to lose his mind. He ripped his phone from his pocket and pulled up your Instagram, nearly shoving it in the woman’s face. “We’re together, I swear. Look-” he pulled up a picture from just a few days earlier, “See? That’s her. That’s me. Okay?” The nurse narrowed her eyes at him once again, taking in the desperation in his voice and the slight shaking of his hand. 

She grabbed the desk phone and made a quick call, speaking in a low voice that even Bucky couldn’t make out. 

“Alright- you’re good. Room 16- go through those doors and to the left”. Bucky silently thanked whoever had given him the green light and frantically pushed through the double doors. A sense of relief flooded his body as he made his way toward your room, but sheer dread weighed him down just as he reached your door. He wasn’t sure what condition you were in, but knew without asking that this experience had traumatized you. He knew he needed to be there for you, to be your strong shoulder to cry on, to make you feel safe and protected- but emotion threatened to barrel through him.

He barely kept it together as he pulled on the door handle and entered your room. Tears stung his eyes and blurred his vision, but he swiped them away with his sleeve. He couldn’t let you see him upset, not when he knew you needed him. He hated seeing you in a hospital bed connected to IVs and beeping monitors. You looked so small- so fragile as you lay there before him. He immediately took note of the large wound on your forehead that a doctor had carefully stitched closed, as well as the dried blood that colored your hair and skin a sickly red. A large scrape adorned your cheek, no doubt from the rough surface of the parking lot. Light purple clouded around it, forming a bruise that Bucky knew would darken by the hour. A split lip rounded out the injuries to your face- the same face Bucky saw in a crowded coffee shop one-year earlier, changing his life forever. 

But the bruises around your throat were what gutted him. Evidence of a large hand wrapping around your windpipe and constricting your airway left him breathless. The purples and blues colored your skin, painting a picture of what you’d endured. Bucky quietly pulled up a chair and sat next to your bed, taking one of your scraped hands in his. He held it carefully, almost as if you were made of glass, and waited for you to open your eyes. 

He sat next to you for what felt like forever until a quiet groan slipped from your lips. “Baby…hey”, he stood from his chair and opted to take a seat on the edge of you bed, desperate to be as close to you as possible. He watched you blink a few times in an attempt to orient yourself in the strange space, but you came up empty. 

“Ew, my mouth tastes like pennies-” you muttered, your voice hoarse. A sudden realization hit you like a truck- the taste was blood. “What, um…what’s going on?” A sharp pain set your throat alight as you spoke, prompting Bucky to reach for the water on your side table. He handed it carefully over to you and watched you take a few sips, wincing every time you swallowed. 

“Okay, um…” Bucky didn’t know what to say. He replaced your water and took your hands in his, selecting his words carefully. “You were at work, sweetheart. And when you left, the guy who- the one who’s been following you, he…” Bucky let loose a deep sigh, “he was waiting for you, baby. He attacked you.” Bucky watched horror slowly seep into your empty expression. All grogginess left your body as memories of your harrowing experience flooded back one right after another. His unsettling voice, his dead eyes. The way he threw you against your car, your spine aching as it made contact with the metal. His hand around your throat, your lungs burning with need for oxygen. The hard concrete smashing against your skull. And then- darkness. Nothing.

Your hands wound around Bucky’s arm, your grip growing tighter as your heartrate climbed. The loud beeps of your heart monitor grew ever closer together, alerting Bucky to your mounting panic. “Hey, hey- you’re okay. You’re safe.” Bucky tried to get you to calm down, but couldn’t ease the sharp, shallow breaths that took hold of you. The sound of your heart monitor alerted your nurse and she burst through the door, a syringe full of sedative in hand. 

“You’re alright- I’m just gonna give you this, okay? It’s gonna help you calm down and you’re gonna go to sleep-”

“No, no, no. Please. Please don’t-” you shrunk into your pillow and dropped your face into your hands, hoping to disappear completely. “I can’t- I don’t want to sleep. Please don’t-” you begged, but the nurse was adamant. She made a beeline for your IV with every intention of sedating you, but Bucky threw her a warning glance. The softness he wore around you vanished completely as his eyes burned through her, flames of rage smoldering behind his icy blue irises. 

“She doesn’t want it- it’s only going to make things worse”, he nearly growled, “just let me handle it”. Bucky knew scaring a nurse would probably send him to hell, but he figured he was already going- so he didn’t worry.

She exited the room with a distinct “hmph” and left Bucky to help you through your panic attack. He took your concrete-scraped hands gently in his, “baby, you’re okay. Look at me, focus right here. alright?” He pulled your concentration slowly from the deep uneasiness steadily rising in your chest and placed it on his kind eyes, easing your breathing to a normal pace. Something about Bucky had a calming effect on you; he was your safe harbor during even the roughest of storms.

“Thank you,” Your raspy voice croaked, “I don’t want to be sedated- I don’t feel comfortable going to sleep…” Bucky knew the feeling all too well, but unlike him, your fears didn’t stem from old memories that could no longer hurt you- your attacker was still out there. 

“I just feel like he’s gonna- what if he comes here?” The mere thought of your stalker showing up at the hospital awoke a visceral fear inside you. Bucky noted the uptick in your heart monitor and launched into assurances, hoping to stave off your impending panic attack.

“He won’t. The nurse at the front desk barely let me back here. The staff knows what’s going on,” he assured you, but dread still filled your chest. “I have agents on the way here to stand guard outside your room- no one’s getting in here. And his information was readily available in your gym’s computer- I wouldn’t be surprised if the cops already showed up at his house”. Bucky searched your face for relief or maybe even a glimpse of a smile, but you weren’t convinced.

“And I’m gonna be right here. Okay? I’m not going anywhere,” he gently took your face in his hands and pressed a cautious kiss to your injured forehead. “I know how you feel- I’ve been there. I know you don’t want to go to sleep. But you’ve been through a lot today. You need to rest.” You eyed him with furrowed brows, your lower lip suddenly disappearing between your teeth. It was a nervous habit Bucky learned to recognize early in your relationship, and he kicked himself in the moment for not cautioning you against it.

“Ow- what the fuck?” you groaned as you recognized the warm, coppery taste of blood in your mouth. “It’s the split lip, baby. You gotta be careful”, he reached for a clean gauze pad and gently dabbed it against your lip, catching the blood before it could drip down your chin. It was obvious to him as he stared down at you that exhaustion had you in a stranglehold. The usual brightness in your eyes was nowhere to be found, and moving even a fraction of an inch took more effort than it should’ve. 

“You can go to sleep, sweets. Get some rest, okay?” He stepped away from your bed to throw away your bloody gauze, but stopped in his tracks when he felt your hands secure around his arm.

“Don’t,” you begged, “please don’t leave”.

“Woah, it’s alright. I’m not leaving- I was just throwing this out,” he reclaimed his spot at your bedside, “I’m not going anywhere, I promise”. For the first time since you’d woken up, your cheeks took on a tinge of color. The pink hue of embarrassment colored your skin as you apologized for latching on to Bucky so fiercely, but he wouldn’t hear of it. 

“You don’t have to be sorry- you can be scared, doll. I know you’re scared. But I’m staying right here. And I’m not letting you go back there till they find this guy”.

After a long moment, you gave Bucky a small nod. “Okay, yeah, I’ll- I’ll sleep. I’d just…” you fidgeted with your hands for a moment, “I’d just feel better if you laid with me”. Bucky stared at the small hospital bed and wondered how his hulking frame would fit on such a small mattress in general, let alone with another person. But he couldn’t say no to you. 

“Of course, baby. Here, let me just,” he pulled off his boots and climbed into bed with you, careful not to pull on any of your IVs. His body curled around yours protectively, shielding you from anything or anyone who dared threaten you. “Is this comfortable?” he stared down at you, watching you nuzzle into his side. 

“Very…” you breathed as exhaustion took over, “this is much better”. Just seconds before you succumbed to sleep, your eyes flew open. Bucky caught your nervous glance toward the door and took your chin gently between his fingers, angling your face toward his. “Look at me, doll. It’s okay. You’re safe, you can sleep. I’m here- I’ll always be here."

——————————

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[jinxedruby]

Febuwhump Day Ten: Killing in self defense

Featuring Four and Legend.

Well, my streak has finally broken. I've already made it way farther than I thought I would though, and way more than I usually get when doing Inktober, so there's that haha. (And I skipped day nine, that's why it's not here lol)

Heads up for aftermath of some pretty major violence in this one.

AO3

First part | <- Previous part | Next part -> (skipped a day again, didn't link the wrong one I swear lol)

-------------------------------

Something cold seeped through the front of Four’s tunic, plastering the fabric to his stomach and chest. He blinked once, twice, focused on the droplets of water hitting his face and trailing down his cheek. His neck hurt fiercely, a burning ache thrumming through it with each pump of his heart. His hands felt lukewarm, something tacky on them, slowly being washed away with the rain. He blinked again, dragged in a haggard gasp that exhaled as a choked sob.

“Smithy!”

He lifted his head at the cry, skull pounding horribly. A blur of red and brown stood before and he blinked one more time, attempting to clear the raindrops from his eyelashes. Legend stumbled toward him, sword held loosely in his left hand, shield nowhere to be seen. He dropped to his knees in front of Four on the wet cobblestone, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“Smithy, are you okay? Where’d he-“ He glanced around as he spoke, eyes freezing on something to Four’s right. His eyes went round, breath stuttering in his throat. Four didn’t want to look. His gut twisted, head pounding harder. His gaze flicked to the side before he could stop it.

A body lay just beside him, crumpled and facing away from him. That didn’t stop him from being able to see the blood pooling beneath the head. How the ear folded in at an odd angle, hair clumped inwards where the skull caved.

“-at me, Smithy, Link, Link!”

Two hands grabbed his face and wrenched his head away from the sight, forcing him to face Legend’s wide eyes.

“I’m getting us out of here,” Legend said, each word steady and deliberate. He took one hand off Four’s face to grab his hand, holding it up and squeezing tightly. “Just hold on and keep looking at me, okay? Just focus on me.”

Four nodded jerkily, struggling to reign in his breathing as it picked up, heart slamming frantically against his ribs like it was trying to break free. Legend nodded before standing, pulling Four up as well. Four’s legs shook violently beneath him, muscles taught and trembling. His eyes darted to the right again before he could stop them. His breath hitched before Legend jumped into his line of sight, squeezing his hand in a death grip.

“Eyes on me, Link, you’re gonna be fine,” Legend said, glancing around. A muscle tensed in his jaw, cheek moving like he was grinding his teeth. Then he tugged on Four’s hand, guiding him out of the alley.

Water sloshed under Four’s and Legend’s soles as they walked, the noise drowned out by the little rivers of rain racing through the grooves of the cobblestones. Four stared downwards, watching his boots snap forward with each step. He stepped into a place where the road dipped slightly, large ripples cascading outwards from his foot. Dip in the road like the dip in the man’s head after Four-

He ripped his gaze back up, staring at Legend’s soaked blue hat, focused on how it trailed along his back as he kept his head on a swivel. Legend twisted his head around further to glance at Four, eyes still wide. When he met Four’s gaze, he gave the smith’s hand another squeeze. Legend’s hand felt cold, pressing against Four’s palm. Something lukewarm trailed down the blade of Four’s hand and he looked before he could stop himself.

A droplet of viscous blood, swirling with water, traveled down his hand. His other hand swung into view as he walked, revealing the tacky fluid coating his fingers and splattered all the way up his forearm. He knew speckles of blood resided on his face as well. He’d felt it hit when-

“Almost out, Smithy, just focus on me,” Legend said, voice pulling Four’s gaze away from his hands. They came to the mouth of the alley, Legend’s hat whipping back and forth as he quickly looked each way. After a moment, he hurried forward again, tugging Four along with him. The streets stood barren, no one wanting to be out in the downpour. It wasn’t quite a storm, but the rain fell in fat, heavy drops, pattering onto Four’s hair and shoulders, running down his face in little rivulets. He dazedly wondered how it made the blood on his face look, if it dragged it down across his skin like tears, painting red lines. He wondered how it mingled with that man’s blood, pooled in his skull and under his head. Wondered if it washed the rock clean-

Legend turned down a street, Four stumbling along at the abrupt change in direction. Legend cast a glance back at him, eyes just as round as before.

“Almost there,” he said.

Four felt himself nodding. They turned down a few more streets, the rain never letting up. The toe of Four’s boot caught on the edge of a cobblestone and he tripped, pitching forward. Legend gasped, twisting and barely managing to catch Four before he fell, wrapping an arm around his middle. Four remained sagged against Legend’s arm, legs shaking so violently he wasn’t sure they would hold his weight anymore.

“V-vet,” he whispered, voice nearly lost in the rain. “Wh-what did- what did I-“

“Later, later,” Legend said in a shaky tone. He pushed Four upright again, keeping his hands on the smith’s shoulders for a moment. “Process it later, we’re not safe yet.”

Four drew in a hitched breath. He barely managed to suppress the deranged sob that tried to follow the exhale. Legend started moving again, Four staggering along with him. They turned another corner and Legend let out a sound halfway between a laugh and a cry, picking up speed. Four leaned around him to see the warm lights of the inn they and the others were staying at. Legend hurried up the steps, shouldered open the door, and pulled Four inside. Warmth enveloped them and Four shivered at the temperature change, not having realized how much the rain had chilled him. Being so late in the night, the lobby and reception stood empty. Legend led Four past the lobby and down the hall, arriving in the kitchen. He gently pushed Four down into a chair before kneeling in front of him, still gripping Four’s hand.

“I’m gonna get you something dry to wear,” Legend said when Four met his gaze. “Stay right here, okay? I’ll be right back.”

He waited until Four nodded before releasing his hand and hurrying away toward the stairs leading to their rented rooms. A shiver wracked through Four’s body, the hairs on his forearms standing on end, glistening with water droplets. The rain had soaked all the way through his clothes, the fabric stuck to the skin of his midsection peeling away and re-adhering with each breath. He heard thumping from upstairs as Legend ran around. He wondered if the others were awake, if Legend woke them up, deliberately or not. In the minute it took Legend to find dry clothes, the events of that night ran through Four’s head again.

He lurched to his feet, sprinted out to the inn’s back deck, and vomited over the railing.

Footsteps pounded on the stone behind him as he gasped for breath, throat burning. His head spun with memories. The men, the fight, the strangling, the rock, the bits of bone. He let out a strangled cry, leaning over the railing and screwing his eyes shut as he tried not to throw up again.

“Hey, hey, Smithy, you’re okay, it’s okay,” Legend said from behind him, placing a cool, firm hand on Four’s shoulder.

“Why did I- why did-“ Four gasped as his eyes stung.

“You had to, Smith, so did- so did I,” Legend said, only a slight tremble in his voice. “They were going to kill us or- or worse. Probably worse, alright? You had to.”

“N-no, no, not that,” Four managed, shaking his head, strands of blond hair sticking to his face. “I know that, I know- wh-why did… why like- like that? Why did I…” Bash his head in.

Legend didn’t respond and Four turned to see him staring with his lips pursed, still wearing the same wide-eyed expression as before. Something else pinched his expression. It drew his eyebrows together, pulled at the corners of his mouth, made his lips tremble.

“Sometimes you can’t help how it happens,” he said quietly. His eyes grew unfocused, staring at some invisible point far behind Four. “Sometimes…”

He blinked a couple times, gaze sharpening again. “Sometimes you just have to keep going.”

He took a step back and gestured to the door leading into the inn. Four leaned against the railing a moment longer, looking slowly between Legend and the door, warm light spilling out onto the deck. He could see a bundle of dry clothes on the counter, hastily left there when Legend had come outside after him. He looked back to Legend, the teen hardly older than he was, his face having finally settled from the wide-eyed look into a world-weary gaze. And Four realized that Legend had experienced something almost exactly like this before.

Four exhaled slowly and pushed himself away from the railing with shaking arms. Legend placed a steadying hand on his shoulder as he took dragging steps forward. Then, together, they walked back into the inn.

#linked universe #linked universe fic #linked universe fanfic #ruby writes #febuwhump #febuwhump2024 #lu four #lu legend #tw dead body

[vittoriaisfuckingpathetic]

take my hand (don't fear the reaper) chapter II

rated M | read it on ao3 | prev chapter | next chapter

John reflects on his tumultuous relationship with Dutch, his interpersonal relationships, and fatherhood in general leading up to the final train robbery.

The morning everything fell apart, the atmosphere in camp was tense. 

Of course, this was no different than it had been the gang’s entire stay at Beaver Hollow. Everyone was uncomfortable, and moreover, everyone was greatly aware of how dire the situation was. 

The gang was fracturing into pieces; they all knew it, but nobody dared to say a word — leaving things to be, put simply, dicey.

Dutch always kept himself situated at his tent by the mouth of the cave. Always watching. Always paranoid. 

“What’re you doin’, Johnny boy?” 

“Went for a piss, now I’m gettin’ a smoke,” John replied defensively. He had always prickled against being questioned, but especially by Dutch (even moreso as of late). “That okay?” he snarked, unable to keep the sarcasm out of his voice.

“It’s quite late,” Dutch replied, sounding almost bored. Making John wonder what the man’s angle was.

“And yet here you are awake, too,” John replied venemously. Dutch rarely slept, especially when he’d go through one of his ‘phases’, as Hosea had once called it. There were periods when Dutch would be very high-energy, coming up with wild (even by Dutch’s usual standard), unrealistic ideas, and sleeping even less than usual. 

The elder man clicked his tongue. “Enough of the attitude, John. I raised you better than that.” Even after all of these years, Dutch could still make him squirm with just a look.

“There somethin’ you needin’ from me?” John asked, knowing fully well that there was no such thing as having a civil conversation with Dutch. Not anymore, anyway. It was easier to just get it over with than play along with the man’s inane mind games.

“Not at all. Have a good night,” Dutch smiled affably. “...After all, I’m sure you need to get back to conspiring against me with Abigail ‘n Arthur,” he added, his voice unnervingly calm. “You know, if you needed a smoke, you could’ve just asked me. I always have a pack somewhere in my tent.” 

John swallowed, his mouth suddenly feeling extremely dry. “I… I wasn’t—” he wasn’t even aware Dutch had seen them talking. Or had been close enough to hear some of their conversation. How much had he heard? Had Dutch even heard any of it, or had he just seen him smoking?

Fuck.

Dutch had simply chuckled humorlessly. “You’re still a terrible liar, John. Thought I raised you better than that, too.” 

John had barely slept a wink all night. When he had gotten back to the tent, he laid on the bedroll (not wanting to wake up Abigail and Jack, who looked perfectly cozy on his cot) and stared at the tent’s ceiling for hours. 

What felt like almost as soon as he had fallen asleep, Jack was in John’s face, having sat himself on his father’s chest, prattling on excitedly.

The four-year-old was clearly more energetic than his lethargic parents had been in years. “G’morning, Pa! Why’d you sleep on the floor? I was actually on the floor, but then I got cold. When did you get on the floor?” Jack spoke at a rapid-fire pace that John’s tired brain could hardly keep up with.

It wasn’t Jack’s fault. John had never been a morning person.

“I… just give me a second, okay? And try to be a little quieter or you’ll wake your ma.” 

“Don’t bother. I’m already up,” Abigail sighed, swinging her legs over the cot. 

The family got dressed in silence, the tent feeling so much smaller with three people up and about, getting ready for their day. 

And yet, something about the sheer normalcy of it, of behaving like a normal family, was comforting. The only peace John got during the day were these quiet moments just as the sun was bathing the Earth in a golden glow.

“Can I go bring my drawing over to Aunt Tilly?” Jack asked urgently, practically dancing in place as he awaited an answer. The boy had scribbled something for Tilly the prior evening, but he’d been too tuckered out by the time he finished to deliver it. 

Hence his urgency that morning. A part of John was almost envious in a way — he wished his biggest problems were about paper. 

“Sure,” John answered at the same time Abigail replied, “Only if you put your shoes on first,”

The little boy shoved his feet into his boots, not bothering to ask for help tying his shoes. The laces went ignored as Jack raced outside. He left one of the flaps open, morning sunshine pouring inside the tent.

Abigail was quiet for a moment, observing John. 

“Hey,” Abigail greeted, placing her palm on his back.

“Hey,” he parroted back after making sure his suspender button was secured to his pants. Now officially dressed and ready to face whatever shitshow would greet him outside the tent.

“You okay?” she questioned.

John merely shrugged in response, uncertain as to how to answer.

“Somethin’ happen last night?” She asked, astute as ever. 

“Sort of. Dutch was bein’ creepy. Think he’s onto us.”

“Creepy how?” Abigail pressed.

“I don’t— I dunno.” He shrugged again, having difficulty finding the right words. “He was threatenin’ me, I think. I guess. I dunno.”

“Well, what did he say?” 

“I— he basically said what I just told you.” 

She crossed her arms, “Why’re you bein’ like this?”

“I ain’t ‘being like’ anythin’.” He responded somewhat defensively. 

“ Fine .” She huffed, turning on her heel. 

“I— Abi, wait, come back,” He grabbed her by the wrist, a risky move (one that could’ve easily gotten him slapped). “I weren’t tryin’ to be short with you, I just…” he sighed.

She raised an eyebrow, silently urging him to continue. 

“You know I ain’t no good with words. ‘Specially when I feel like…” he trailed off, gesturing helplessly with his free hand. It was difficult for him to verbalize his feelings, and it had always been like that. It was easier to internalize those negative thoughts and emotions than open up.

It was Abigail’s turn to sigh and nod. “Okay. Okay. Is this somethin’ that’s needin’ to be dealt with now? Do we have to move up our plans?” She asked, leaving out most details in case of prying ears nearby.

“I don’t know if it changes anythin’. Dutch has been treatin’ us all suspicious-like ever since Shady Belle.” 

Abigail pursed her lips. “Maybe, but it feels more… pressin’, now.”

“Agreed. Look, I’ll talk to Arthur 'n see if he has any ideas.” It was the only solution he really had, even though he knew he should have some sort of plan B in place. Hell, plan A was barely set in stone.

Abigail looked as though she was about to say something else, but she stopped herself. Shook her head as if to clear her thoughts. “Listen, I’m gonna go get some coffee… maybe you could go talk to Jack? See how he’s doin’? He was cryin’ the other day and he didn’t know why.”

John nodded. “I’ll… I’ll see what I can do. Dunno if he’ll wanna open up to me,” he replied self-deprecatingly.

“You won’t know if you don’t try,” Abigail responded. She let go of his hand and left the tent, giving him one last look.

It was different than the usual looks she threw at him. Softer.

After a somewhat unsatisfying breakfast of canned beans, the first thing John was greeted with upon leaving his tent was Miss Grimshaw. Her voice was a little too loud for that time in the morning. “Mister Marston!” 

“Mornin’, Miss Grimshaw,” John greeted, tipping the brim of his hat.

“Did you know Mister Pearson up and left?” Susan asked, incredulous.

“I did not.” John lied, avoiding her shrewd gaze, fully aware she could see right through him. She always had been able to sniff out when he was lying.

“ And, do you know what he told me? He told me I should get out, too, and ‘save myself’.” she said, using air quotes. 

He hummed, unsure what exactly to say in response. He didn’t want to oust himself as being the one who saw Pearson off and made no attempt to stop him. 

“Well,” he finally said, outstretching his arms. “I can’t say I’m too surprised. Folk been cuttin’ and runnin’ left and right.” John was careful to keep his stance diplomatic, trying to gauge Susan’s reaction. 

Grimshaw crossed her arms. “I don’t understand it,”

“Yeah,” John replied somewhat uncomfortably. It seemed to effectively kill the conversation, and Susan walked away. 

He sighed for what felt like the millionth time that day, and decided to finally find Jack.

“How are you, Jack?” John asked, sitting next to him.

“Fine,” the little boy answered breezily, continuing to play with his toy horse. “D’you wanna play with me? You gotta pretend this rock is another horse, ‘kay?” Jack chattered excitedly, placing said rock in John’s palm.

John examined the stone in his palm with a furrowed brow. He didn’t quite understand how it was supposed to be a horse or look horse shaped in any remote way, but he supposed he just didn’t have the level of imagination that his four-year-old had. 

Then again, John had never been particularly imaginative. He never quite had the freedom to just play when he was little. 

“Just fine? You don’t want to… talk about anything?”

“Like what?”

Slightly alarmed by his son’s seemingly remarkable ability to compartmentalize at such a young age, John tried to approach the subject gently. “I dunno. You’ve been through a lot lately.”

“D’you wanna talk about horses? When I grow up, I want one jus’ like Grandpa Hosea’s.” With his toy horse, he nudged John’s rock which was supposed to be another “horse”. “When’s he comin’ back?” 

It then occurred to John that he didn’t really know what Abigail had told the boy had happened with the botched bank robbery. After all, he’d been in prison. “I wish I knew, Jack. I wish I knew.” It was simpler than explaining the intricacies of death to a four-year-old, even if Jack had already been around far too much death. 

Perhaps it was more that John didn’t want to verbally acknowledge Hosea’s death. He’d seen it with his own eyes, had lived it, but it still didn’t feel real.

“I miss him,”

He sighed deeply. “Me too. I miss him a lot.” In an effort to not dwell on his own feelings that he hadn’t quite sorted regarding Hosea, he decided to change the subject. “So, how do you play?” 

“We’re playing horses, and they’re gonna race,” Jack explained as if it was clear as day.

John nodded, pretending to fully understand. “Right, and then what?”

Jack blinked at him. “What d’you mean? We’re s’posda race. It’s easy, you jus’ gotta pretend.” 

“But I gotta rock, and you got an actual horse. Rocks ain’t got legs.” 

Jack sighed dramatically. “You’re s’posed to pretend it’s a horse.”

He was either stupid, or slow, and he couldn’t decide which. “I know, but—”

Dutch interrupted John, stomping angrily toward the pair. “You think I don’t know what you’re sayin’ to people?!” 

“Jack, go find your ma,” John said, ushering the little boy in the direction of the tents. He sighed deeply. “What’re you hollerin’ at me for now, Dutch? Especially in front of my kid?” 

“Oh, please, don’t you start with that doting father act now. It ain’t foolin’ no one, especially me.” Dutch stepped closer. “I know you, John. I know what you are .” 

He tried to ignore the chill that went down his spine. “You’re talkin’ crazy again, Dutch. I just don’t know why we’re doin’ any of this.” 

“Why? Why ?” Dutch asked incredulously. “Because I say so! I am done explaining myself to you.” he turned his heel to leave, but almost as if being puffed up with a new air of anger, he stopped himself. “You wanna be the general? You don’t have the grit!” he screamed, spit flying from his mouth.

Did Dutch really have the nerve to call getting them all hunted down and killed grit ? Surely the man was missing a few screws. He stepped backward in an attempt to get more personal space. “Grit? That what you call this?” 

“How did the Pinkertons know about the bank job in Saint Denis, John? You wanna tell me that?!” Dutch demanded, his voice cracking as it did when he was well and truly angry. 

John had really been becoming tired of being accused of being the rat; especially when he had given Dutch nothing but (lately unearned) loyalty the last thirteen years of his life. It was past the point of hurting, instead, it just made him angry. From John’s perspective, Dutch was truly past the point of delusional. There was no use arguing back or screaming, the way Dutch was. 

“If you really think that, you are gone in the head.”

“I raised you as a son! You goddamn snake !” Dutch yelled, his words echoing throughout the camp. He stormed off to the mouth of the cave, still yelling nonsensically.

John tossed the rock he was still holding (for some reason) onto the ground with a scoff. Dutch and his delusions were getting more elaborate and dangerous as the days went on. 

He needed to get his family out, and fast.

The rest of the morning dragged on slowly. The simmering tension in the camp continued to build. 

John had been leaning against a tree for the better part of an hour, nursing a cigarette or two. He was still stewing from his earlier argument with Dutch. 

Besides, he needed time alone to think. If there was one good thing to be said about the overarching strain in the camp, it was the fact that people were keeping to themselves more. 

And in this case, it was good. John always processed his thoughts better when people weren’t pestering him. 

He took a slow, contemplative drag of his cigarette, hoping it would clear his mind. 

He turned his gaze to Dutch’s tent. The man was standing close to Micah, the two in deep conversation. 

It was always fucking Micah. Always in Dutch’s ear, making the man even more paranoid. 

His train of thought was interrupted by Arthur passing by.   

“How you holdin’ up?” John asked, even if he knew that there probably wasn't a comforting answer awaiting him.

“Been better,” Arthur said simply.

“We ain’t always seen eye-to-eye, you and me.” John started, opening the conversation up for more. There was so much he wanted to say to the man. 

“I guess I thought that… things always came too easy to you.” He shrugged. “But, here we are.”

“What are we going to do about this? About Dutch?”

Arthur sighed, shaking his head. “Maybe we can stop things from going too far.”

John glanced over his shoulder, where Micah, Joe, and Cleet sat at the table just outside of Dutch’s tent. “Still. Things’re gonna end bad.” he stated. It wasn’t a question of if, it was a statement of when. 

“They surely will,” Arthur answered, sounding resigned to that fate.

There was a pregnant pause where neither of them said a word. 

“You watch yourself.” John finally said, mentally scolding himself for not saying more. He walked away, unsure how to keep the conversation going with prying ears nearby.

“I’ll catch you later, then,” 

“Javier,” John greeted, sitting down at the campfire. The autumnal chill in the air was growing more apparent with every passing day. 

In response, Javier merely grunted, rolling his eyes.

“Why you acting like this? I thought we had to stick together?”

“Oh, I am. We are… loyalty. It’s you.” Javier sniffed. He’d been acting real odd ever since John had gotten back from Sisika, but John couldn’t figure out exactly why.

“Me? You saved me once… more than once.” he briefly faltered. “I’ve saved you… now what?”

“I’m sticking to my family,” Javier said as if it was so simple, and then he went back to sharpening his knife.

“These people ain’t your family… who are they?”

He holstered his knife. “You know what? You’re an arrogant son of a bitch, John.” 

“No.” John looked down, gaze focused on the campfire. Maybe Javier’s accusation was correct in the past, but not now. “I won’t let my child die because of Dutch… I can’t. This is gettin’ crazy, and you know it.”

Javier scoffed, getting up from his chair. “Get your head straight, John.” he spat. And that was that. John didn’t acknowledge anyone else when they came to sit down at the fire, preferring to stew in his own thoughts. 

It was ironic that he was sitting next to people he barely trusted anymore. Mere months ago, he would’ve trusted anyone in camp (sans Micah) with his life.

But now?

“We have work to do, my friends, let’s go. Come on, we are gonna borrow a little money from Old Uncle Sam…” Dutch had that crazed look in his eye yet again. “And be out of his hair, once and for all.”

He always said things like that. But he never meant them. Who was to say that the train job be any different?

Still, as the gang mounted up, John let himself foolishly hope. 

A little bit of hope couldn’t hurt, he supposed.

Abigail caught up to him just before he was about to get Old Boy moving. 

“John,” she said, coming up to the horse’s left side. “I…” She was worried, that much was clear, and he didn’t blame her.

He was worried, too. In fact, he couldn't recall a time in recent memory when he wasn't worried.

He reached down and grasped her hand, squeezing it gently. “It‘s one last job, Abigail. It’ll be easy. One more job and then I’m — then we’re done,” he wondered if his words sounded as empty to her as they did to him. 

There was always one more job. One more score. It was never truly over. 

“Do you really believe that?”

“...No,” He admitted with a shake of his head. “I’ll be back before you can say ‘spaghetti’.” 

Abigail let go of his hand reluctantly, saying nothing else. John spurred Old Boy up into a canter to catch up to the others.

a/n: i feel like this chapter might not be the best it can be but i was determined to get it out the day i posted it to ao3. i hope you guys understand and i promise i’ll be at the top of my game next update.

#red dead redemption fanfic #rdr fanfic #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #rdr #johnigail #john marston x abigail roberts #john marston #abigail roberts #arthur morgan #john marston fanfic #jack marston #rdr fanfiction #red dead redemption fanfiction #writers on tumblr #fanfiction #vittoria.doc #take my hand (don't fear the reaper)

[neutralspecial]

𝓘 𝓵𝓲𝓮𝓭 𝓪𝓰𝓪𝓲𝓷, 𝓱𝓮𝓻𝓮'𝓼 𝓪𝓷𝓸𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓻 𝓸𝓷𝓮.

DAE

Okay in my defense i made this one WAY before Maxo was created (which was like a couple days ago lol) I've only seen one take on Big in this vein and it wasn't really game specific so i wanted to try my hand at making an at least Unnerving EXE

Reads as such: " i dont think he's fatally malicious, just keeps

scaring the fuck out of players till they dont wanna play the game anymore the first time you see big's cameo is when it all sets into motion he keeps appearing as usual but then as time goes on he comes up in areas he shouldnt

like imagine loading into fuckin' pyramid cave and he's like- right there

like way too close to the screen but facing away from it 1000 times over you played that stage and he's Never Been There but after seeking out one big cameo it just starts gettin fucky like this. " He also starts to cameo and wander into cutscenes he has no business being in with the sole intention of getting closer to where the camera is angled from. Where does the name come from? The file extension that Dreamcast models use :)!

(what's that like, 4 technically 5 game spooksters i got now??? i gotta stop fr fr)

#EXE #Horrorbrew #SONIC.EXE

[sergeantsporks]

Merry Krampus

Rating: Gen, General Audiences

Summary: Christmas means monsters on the Boiling Isles, and while Luz is pretty sure there aren't any in the human realm, it couldn't hurt to let Hunter set up traps, right?

Hunter dumped an armload of rope into Luz’s arms. “Hold this please.”

Luz peered around the pile of rope as he strung part of it through a hook on the ceiling. “Heeeeeyyyyyyy, Hunter. Whatcha doing?”

“Putting up Krampus traps,” he replied gravely, “The lights your mom put up are a good start for keeping it away, but I wouldn’t trust your safety to them.”

Luz followed him through the house as he strung the rope along. “…And what’s a Krampus?”

“A beast type demon. It eats people. They’re absurdly good at getting past locks and normal defenses, so you need to put up extra defenses. Luckily, they’re only really around about the time of winter solstice. Don’t worry, I’ll rig some around your window upstairs in case it tries to get in that way, too.”

“Uh-huh. And, uh. Are they typically found in the human realm, or is that a demon realm thing, usually?”

Hunter rolled his eyes, creating a circle out of the rope. “Do you think I’m stupid, Luz? I checked to see if you had them in the human realm, too. I used the internet. And they’re here, too. Mostly in Europe, and supposedly they only attack children who misbehave, but I’m not leaving anything to chance.”

“I see.”

“Can’t believe your mom hasn’t ever told you about Krampus.”

“Mhm. I don’t think my mom knows about them.”

“Of course she does. Why else would she have put up all these lights? Krampus are photosensitive, like the owl beast. You can scare them off with bright lights. Or, sometimes, that draws them in because they know there are people there. Which is why I’m setting up more traps. Don’t worry, I used to be in charge of Krampus defenses in the emperor’s coven. If I could rig up the whole keep, your little house will be a cinch.”

There was a knock on the door, and Hunter angled his head towards it while he set up more rope loops, heading up the stairs. “That should be Amity. I asked her to help with the magic bit of these traps. No one more dedicated to your safety than she is!”

Luz shook her head, opening the door. “Hey, Amity!”

Amity smiled, clutching a box in her arms.  “I hear you need a Krampus trap?”

Luz laughed. “I mean, we’ve never had Krampus traps before, and we’ve always been alright. I guess the Christmas lights scare them off, huh?”

“Then you’ve been lucky. Krampus are no joke.”

“Yeah?”

Amity nodded. “The twins used to be triplets,” she said gravely.

Luz stared at her, her heart thumping in her chest.

But then Amity laughed. “I’m just kidding, Luz. No one’s been eaten by a Krampus in years. The traps are just a precaution. We used to have Krampus parties in the manor. Sure, they were all business affairs to boost relations, but it was the one time I got to stay up late. I’d always watch out the windows for the Krampus. Never saw one, of course.”

Hunter thumped back down the stairs, connecting his end of the rope to the beginning. “Krampus are no joke. They’re definitely not something to throw a party about.”

One of Amity’s eyebrows crept up. “And I suppose you’ve seen a Krampus?”

“Well… no. But some of the scouts had encounters! They reported them to me in great detail when I was ten. And thank goodness they did, so I’d be prepared.”

Amity and Luz glanced at each other, and Luz cleared her throat. “Are you sure they… weren’t just trying to scare you?”

“Ohhhh, okay. Sure. Laugh about the Krampus. But you will be grateful when you aren’t eaten tomorrow morning! Amity, are you going to do the enchantment, or not?”

“I’m on it, I’m on it.”

Amity held up her hands, coughing. “Ahem. Krampus present, Krampus past, Krampus hear me as I cast! Should Krampus step within a coil, Krampus plan my trap shall foil! Krampus future, Krampus past, defend against until your last!”

Her eyes sparked, and the rope glowed brightly, slowly fading into a dull shimmer. Hunter nodded.

“Good. What’s in the box?”

“Dad sent me with some abomination traps and tricks, just in case. You, uh. Don’t have to set them up, but I promised I’d bring them. I think he’s mostly trying to clear out leftover Blight Industries tech.”

Hunter took the box, exclaiming. “A sticky blaster! Excellent. Do you think it’ll hold a Krampus?”

“Can’t hurt, right? There’s always the flamethrower setting.”

“True!”

Hunter wandered off with the box, and Amity gave Luz a smile. “He’s in a good mood.”

“It’s that festive time of year! Spirits high! I think it helps that he has something to do.”

“You’re not really worried about a Krampus attack, are you?”

“Not really. But, hey, weirder things have happened. Are you coming for dinner tomorrow night?”

Amity gave her a peck on the cheek. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

Xxx

“Hunter, go to bed.”

Hunter shook his head, patrolling around the bottom floor. “One night of patrol never killed anyone. Don’t worry, I’ll take a nap tomorrow morning, be perfectly fine for dinner.”

Luz sighed, but trudged upstairs, stepping carefully over one of Hunter’s rope loops. “Good night.”

“It will be.”

Camila raised her eyebrow at Luz. “Awwww, is he keeping watch for Santa? Someone should probably tell him.”

“Nope. He’s looking out for the Krampus.”

“The what?”

“Don’t ask.”

Luz curled up in her bed with a sigh, snuggling into the blankets.

Only to be jolted up by a crash downstairs. She blinked at the clock—midnight?! Really?! – and tore downstairs, Vee on her heels.

“I got one!” Hunter crowed.

“Call off your attack dog, Luz!” a familiarly grouchy voice snapped.

Luz flipped on the light to see Eda, pinned by an abomination blast with Hunter sitting on her back. “…Hey, Eda.”

Hunter let out a disgusted sigh and got up, peeling the abomination goop away and shoving it back into the blaster. “You’re not a Krampus.”

“How astute,” Eda remarked dryly, dusting herself off, “You’re getting coal for Christmas.”

“What? What does that have to do with anything? What are you doing here so late?! Or early?”

Vee glanced at the clock on the microwave. “Dinner doesn’t start for… a while.”

Eda scooped up a big sack, plopping a hat on her head.

“You’re Santa!” Luz burst out.

“Merry Christmas, kiddo. Thought I’d do a little breaking and entering on this fine morning. At least until Goldilocks went awol on me.”

Hunter stared at her blankly. “She’s what.”

“Santa Claus! Oh, come on, how do you know about the Krampus, but not Santa Claus?! Delivers toys in the night to good kids?”

Hunter scoffed. “Now you’re just making things up.”

“Mrgh…”

“Ah-ah!” Eda swung the bag around. “No fighting, or you’re getting coal!”

Hunter shook his head. “What is this coal business? Are you planning to burn the house down?”

“Ha! No. I come bearing gifts. Not until Christmas, though.”

“It is Christmas, Eda. It’s past midnight.”

“Oh? Well, then, present time it is. Or maybe I feed you to my reindeer for seeing me? Never been completely clear on that part of the holiday. Krampus celebrations are a lot simpler. Hooray, we didn’t get eaten by a Krampus! Let’s celebrate!”

“Luz? Mija?” Camila wandered into the room, rubbing her eyes. “What’s… Eda? What are you doing here? Not… that it isn’t good to see you.”

“Thought I’d play Santa. Leave some gifts out. Put up some defenses against Krampus. But I got pinned down by trigger happy over here.”

“I’ve got Krampus defenses up,” Hunter said proudly.

“You certainly do. Anyway, I planned to be in and out, but I guess everyone’s up now.” Eda shook her bag. “I brought gifts!”

“Can we?” Luz begged.

“Ah, alright. Sure.” Camila settled on the couch with a smile. “You used to wake me up at ungodly hours to see what ‘Santa’ brought when you were younger. Looks like nothing’s changed, huh?”

Luz grabbed Hunter and Vee’s arms, dragging them down to the floor with her. “A couple of things changed.”

Eda grinned, digging through the bag. “Let’s see… oh, Luz, come take this one out?”

Luz reached into the bag, and King popped out, launching himself into her. “I’m the present! Hahahaha!”

Luz laughed, catching him in a hug. “Best present ever!”

“Some help you were when I was getting attacked,” Eda snorted. “All right, alright. Here we go. Nerd.” She tossed a package to Hunter. “Snake.” Another to Vee. “Mother of Apprentice.” She handed one to Camila. “Aaaaaaaand the most powerful witch in the human realm, barring when I visit.” She handed Luz a package that folded over in her hands.

Hunter made a squeaky noise. “Is this the original manuscript of A Study in Wild Magic?! Where did you get this?!”

“Stole it off the author.”

“I—” Hunter bit his lip. “Yes. Thank you. I will cherish it always.”

Luz leaned in towards him as Eda turned her attention on Vee. “You’re going to return it to them, aren’t you.”

“I’m going to ask them if I can keep it,” Hunter hissed, “And maybe get it signed.”

Vee opened hers. “…Snake oil?”

“No one wants an unoiled snake!” Eda chuckled. “It’s like lotion for scaley creatures. This particular one has magic infused through it, so it should replenish your magic supply as well as helping any dry spots.”

Camila opened hers. “Best Mom in 2 Realms,” she read off of the T-shirt. “Aw, Eda, that’s… sweet.”

“It has witches’ wool woven into it!” King piped up, “That way, if someone’s spell goes rogue, it’ll protect you!”

“All witch mamas need one!” Eda agreed. “Speaking of the witch in question… Luz?”

Hunter fidgeted next to Luz, turning the book over in his hands. Luz opened the package, shaking out a full purple cloak, just like her old one. Except that this one had little embroidered glyphs along the hem (although with a small gap in the circle, presumedly so that they couldn’t be set off, and small pockets lining the inside). “Oh, Eeeeedaaaaa! It’s beautiful!”

“I did the knitting. Hunter and Darius did the glyphs at the bottom. For all your adventuring needs.”

Luz gave Hunter’s shoulders a squeeze, and half-tackled Eda. “I love it! I—”

A low growl sounded, and Hunter froze. “Eda… did you close the door behind you?”

“What? Ah, I was only supposed to be here a few minutes, I must have left it—”

“Down!” Hunter yelped, tackling Camila down onto the cushions of the couch as a half-goat, half-man creature leapt over it.

Luz swung her new cloak onto her shoulders, diving to the side and summoning her palisman. “What is that?!”

Hunter tugged Camila and Vee around behind the couch, his head poking up over the edge. “A Krampus!” he crowed, “I told you! Toss me King!”

Luz picked the little titan up and threw him to Hunter, who tucked him safely behind the couch.

“HEY!” King complained.

Luz dove out of the way as the Krampus lunged for her. “Whoop!” She warped around to the side, sending a blast of magic towards it.  It roared, lunging again.

“HEY!”

Vee’s bottle of snake oil bounced off of the Krampus’ head, and it whirled around with a snarl. Hunter waved his arms, skipping backwards over one of his rope loops. The Krampus surged forward, then stopped, examining the rope circle.

“Uh-oh,” Hunter said in a small voice.

Luz warped forward, turning the ground beneath the Krampus to ice and shoving it. It slid with a yip, right into the rope circle. Golden light flared up, forming a shimmering prison around the Krampus. The creature bellowed, but none of the sound escaped the barrier, and even though it struggled, it couldn’t escape its prison.

Hunter came around the edge of the trap. “It worked!”

“Thank you, Amity,” Luz sighed, “Wait, ‘it worked’?!”

Hunter rolled a hand. “Not that I didn’t trust Amity’s magic.”

Vee looped a garland around the edge of the glowing circle. “Festive!”

Camila came out from behind the couch, gently bouncing King in her arms. “That’s a Krampus, huh?”

“That’s a Krampus,” Hunter confirmed.

“Ay. Thank you for the traps, sweetheart. And Luz, that was good thinking with the ice.”

Hunter flushed a messy red and mumbled a ‘you’re welcome,’ scooping up Vee’s snake oil and presenting it to her.

“Wouldn’t be a Krampus celebration without a Krampus!” Eda remarked cheerfully, “Good job, kiddo! He’s a big one. Hah. I bet Lili and Hooty didn’t catch one nearly as big.”

Hunter muttered something about “crazy Clawthorne traditions,” but settled on the couch, his eyes finally starting to droop shut. Luz shattered the ice with her staff. Tiny crystals flew in a spray of glitter, dancing in the light of the Krampus trap. King ‘ooo’ed appreciatively, wiggling out of Camila’s arms and swiping his claws through the cloud.

Luz heaved a content sigh, wrapping one arm around her mother and another around Eda, watching King jump into the cloud. “Merry Krampus to all,” she quipped, leaning her head on her mother’s shoulder.

Camila kissed the top of her head. “Merry Krampus, baby.”

“Can we—”

“I’m not feeding that thing Christmas dinner.”

“What about cookies?”

“It’s not Santa.”

Eda perked up. “I’m hearing that Santa gets cookies?”

“Only if ‘Santa’ takes her mythical beast back to the demon realm with her and closes the door so that no more get through.”

“Oh, they usually travel in twos. The other one’s probably loose in the neighborhood already.”

Vee glanced at the couch, where Hunter was fast asleep. “…No one tell Hunter?”

Camila gave Luz’s shoulders a squeeze, and then let go. “I’ll go get the bat.”

#toh #the owl house #toh fanfiction #christmas #hunter noceda #luz noceda #camila noceda #king clawthorne #eda clawthorne

[theanticool]

Turns out Naoya Inoue is actually just that damn good.

Inoue took apart Fulton over the course of 8 rounds. The generous read was the fight was 6-1 Inoue heading into the 8th. But it was all Inoue.The jab was accurate, damaging, and disruptive. It set the tone all night as he used an up-jab to break through the guard of Fulton. It was thudding. And it forced Fulton to either reset or back out of exchanges, giving Inoue a runway to follow up. When Fulton did try to jab with Inoue, Inoue did an amazing job of getting the inside angle and basically letting Fulton leap into a stiff short jab. It was great. But the thing that really stole this fight for Inoue was the body jab. From basically the 2nd round on, Inoue was landing that jab at will. Fulton didn’t offer much resistance. He attempted to counter the body jab once with a chopping right hand but Inoue immediately countered by hooking off the body jab. Extremely beautiful stuff. I think Inoue landed something like 20 body jabs over the course of the first 7 rounds. The killing blow was set up by a jab to the gut that forces Fulton to drop the lead hand. That provided the hole for the right hand to finally land flush on Fulton. It completely rocked him. He tried to stay up (both gloves seemed to have touched the ground) as he ran to the corner but Inoue followed it and landed a sweeping left hook that floored Fulton. He beat the count but was instantly stormed to the post where Inoue flurried and the ref called the fight as Fulton fell to his butt.

One of my worries for Fulton heading into this fight was Inoue’s speed and skill in open space. While his wins over Figueroa, Leo and Roman were impressive, none of them are Inoue stylistically. The idea was that Fulton was a fleet footed lateral movement based fighter that could theoretically keep Inoue at range with his size and lean on him when it came time to get on the inside, smothering the smaller fighter’s work. Neither of those things happened. Turns out, Roman is not analogous to Inoue. I’m actually curious if Fulton’s all terrain nature kind of bit him on the ass here. We’ve seen fighters who are willing to meet their opponents at the range/pace they want struggle when they have to be the setter. Cause Fulton was content sitting in a bladed stance at middle distance with Inoue, probably a terrible idea for basically anyone. The lateral movement we had seen basically didn’t exist as Inoue didn’t really pressure and Fulton didn’t try to make him chase. When Fulton did move, it was purely defensive. There were a couple times between rounds 5 and 7 where Fulton would land something meaningful, usually off of subtle half steps disguised by his own jab. But he could not build off it. And while Fulton is the bigger fighter, he’s not more aggressive. He’s not a pressure fighter himself who was going to use his size to bully around Inoue. And that definitely wasn’t going to happen after the first couple of clinch exchanges. Inoue did a great job of punching in the tie ups. One time an illegal uppercut after pushing Fulton’s head from the front headlock position (dope af tbh). Another a series of right hands after Fulton lept in behind the jab and got his arm trapped on the shoulder of Inoue. Inoue was just the better inside fighter.

I feel bad because Fulton is a great fighter. Like legitimately great. He’s beaten most of the top of the 122lb division. He’s tough as hell. Been in wars with some tough fighters. He takes the tough fights fans say they want to see. He earned those two world titles. He went over to Tokyo in an attempt to do something legitimately amazing, challenging, and career-defining. He does all the things you want high level prizefighters to do but he just came up against a once in a generation type fighter in his prime. And it’s a shame that I don’t have more positive things to say about him in this fight, but that is just a testament to how great Inoue is and how much he dominated this fight. I definitely underestimated Inoue in a few respects. The power more than carried. He didn’t look that much smaller than Fulton either. His fighting in the tie ups was way better than I thought it was.

It looks like we’ll be getting Inoue vs Marlon Tapales in November/December in a unification bout for all 4 major titles at jr featherweight. If that’s the case, there’s a good chance Inoue will be a 2 division undisputed champion. Absolutely amazing.

#naoya inoue #stephen fulton #boxing #results