#I like to grab the most mundane game feature and try to fit it into worldbuilding

[ink-ghoul]

do you think that 'lag' is something that physically hurts the player?

like a headache or something?

#11 am thoughts #it's like the universe screaming back at the player #that they're putting the world into too much strain #I like to grab the most mundane game feature and try to fit it into worldbuilding #it's fun #minecraft #like joint pain or static like some tags describe it #that makes flying / other activities just more difficult #because in a way the player is tied / connected to the universe too #hermitcraft

[dameronology]

pancakes & promises {finnick odair}

ok i don’t normally write for the hunger games but here is some morning fluff for 2 of my faves, @karasong​ & @megmeg-chan​ (based on meg’s request). i hope you enjoy💕

warnings: none...except swearing 

The mornings were always one of Finnick’s favourite times.

Things were quiet; calm and quell, worlds away from his hectic past and tainted memories. Finnick was never without a charming smile or flirty comment but behind his endearing exterior, there was a vortex of dark memories. The warm blue eyes you often caught staring at you had seen worlds of pain. The large hands that were the source of half his affection had once wielded weapons. He’d become so used to the noise - of the arena, of the war, of his own thoughts - that the silence was almost strange. He’d spent years trying to escape it, trying to fill it with the sound of gentle music and white noise and the low fuzz of the radio but nothing had worked. 

Then there was you. Between his arms underneath cover of the darks, head buried in his neck as you gently snored. The tickle of your breath against his bare skin and hands softly gripping onto his arms was an anchor. With your legs tangled underneath the sheets with his and your warmth beside him, he wasn’t afraid of the silence anymore. If anything, it was something he began to appreciate. It was a sign of change - change for the better. Most of which had been brought on your presence in his life. You were a barrier to the past, really. A definitive and constant existence intertwined with his that protected him from the bad parts of history. It was contained nicely in two parts: before you and after you. It was the latter he was so desperately holding onto, more than willing to throw the other into the abyss. 

Finnick had woken that morning as usual; naturally, thanks to the sunlight leaking through the blinds. If you weren’t wrapped up in his arms, usually thanks to your tendency to roll away in the night, he’d reach out for you without thinking. Instead of being met with your warm skin, his fingers came into contact with the sheets. They were cold - you must have been gone a while. He immediately sat up, a frown etched on his features. You were never gone. Why were you gone?

Then he heard you - in the kitchen, kettle going and singing quietly. That was another thing he wasn’t used to: domesticity. Someone to look after him, instead of it constantly being the other way around. Finnick made a point to care for you and look out for you, and he would have done it even if you’d completely denied him of love, but you didn’t. It was a relationship of equals. And equals didn’t often come along in these times.

Wrapping the sheet around his waist, he slipped out of bed and padded through to the kitchen. You were stood by the cooker, his shirt hanging off of your shoulders and a song playing quietly on the radio. 

It was one of those moments he couldn’t really explain; it was so simple, so domestic and sweet, but one he was happy to stay in forever. He’d experienced everything else in life - moments of heroic grandeur, moments of great loss - but somehow, it was the little things he wanted to hold onto. The sight of you in the morning; the smell of your body wash on your skin after a shower; the feeling of your soft hands tracing the scars that littered his skin. It was normal to remember all the big flashpoint moments, but what about all the tiny ones in between? The things that interconnected all the different eras of his life? Ones like this, where nothing in particular was happening, but that were so worth holding onto.

He leant against the door frame, watching you for a moment. Finnick didn’t want to disturb you - or maybe he wanted to savour the moment. He woke up to you every morning but he wanted to remember each and individual single day. That was something he’d come to learn, having been reminded of his mortality so many times. He’d be damned if he was going to hold onto the moments that made him stare death in the face and tell it to back the fuck down so many times. 

The floor-boards beneath creaked slightly as he re-adjusted himself, causing you to jump slightly. You glanced over your shoulder at him, a smile playing on your lips as your eyes caught his. The morning sun was coming from through the kitchen window, pouring over you in a way that you made you seem almost other worldy. It was fitting, really.

‘G’morning.’ You greeted him through a mouthful of pancakes. ‘I made pancakes. Or I tried to make pancakes.’

His eyes followed your hand as you gestured up to the ceiling. There two or three half cooked pancakes stuck up there, clearly hanging on with all their might. 

‘What’s with the splatters on the wall?’ Finnick raised an eyebrow at you.

‘Oh, those ones hit the ceiling fan.’ You bit your lip to suppress a laugh, eyes falling to the floor. You could feel your cheeks heating up his intense gaze, even as a grin broke across his face. 

‘You never cook.’ Finnick said. He made his way over towards you, broad arms snaking around your waist as he pulled you into him. ‘The oven in this house is purely for decoration.’

‘I wanted to surprise you.’ You admitted. ‘I know you love pancakes and it’s been a while since we’d had them. Thought it might be a nice thing to wake up to.’

He could have sworn that his heart stopped at that. Finnick had spent so much of his life running from people, watching his own back and constantly looking over his shoulder. To have someone to actually do things for him, to (try and) cook for him with his favourite food in mind? The feeling was still entirely new to him. You were still entirely new to him. You did things for him without even thinking about just...because. Your love for him was reason enough. 

A silence fell over you for a moment as he just stared at you, intense blue gaze holding your own. He still couldn’t believe that you were real, even with your hands resting on his shoulders and your presence right before his eyes. The funny thing was that it wasn’t like the moment was particularly special, or big, or even interesting. It was just you and him in the kitchen, something which was quite mundane, truth be told. But maybe that was it: the fact it was mundane. His entire life had been so fucking crazy, so filled with panic and blunder and change, that to have something constant enough to even be considered mundane? That in itself was extraordinary. You were extraordinary. 

‘Hey.’ You gently brushed your hand over his cheek. ‘You’re staring.’

‘Yeah, I know. At you.’ He replied.

‘Okay, maybe let me rephrase that.’ You softly laughed. ‘Why are you staring?’

‘I just...’ he trailed off, biting his lip for a moment. ‘I just really love you.’

‘I love you too, Fin.’ You leant forwards, brushing your lips against his. 

Finnick was a good kisser; you knew that better than anyone. Somehow, every kiss felt like your first. His lips were always soft, always warm and welcoming. That, paired with his hands on your hips and the way he ran them up and down your sides, was enough to make you forget the entire world around you. He was enough to make you forget the entire world around you. As far as you cared - and as far as you wanted to care - it was just you and him, and nobody else. You were the center of his universe and he wasn’t willing to let anybody else in.

‘Oh, shit.’ You suddenly pulled away when the pancake on the stove started to spit smoke. ‘This one was gonna be good! And you distracted me!’

‘Darling, I always distract you.’ His cocky grin returned as he leant against the counter beside you. 

‘You were being so soft a minute ago.’ You quipped, jokingly rolling your eyes. 

‘I can be both.’ He grabbed your arm, yanking you back towards him. He wrapped his arms around your waist, 

‘I liked it when you were confessing your love for me.’ You softly murmured, pressing your forehead to his.

‘Want me to do it again?’

‘I certainly won’t complain.’

‘Okay.’ His grin faded to a thoughtful smile. ‘I love you so much that it’s almost overwhelming. In fact, it might be completely overwhelming but I don’t even mind.’

‘That’s better.’ You pressed another kiss to his lips. ‘And I love you too, so much that it is also almost overwhelming.’

‘Almost?’ Finnick quipped. ‘I’d argue I’m entirely overwhelming-’

‘- I also fell in love with your humbleness.’ You shot back. 

‘I will accept your declaration of almost overwhelming love so long as you promise it’s forever.’ He replied. He knew how cheesy he was being, but it was one of the things he was good at.

‘Of course.’ You grinned. ‘Forever?’

‘Forever.’ 

#finnick odair x reader #finnick odair imagine #finnick odair fluff #finn odair imagines #finn odair x you #hunger games imagines #hunger games x reader

[fizziefizzco]

A to Z of LynnCove: E is for Eternity

A quick look at a bright future 

This was supposed to be posted yesterday but I had a bit of a panic attack so that did not happen :] Sorry about that!! Here’s a long one to make up for it <3 

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

Even though it was his day off, Cove still woke up to his alarm in the morning. He wasn’t a natural morning person, and needed the extra push in order to wake up most mornings. The sun filtered in through the semi-opaque curtains of his bedroom, and the 25 year old man groaned softly as he moved to turn his alarm off and grab his glasses. Just as soon as he slipped them on his face, did the sliding barn door to the bedroom open to an eager little Chesapeake Bay Retriever that bounded over to him and licked at the free hand that laid off the side of the bed. 

“Well good morning to you too, Fleche.” Cove hummed and petted the not-quite puppy , but not quite an adult dog, her coat was soft yet a little wet, as Fleche was a very messy eater.  At the little girl’s insistence, Cove swung his legs over the edge of the bed and stood up, stretching in the light of the summer sun after he opened the curtains. Just as he stood up, the smell of breakfast cooking reached Cove’s nose. “Ah. So this is what you were sent here to do. Already had your breakfast, little girl?” Fleche pushed against Cove’s legs, not even looking up at him to answer his question. 

The house he lived in at age 25 was nothing short of beautiful. A small beach house right close to the water, it was like something out of a dream when he found it. Gorgeous wood floors, an overall hawaiian feeling to it (for being in southern california) and the best view ever…. Well, the beach was good too. 

[Rest Under the Cut]

His view, though, came in the form of a person’s back being turned to him as they stood in the kitchen, cooking breakfast. Tall and angular, the years had been very kind to them, and their hair was long and in its natural color, a warm brown. There was a tattoo on their left calf of a crab surrounded by poppies, one that matched his own of a dolphin that resided on his lower back. They didn’t hear him coming, but Cove wasn’t one for pulling pranks, that thankfully, was his spouse’s forte. Cove walked up behind them, gently wrapping large arms around their waist and nuzzling his face in their hair. 

“Good Morning sleepyhead.” They spoke, not turning their head to look over at him. 

“ Mornin’ Lynn.” Cove returned, pressing a kiss to his spouse’s cheek. 

Lynn and Cove had changed a lot over the years in terms of likes and appearances. Lynn, who had once been asked to model thanks to their beautiful and femmine figure, was now a lot more androgynous after some soul searching, and a wonderful support network. Cove fit the more masculine look, and looked a lot more like his father, but that same look betrayed his soft and shy personality. 

“What are you making?” Cove asked after Lynn turned to look back at him and to get a kiss. Lynn smiled warmly as they turned back to the pan, and what was cooking inside it. 

“Pancakes. I made some separate ones for me, these are your pancakes.” Cove had only been half-listening after they mentioned that they made pancakes, the hungry thoughts of food filling his mind as he let go of his spouse. 

“I’ll set the table. What do you want to drink?” Cove asked, rubbing his eyes with a wide yawn. Lynn shrugged as they flipped one of the pancakes. 

“Orange juice sounds good.” Lynn said nonchalantly, to which Cove nodded and grabbed the bottle from their fridge, which was decorated with many tourist magnets as well as photos, ads, and sticky notes. 

Sooner, breakfast was finished cooking. Lynn served Cove’s plate first, and then their own at their small nook that served as their dining table. Fleche had run off to nap in a sunny spot on the couch, their living area being an open floor plan. The two of them weren’t perfect, as many people seemed to still believe, but they worked well and communicated with each other - which led to such a strong relationship. They had their own things that they did, and own friends, but they still did a lot together as a couple - one thing they loved doing, even now, was going for a surf on their days off. Cove wanted to ask Lynn if they were up to the idea. 

“Are you up for surfing today, husband?” Lynn asked, as though they’d read Cove’s mind. A mischievous smile danced on their lips, and Cove wasn’t sure if they could...or if they were just messing with him, but he felt like they knew. 

“Yes.”He squeaked out, a blush appearing on his features. 

The topic soon, even though it was their day off, developed into talking about work. At age 25, Cove was a chef and organizer for a local charity kitchen. It wasn’t a glamorous job, certainly, but it was one that he enjoyed doing. People loved him, and he was able to talk easier with the vulnerable people he taught to cook. Lynn’s hard work their entire life paid off, and they were a zookeeper, taking care of marine animals at the zoo’s aquarium. Their work and his helped pay for their gorgeous house, and dog.. And the nice set of savings for when they would try for children. 

The trip to the beach was as mundane as it always was, but for the two of them - every moment was magical as they ran around the water near their home. Fleche loved to play fetch with them when they went out on their surfboards, she could swim really far and would bring back the frisbee they threw each time. Fleche was also a very good girl as well, when they set her back on land and went at it surfing; the waters near their home were a prime spot for waves but were unknown except for by the locals. There was a kid that always came by to watch them, and the two of them often joked how much it was like they were already parents. 

After coming home from the beach and taking a shower, the couple split off and would do their own things on their day off. For Cove it consisted of testing a new muffin recipe that he wanted to surprise Lynn with, as well as getting in a few chapters of his new book, and watering the plants they were growing on their porch. For Lynn, their free time consisted of watching a new soccer match, a few crosswords during lulls in the game, working more on a painting they were doing, and unfortunately answering emails as the newest intern was a complete klutz but Lynn was very very patient. 

That night was time though for the two of them to get dressed up for a joint-family dinner. The Holdens and The Chos started it after Lynn went off for college and Cove moved out, though the individual families would still have separate dinners from time to time. It was much better with everyone though. Kyra still lived in Nevada, working ever hard on her writing - she had a boyfriend recently though, last time Cove and Lynn saw her. As for Mr. Holden, he’d gotten married the last summer, to a lovely woman named Aya who owned a flower shop, but Cove was still not sure about her. Mom and Ma were doing really well for themselves, taking it easy but still being the life of their country club. As for Lizzie… well, as much as Lynn’s older sister loved to joke about her lil sibling doing all the big milestones before her, there was one thing that she didn’t count on. Lizzie had a kid, and with her oldest friend no less. Shiloh and Lizzie had met again after that awkward encounter, and he’d apologized to her, with real feelings. They weren’t married yet or anything but things were going well for them, and they’d had a kid. Bertie, who was three. Lynn loved the little guy, and even though Cove and Shiloh were still awkward around each other as ever - the Holden-Cho family was good. 

“Do you have the thing you told Ma you’d bring?” Lynn waved their hand over to Cove who laughed as he took a container out of the fridge. 

“Of course. I made sure to tell Claude that she liked it so much when she came to visit. And yes, he promised to stop hitting on her.” He responded to his spouse’s question, watching as they slid earrings in while grabbing their keys. Lynn stopped short before doing anything else , feeling their husband’s eyes on their back the entire time. 

“Can I help you, Mr. Holden?” Lynn’s face split into a sly, seductive smirk. Cove bit his lip as he went to grab his coat from the counter barstool. 

“Why no, Mx.Holden, I was just admiring my ravishing spouse. You never cease to amaze me.” He mumbled as he closed the distance to them, Lynn using their hands to move his to their waist. 

“And you never cease to be the cheesiest man alive. You’ve got to stop hanging out with those boys.” Lynn’s words were drawn from their lips as Cove pressed a kiss to them. No makeup, but lip balm this night.  Cove pressed another kiss, and then another to his spouse’s lips, before pressing their foreheads together with a happy, contented sigh. 

“Normally I love being home with our families, but..” 

“But..?”

“But I’d rather much take you back to our bedroom and show you how much I appreciate you.” 

Lynn laughed at that and pulled away, heading to the shoe rack and front door. 

“Come on handsome. I’ll let you show me later tonight.” Lynn slid some cute flats on, their slender fingers brushing against the anklet around their … well, ankle. Before heading for the door, Lynn shot a look back at their blushing husband, whose hands were empty. 

“Don’t forget the food.”

#our life beginnings & always #Our Life #Cove Holden #OC: Lynn Cho #Cove Holden x Lynn Cho #mywriting

[vicunaburger]

Imperfect and inhuman, are we?

Fandom: School of Rock: The Musical (AU Verse) Chapters: 1/? Pairing: Dewey Finn x OC (Magdalena Newton) The Players: Dewey Finn, Magdalena Newton, Ned Schneebly, The School of Rock Students Word Count: 1,978 Warnings: M for Future Things

Notes: Y’all remember when I said I was going to play in in the Dewey Finn + vampire universe? WELL...here we go. Trying out a new “free-form” scene by scene chapter format, rather than a standard chronological order. We’ll see how this plays out

Chapter 1 - Night - Routine

The alarm went off at precisely 8:14pm.

From under the massive pile of blankets covering the twin-sized bed, an arm slithered out, feeling along the nightstand in the dark. The vibrations from the cellphone led the fingers toward their goal, tapping the screen - a few misses - before the noise finally ceased. Finished with its task, the arm retreated under the blankets, tucking itself inward like a snake retreating to its den.

At 8:17pm, the alarm went off again.

This time, an entire body followed the arm out of the blankets, turning off the alarm with one hand, and turning on a small desk lamp with the other. With a wide yawn, they stumbled out of bed, shuffling along the carpeted floor until they reached the bathroom. Luckily, this room had an automatic light fixture, the space filling with a soft white glow. Another automatic feature kicked on around the same time; a TV screen built-in to the vanity mirror taking up most of the wall. At once, the familiar voice of the weather channel anchor echoed around the tiled bathroom.

Magdalena Newton looked a mess when she woke up.

Her only saving grace was the fact she had the forethought to plait her long hair into a braid every night, or else she would have to deal with a rat’s nest besides the general unkept-ness of her appearance first thing in the morning. Absently, she untied the ribbon in her oil-black hair, watching the weatherman as she started to untangle the strands.

Sunrise was at 6:28am that morning; a good amount of time to take care of her errands.

Magdalena tapped the center of her vanity mirror and another screen snapped to life, along with some ring lights attached to a small camera. Within a few seconds, she could see herself in the mirror’s surface, as clear as though she were looking in the actual glass.

Technology was a marvel.

Her reflection was always such a strange thing to look at, to be honest. There were moments it didn’t seem like she was the one looking back at herself, only recently getting the ability to see herself within the past few decades. It was centuries before she could recall what she truly looked like, relying only on a painted portrait or a lover’s descriptions.

Both of which were never accurate.

Wincing at her haggard appearance, Magdalena started to work on fixing herself up for the night. No use going out looking like you just rolled out of bed… even if it were true. She was raised to be a proper lady when in view of other people, and that took some care and effort on her part. Besides, one never knows who you might see wandering the streets so late at night, or whom you might be looking for.

—

Was it just him, or did the sliding door of his van sound louder when it was dark outside?

Checking his watch in the circular beam of the streetlamp, it was just around 9:00pm when he parked his van outside of his apartment building, sliding open the door to start moving equipment from the vehicle to the home. It had been another late-night practice session at the concert venue with his students, which meant he had spent the last hour or so of practice getting berated by parents for keeping their kids so late.

The gods of rock care not for simple mortal concepts like time. Or calling parents in advance. Or responding to the last 15 text messages you got.

Eh, he knew they would shut up about it once they saw all the hard work the kids were putting into the show. It was shaping up to be quite the epic mid-summer concert spectacular he had seen in his dreams. The uptight little bastards were really doing him proud.

Dewey Finn stuck the handle of his guitar case between his teeth, trying to balance the bottom half with his knee, and simultaneously grab his satchel from under the front seat. It was a good idea, in theory, had it not been for the fact that the angle of the guitar case was preventing him from reaching into the van. He wasn’t about to set his prized guitar case on the street, nor did he feel like making two trips up and down the building’s stairwell.

He lost count of how many times he had sent angry emails to the supervisor about the busted elevator, only to be told it would “take some time” because it was a “historic building”.

Historic was a polite word for collapsing at any given moment.

Dewey couldn’t complain too much, all things considered; the apartment’s mysterious landlord company gave him a break on the rent due to him using the space for education. Apparently, whoever own the place was a fan of music, which gave them an upgrade in the landlord scale from Hell spawn to Minor Annoyance.

Shifting his weight to keep the guitar case balanced, Dewey tried again to reach the satchel, muttering a slew of curses with a mouthful of leather handle.

—

Magdalena heard the van door before she even rounded the corner, which made her take pause during her speedy trek down the sidewalk. Pulling out her phone, she checked the time: 9:07pm. He was a little earlier than she anticipated, putting a significant kink in her plans for that evening.

For the two and a half weeks, she had clocked him arriving at his apartment no earlier than 9:39pm, which would leave her plenty of time to scale the fire escape until she reached his floor. Nothing scandalous ever happened during her vigils; she was more than content to listen to the sounds of life from his apartment. His weighty footsteps padding around the creaky floors, rummaging around for something to eat, playing video games late into the night. Speaking with other people either in person or on the telephone.

And her favorite hobby of his: singing.

Was it still considered voyeurism if one didn’t actually look at their object of affection? Listening was more than enough. Hearing him plunk out little tunes on his guitar and sing classic rock ballads were something she could have listened to all night if she had the opportunity. She would risk staying out beyond daybreak if he had stayed up all night singing; her own private concert, and he didn’t even know anyone was listening.

For now.

Still, she was debating if it was too early to introduce herself. What is in doing so, she was committing a grave miscalculation of her plans and would therefore have to resort to… unpleasant measures? What if he didn’t want to know her? What if he ended up not liking what he found out?

What if it was something mundane: she wasn’t the right type? The right build or height? The right gender? He hadn’t brought anyone into his apartment save his friend - Nathan? Nolan? - that she could tell. However, his daytime activities were as of yet a mystery, which could have meant this entire plan would end in utter disaster if he were spoken for.

Nope. There was no use thinking the worst of things without even making an attempt.

Nothing ventured, nothing gained.

—

The more he struggled, the more his jaw began to ache.

Dewey was stubborn more than anything, which his best friend Ned always pointed out just how illogical it was for him to be such a damn slacker 90% of the time when he would get into his hellbent fits of motivation. He was going to make it up the stairs in one go, and he wasn’t going to make a fool of himself doing it.

Such delusions of grandeur can only go so far before one’s hubris decided to take the driver’s seat.

Dewey’s jaw finally gave out, causing his guitar case to tip over across his knee and gain a bit of air before starting to fall to the dirty sidewalk below. The whole thing was like a slow-motion sequence in a movie; Dewey reaching out his hands, fumbling for purchase on the leather case, and ultimately sending it further away from him when he failed to grasp it tight.

Unable to watch the carnage, he screwed his eyes shut tight, waiting for the inevitable crashing of his precious instrument hitting cement-

-which never happened.

Cautiously opening one eye, he peeked out in the darkened space beyond the streetlight, seeing his guitar case being held oh so carefully by a pair of delicate hands. Fully opening his eyes, he followed those hands up their respective arms until he came face to face with his savior. A woman, about his height, stood next to his van with the case secure in her grip. It was hard to see her in the shadows, even more so with her face obscured by the neck of the guitar case.

“Clumsy.” The woman said, her voice clear and crisp in the still air.

Dewey was immediately taken aback by her speech, his overly sensitive musical ear picking up a mix of accents he couldn’t place, and a soft, rounded lisp near the front of her mouth. Within a few seconds, however, he was far more concerned with the welfare of his guitar, reaching out and gently taking the case from her.

“You… you saved Tawny from certain death. My precious axe. My baby.” He cradled the case like a small child, setting it down in the van with great care. “I was such a fool to treat you so carelessly.”

The woman tilted her head, “Tawny?”

“Tawny. Ya know, like the girl from the White Snake video? Only the hottest woman to ever dance on the hood of a car.” Dewey replied, “Not… not that it was her only quality.”

“Never met her, so I couldn’t say.” She replied, a bit of laughter lilting through her voice this time. “She was attractive though, no shame in saying it.”

Whirling around on his heels, Dewey finally turned his full attention to the woman, almost falling over into the passenger door of the van once he got a good view of her. He didn’t know what he expected, but it certainly wasn’t… her.

“Snow White” was the immediate image that popped into his head. She looked pale as a ghost in the dim shadows, with dark hair tied intricately with braided bits gathered into a low ponytail, and her bright blue eyes catching the light like some nocturnal creature. The stark difference between her skin and her inky hair, coupled with her all black ensemble gave her the appearance of a living black and white image. The only color visible in the darkness with a bright, robin’s egg blue scarf tied in a bow around her neck.

“Uhhh…. I… you… wow…” Dewey leaned against the van, trying to act casual. “I mean, w-what’s a girl like you doing on a sidewalk like this? It’s late for a casual urban hike.”

“Protecting defenseless musical instruments from certain death.” She mirrored his stance, placing a hand on her hip. “I moonlight as a vigilante.”

He nodded, holding out his hand in a friendly gesture, “Ah, well, consider me a grateful citizen oh Superhero- Lady- Ma’am. Wow- you know what? That was lame. I’m just gonna show myself out before I embarrass myself any further.”

Dewey started to take his hand away, but not before the woman took hold of it, shaking it with a firm grip, “All in a night’s work, fair citizen.”

The woman - reluctantly- let go of his hand, stepping around him and continuing her way down the sidewalk. As though finally discovering that: yes, he had a brain, and yes, he should use it immediately, Dewey jogged a couple paces to try and catch up to her. She stopped when she heard him approaching, which made him bump into her softly, having not anticipated the sudden pause.

After steadying himself, Dewey ran a hand through his hair awkwardly, “Listen. Maybe… maybe we can start over? Because this whole night is gonna keep me up for weeks if I don’t try and regain my dignity. I’m Dewey Finn.”

Laughing softly, though she covered her mouth delicately with the back of her hand, she nodded. “Fair enough, Dewey Finn. I’m Magdalena.”

Writing Tags: @amywright @mrgeuse  @hoodoo12 @mr-geuse @paxenera @leiasolo77 @go-commander-kim @a-subconscious-manifestation @asriells @missihart23 @heknowshisherbs

#school of rock musical #school of rock broadway #school of rock fanfiction #school of rock AU #dewey finn x oc #writing time

[beneaththetangles]

Seven AU Spinoffs I’d Rather Watch Than the New Oregairu OVA

Oregairu fans erupted over the recent news that a new OVA was on the way, to be bundled with the game for season three of the series. To tell the truth, I’m not completely sure what the OVA will be about. Will it follow the others and cover light novel material that didn’t make it into the TV season? Will it be original? Or will it adapt the newly written material from Watari, which has been derided by some as a harem cash-grab? I don’t know, and though I will watch it, I’m don’t really care much where the story goes. It’s run it’s course. I’d much rather having something more original, like say, a spinoff series.

Below are seven ideas for spinoffs from Oregairu. Most, however, are not traditional ones—they’re more like alternate universe series, taking the same characters and in varying degrees, their backgrounds and relationships, and placing them in new situations. I would die to get even one of these. Watari-sensei and all you folks that make anime happen, are you listening?

Ahem, anyway. Let’s get started:

Free Kick! — The Hayama series

Hayato Hayama is the most popular kid in school—athletic, smart, conscientious, and rich. In fact, his parents are pushing him toward taking over the family business (a conglomerate), and expect their always-respectful son to accept that he’ll need to drop out of soccer in preparation. But this time, he’s not going to be “Everybody’s Hayato.” Supported by his best friend, the outlandish and clueless Tobe, irascible team manager Iroha, tennis ace and love interest Miura, and a brand new cast of characters, Hayato is going to try to make his dreams come true by reaching nationals and going pro. And if that sounds trite, it’s not—everything is on the line, thanks to his frenemy (and another possible love interest?), Haruno, who brokers a deal with Hayato’s parents—win the entire championship, or drop soccer and his friends forever.

I’m a Fujoshi (But I Don’t Want These Boys to Kiss) — The Ebina series

Hina Ebina is free! Out of the bonds of having to “play a role” in high school, she’s happy about her college life, where she can show the world her love for all things yaoi, beginning by joining the anime club. And things are progressing perfectly, as she finds that the club is full of hot guys, and she’s been named vice president, behind only the mysterious and rarely sighted club president. So, basically, she has free reign to make it the yaoi hangout of her dreams! But things go haywire the very next day when Ebina discovers that the beautiful boys have sabotaged her, leaving her on the hook for their misdeeds as they branch off into a different club, leaving Ebina to clean up the trash with only a group of slovenly, male misfits. Can she turn the club around, keep track of these otaku members, and realize her yaoi-est of dreams? It could be that all these goals are connected to that mysterious president…

Iroha and Komachi: Junior Star☆Detectives

Bonded by their mutual love for the latter’s brother, Iroha and Komachi can’t otherwise stand each other. Iroha is a little too manipulative and worldly for Komachi’s tastes, and Komachi is too “real” and no-nonsense for Iroha. But when chance brings the two together to track down a cat-napper, and they successfully do so to the tune of a 50,000 yen reward, the pair decide that their mutual strengths outweigh their differences, and start a detective agency! Aided by the surprising wisdom of the gentle tennis student athlete, Totsuka and the gumption of over-eager Taishi, and under the guidance of the kind but sharp Meguri-sempai, the two will take any case, from the most mundane to those that stretch their wits and put them in utmost peril—as long as they get back before closing time and their coffee and macaron sandwich.

Great Teacher Hiratsuka (GTH)

Shizuka Hiratsuka’s life is starting to spiral. As she transitions to a new school, she’s grieving about leaving her most recent group of students, with whom she was particularly close, and at a recent wedding is once again reminded that she’s virtually the last of her group of college friends who remains single. Not to mention that her new school is the roughest of the roughest, a place with the lowest graduation rates in the country and renowned for gang violence, reflected in how the study body treats her car on the first day of class. When it seems that she’s about to explode (or at least get drunk…again), she finally meets the school principal—a certain blonde (with hair still obviously dyed…it should be gray by now), and in the most unexpected of ways, finds the motivation to teach this group of lost cause kids and maybe once again find a meaning in her own life that’s not connected to her relationship status.—though it seems that good things sometimes come to those who wait.

My Middle School Life is Miserable, As I Expected — The Rumi series

Rumi Tsurumi’s middle school life was supposed to be better than elementary, she thought. She tried, she really did, but once again found herself on the outside looking in. But that’s how it is, she realized. I’m just a loner and don’t really want to be a part of all this meaningless chatter and those fragile relationships anyway, which is precisely when the unthinkable happens—the most popular boy in school confesses to her! As predicted, it’s a cruel joke, but what happens next wasn’t something Rumi could foretell: A tough, quiet boy and goofy, talkative girl from her class, people whose names she barely knew, stand up for her. Could it be that a new school life is on the horizon? Well, with the weirdos being attracted to this new group of friends, it’ll still be miserable, as expected. Also featuring Orimoto, because why not (preach!), this series is a true spin-off of the original.

Rewriting Myself as the Protagonist Hero in Another World! — The Zaimokuza / Saki series

College did not go well for Yoshiteru Zaimokuza. Failing the creative writing class he assumed he would ace, ridiculed by fellow anime club members, and otherwise not fitting at all into university life, he dropped out after just one semester. Now, the only time Zaimokuza goes out is to eat at his favorite ramen place where a former classmate, Saki Kawasaki, works while putting herself through school. On the way home from dinner one day, the unthinkable (actually totally thinkable) happens when Zaimokuza is hit by a bus, and awakens in a fantasy land that seems strangely like his light novel draft. However, this protagonist wakes up back in his own world—it seems his rather large body absorbed the bus’ blow and he survived. But now, every time he completes another chapter, Zaimokuza returns to the alternate world, though things aren’t exactly as he had planned due to some inconsistencies in his writing, and rules have started to come into place that don’t make this quite a fairy land (it also seems to be missing the heroine character he wrote). When Saki picks up the novel that he leaves behind, she finds herself also dragged into the world, one that she wants no part of.

From Sky to Heart — The Yui series

Yui Yuigahama is Miss Popular, but she’s not happy. Everything seems so fake—most of all, as the only boy in the school who throws shade at her states, her. While walking home one day, she chases a funny looking rodent into a field where she begins to fall…upward, finding herself in a world full of anthropomorphic animals, with the rodent offering her a chance to make her life into “something genuine.” Yui takes it and finds herself in a world of adventure where she’s able to free humans and creatures alike from the physical manifestations of maladies that are haunting them. And as she finds meaning in her life, Yui also develop real friendships with other fighters that have their own tales, and finds one boy particular in romantic pursuit of her, though that mean boy from real life? He likes the changes he’s seeing in her, too. Hopefully, Yui can keep these lives separate…it’s not like boy #1 is going to transfer into school with her and boy #2, right? Right?

=====

If you want to watch the real Oregairu, it’s currently streaming on Crunchyroll. The light novel from which its adapted, My Youth Comedy is Wrong, As I Expected, is available through Yen Press.

#Anime #Oregairu #Yahari Ore no Seishun Love Comedy wa Machigatteiru. #My Teen Romantic Comedy SNAFU #My Youth Romantic Comedy Is Wrong As I Expected #Articles #Author: TWWK

[lov3nerdstuff]

Fallen {Part 2}

*Loki x reader*

{Part 1} {Part 3}

Chapter: 2/?

Words: 2k

Imagine: You go on a more or less involuntary roadtrip with Loki after he finds you hiding in Grand Canyon. With the Avengers AND the police chasing you, you are forced to trust each other in ways neither of you could've imagined.

Genre: mainly humor, little fluffy

"And why are you here?" Loki asked, letting his gaze wander over the rocky landscape.

"Nah… doesn't really matter. I'm here. That's all that matters." You mused, gazing up to the millions upon millions of stars.

There was something in the way your voice carried their meaning through the silence and it made Loki shiver involuntarily. He was sure of one thing: you didn't refuse to tell him because he was a stranger. No, it was something far worse and he would make sure to find out what it was. For now all he could tell was that the memory pained you. Usually, under normal circumstances and with any other being but you it would be his greatest joy to dig deep into this wound until his target cracked, crashed and burned. But for some reason, being here with you made him want to do rather the opposite. Not because you were so fragile or because he cared so much… he just couldn't imagine to voluntarily hurt you and so he didn't inquire any further. You seemed equally lost in thought and thus the two of you remained in the comfortable silence of the nature around you. 

"Are you cold?" Loki finally asked and his smooth voice seemed to cut through the cold nightly air like a breath of fire. Despite every vain attempt to keep his cool and pretend that not every nerve in his body was ablaze, he just couldn't stop himself from growing increasingly fond of you and with a speed he couldn't quite comprehend.

"How'd you get the impression? Can you read my mind?" You smirked.

"No. You're shivering." He rolled his eyes at your ridiculous question, but only then realized that you were merely mocking him, playing him like a damn game of cards. He let out a long breath and ran a hand through his hair. If he kept being around you, and he knew he would, you'd drive him absolutely mad.

"Why do you sit as far away from me as possible?" You asked with a teasing curiosity, closing your eyes and slightly swinging your foot to a music only you could hear.

"I don't like being around people." He answered coldly, his voice coming out harsher than intended.

"And yet you are still here…" You sang and turned your head to face him. The huge grin on your lips was the most annoying thing he'd ever seen and yet… also the most endearing.

"You know nothing about me." Loki sighed. 

"Oh well, I know that your name is Loki, that's something at least. You're probably not out here alone, but you despise your company. Probably the Avenger-guys, if you ask me. Only ever saw them on TV to be honest, but they seem quite… righteous." You laughed, making him chuckle in return. 

"Righteous is a very... fitting way to put it." Loki grinned at you. "Kind of an understatement though." 

"Nah…" You winked at him. "I bet they are annoying as hell."

Loki let out a loud and sincere laugh. "Oh, you have no idea! They are a melting pot of mundaneness, prejudice and witty remarks."

"Well, I could live with the witty remarks." You chuckled. "But the rest… I'm not that much into normal people."

Loki grinned at you; of course you didn't like normal people. Otherwise you'd hardly be sitting alone in the wilderness talking to a stranger in the dark.

"I get why you'd run away." You sighed, sitting back up and crossing your legs beneath you.

"You do?" He asked immediately.

"Well, I… I just don't think they are the kind of people who would be very open for things, or people, they don't understand. People can be cruel when they are scared. They lash out at the people who deserve it the least just because they are different." You said quietly, looking down at your hands in your lap.

Your words twisted the sinews of Loki's heart and he felt uncomfortably exposed. But then again, your words made him stop before he could lash out at you in defense. That was exactly what you were talking about and the realization that he himself was no better than the Avengers in this regard hit him hard. 

"I'm sorry if I crossed a line, I didn't mean to…" You looked back up and into Loki's wide eyes.

"It's… it's fine, you are right. They are a mean bunch of assholes if you ask me. But they are kind and welcoming to each other and that's what hurts me the most." He said without thinking, only realizing too late that he had unintentionally shared one of his most intimate thoughts with you. This has never happened before, not once in the small eternity that he has lived. A cold heat washed over him like a wave crashing on the shore. Every cell in his body was burning and freezing at the same time and he felt the sudden urge to run.

You could only hear your own breath as you stared into his wide eyes. Both of you sat completely still as the space between you seemed to shrink into nothingness, eyes fixed on eyes, both unsure what do say or do.

You took the time to study his sharp features and his beautiful eyes, certain that if you just looked long enough you'd be able to see his soul.

Loki however couldn't believe the effect you seemed to have on him. He'd just shared a deep insight into his feelings with you and yet, he felt… relieved to have told you. Unbelievable. 

"I…" You started, feeling the overwhelming urge to open up as well. "I'm just passing through here, you know... I'm on my way to New York. I started in Sacramento and hitchhiked my way to Grand Canyon. There's always someone willing to take a helpless little girl a few miles east." 

"You don't look all that helpless to me." Loki chuckled. He was grateful for the opportunity to change the topic and leave his sudden reveal of emotions unaddressed for now.

"Well, they won't have to know that." You winked. 

"Why are you going to New York?" He asked, leaning his head to one side. "I mean… do you really want to go to New York or do you want to get away from Sacramento?"

You smirked, shaking your head slightly. "You're good at reading people. Really good."

"I've heard that much." He laughed. "And you're really good at avoiding questions you don't want to answer."

You smiled at him sweetly. "Everyone needs a talent I guess…"

"So… how are you planning on getting to New York from here on?" It was obvious to Loki that you didn't want to talk about your reasons or your past and he could very well live with that. As much as it intrigued him, he had his own demons he was trying to leave behind. If anyone understands the trouble of a difficult past, it was him.

"I wanted to ask random tourists if they'd be willing to take me a few miles, maybe I would've hidden in their cars… but I was stupid and fell asleep. Woke back up shortly before you attacked me."

"I'd hardly call that an attack!" Loki protested, humored by your little banter. "I hardly even scared you! I must say there are very few people who won't panic when a dagger is pointed at their throats."

"I was scared as hell, but showing fear is something entirely different. But you've got some really nice daggers… can I see them again?" You smiled at him in ever so slight excitement.

He just couldn't help himself, the way your eyes light up… He materialized one of his daggers and flipped it so that the blade lay in his hand, holding it out to you. In amazement you took it from him, holding it carefully but with a certain expertise. In the moonlight it looked utterly out of this world and you let out an unintentional sigh. You wanted to facepalm when you realized that indeed, neither Loki nor his blade were in fact out of this world.

"You like it?" He smirked, feeling confident like a little boy showing off his best toys to his secret crush.

"It's well balanced, light weight and elegant. Couldn't ask for more."

"I'm not gifting it to you." 

You let out a snort and gracefully twisted the blade in your hand before handing it back to Loki. "I didn't expect you to."

"You didn't?!" He mocked you. "I thought mortal women always expect to be gifted things."

Now you straight out laughed in his face. "Oh, you forgot that we're also helpless, stupid little things without an opinion, eager to let mysterious and of course male strangers dig into our tragic pasts full of sadness and misery in the hope of saving our poor little souls, which we will gladly reward by gifting them or bodies." 

Loki suppressed the urge to laugh. "Yeah, sorry, I forgot that. My bad."

You grinned at each other for a little moment longer, before Loki let the dagger disappear again.

"How do you do that?" You asked.

"It's called magic." He said with so much sarcasm in his voice that you just had to roll your eyes.

"Can you make me disappear?" You asked once more, but with a more serious undertone.

"Why would I do that?" Loki frowned at you.

You shrugged, not in the mood to explain that sometimes you'd like to simply be gone and not feel a thing anymore. 

Then, you heard a car in the distance, it's brakes screeching loudly.

"I must go." You said immediately, jumping to your feet. Loki however just stared at you in confusion.

"I can't have anyone find me." You added while grabbing your bag. Loki also got up, stepping off the blanket so you could stuff it into your bag.

"I found you." He said calmly. "Was that so bad?" 

"Yes." You frown and shake your head. "Well, no, but you're not…" You groaned in frustration.

Loki rose an eyebrow at you and watched you panic. Maybe he should do something to help, his feelings were urging him to do so, but his mind wanted answers first. 

"So you're on the run?" He asked.

"Yes." You sighed.

"You could've told me that."

"Yes."

"Why did you not?"

"Would it have changed anything?"

"No."

"Then there's your answer." You smirked at him. "It was nice meeting you, Loki. Really nice, actually. I haven't felt like this in months."

He felt himself silently agree with you. It had been more than nice. So much so, that he didn't want it to end already. But he realized that he would have to return to the Avengers soon and that you needed to go as well.

Just as you were about to walk down a small path, a rustling caught the attention of both of you.

"Hey! What are you doing here?" A ranger demanded to know rather loudly.

You froze in your movement.

"Hey, haven't I seen you before?" The ranger pointed at you and walked closer. "Yes, you were on the news!" 

He drew his gun and pointed it at your face with shaking hands. "Don't… don't move…" With his other hand he went to alarm his colleagues.

"You don't seem to do this very often." Loki commented from the side, seemingly completely unbothered by the weapon.

The ranger's head shot around to look at Loki, who he obviously hadn't noticed before. "You! Get over there!" 

With an eye roll Loki sauntered off to stand next to you close to the edge of the cliff.

He could see the panic in your eyes as you looked at him, silently begging him to help you out of this.

He knew what helping you meant, knew that he'd have to live with the consequences. What had gotten into him, thinking about someone else's well before his own? When had that happened? But no there was no denying it any longer. One more look at your face gave him every certainty that what he was about to do would worth it. You were worth it, to him. 

"Do you trust me, y/n?" He asked quietly.

"No." You breathed. "But do I have a choice?"

"No."

With that he gently took your hand in his. Just as you were about to protest, he pulled you with him over the edge of the cliff. Greeted by nothing but the empty air, you fell into an uncertain future. But not once did Loki let go of your hand.

___________

A.N.: I'm sorry this chapter is a little short and rly badly written 😭 I've been rewriting it over and over again but nothing good came out of it... So this is what we're rolling with! It's kind of like a filler chapter to establish a basic relationship between Loki and reader... I rly hope you still somewhat enjoyed it and I promise the next chapter will be better 💗✨

Tags:

@oceans-deep-ice

@waiting-for-motivation

@its-remy-not-ratatouille

@scienceofficersmith

@rinthehufflepuff

If you'd like to be added to the story tag list or general tag list send an ask or comment below ✨💗

#loki fanfic #loki x you #loki x reader #loki imagine #loki x y/n #Loki #loki odinson #loki of asgard #loki fandom #loki laufeyson #loki (marvel) #tom hiddleston imagine #tom hiddleston x reader #tom hiddleston fanfiction #tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston x you

[porkchop-ao3]

A Thrill I’ve Never Known (Chapter 40)

Revenge Is A Dish Best Eaten

A little bloodshed, a little misunderstanding, a little planning for the future. 

(All chapters tagged with #ATINK and also posted on Ao3, username PorkChop)

-

I didn't dare breathe too loud or move too suddenly – or at all, really. If I distracted either of the men sitting in front of me, blood would spill for sure. I already had Lenny's ankle on my conscience, I did not need somebody's missing finger on it too. 

John and Javier were playing five finger fillet on the same table I had decided to sit and draw at. It had been a slow day, all of the chores had been done and there was nothing left for me to do by noon, so I thought I'd get creative. People were bored; evidently, with grown men deciding to risk their own fingers for a quick thrill. They'd joined me not too long ago, pulling out their knives and challenging each other in good-natured competition. I'd never seen anyone play the game before, and suddenly the blood stains on the table that had always puzzled me made sense.

John had nicked himself twice, his pinky finger seemingly always a little closer to the left than he anticipated. Luckily he only had a pair of perfect little cuts on the outside of his finger to show for it. But they weren't done playing. 

"Wanna go again?" Javier challenged, his mouth twisting in a competitive smirk. 

Javier was good. He was yet to do himself any harm and had won both rounds they'd played.

"Of course. I'm just gettin' warmed up," John responded, briefly lapping at his little finger, licking away the blood. 

"You sure, John?" Javier teased.

"Yeah, are you sure?" I piped up, giving him a concerned look. I wasn't goading him like Javier was, I wanted him to think about what he was doing, "they say your pinky is the last digit you wanna lose, after your thumb. It's the one that gives you the widest reach–"

"I ain't gonna lose my pinky finger," he cut in, and Javier laughed. 

"I'm just saying. It's already bleeding," I shrugged, and Javier only laughed harder. 

"His finger ain't all he'll lose, we'll play for some real money this time, huh?"

"Twenty bucks to the winner?" John proposed, prompting me to sigh.

"Sure," Javier nodded graciously then pulled his knife out from where it was wedged into the table. He did a flourish with his knife, somehow rolling it over each of his knuckles without cutting himself before he finally gripped the handle, held it poised over his other hand, splayed out on the table. 

"Christ, John, can you do that?" I questioned and John directed narrowed eyes at me.

"If I tried, probably," he hissed.

"Please, I ain't asking you to try," I snorted. 

"Impressed with my knife skills, muñequita?" Javier lilted, looking me in the eye as he threw his knife up, letting it flip in the air before landing perfectly in his hand again. 

"Truthfully I'm wondering how much blood was spilled while you were learning to do that," I mused and he laughed aloud, shaking his head at me. 

"If you look close he's got plenty of scars on those hands," John commented, leaning towards me, "ain't from darning no socks."

"You talk a lot'a shit for someone who's lost every round so far, Marston."

"Twenty bucks. Let's do this, shall we?" John said with renewed confidence, gesturing to Javier with the tip of his knife. "You first."

Javier complied, taking his knife and beginning his turn. I watched through squinted eyes as he stuck the knife by his thumb, then between two fingers, back and forth moving along a digit each time. He moved fast and precise with the most impressive display of dexterity I'd ever seen; between this and his guitar skills, it was clear that Javier was very good with his hands. 

He slammed the knife into the table when he completed the round, jamming it into the wood.

"You manage that, next round'll be blindfolded," he said, and I couldn't be sure if he was joking or not. I shook my head and exhaled through my teeth.

John cocked his head from side to side, stretching out his neck, shrugged his shoulders as if limbering up. Javier watched with a smirk, resting his head on his fist like it was all so mundane. 

The knife started moving, back and forth, slower than Javier but speeding up. I bit down on my bottom lip until it stung. 

"Don't lose your focus!" Someone yelled. 

It was such a stupid, reckless, awful thing to do. A completely dickish move. Only an absolute, raging cunt would think to do such a thing. Of course, it was Micah, stood over the table with an ugly snarl of a smile, hand hooked in his belt, cigarette hanging from his lips. 

I registered who it was in about the same time it took John to register the pain. 

The knife clattered on the tabletop and John jerked, hugging his hand into his chest and hunching over, releasing a low growl of pain before sucking in air through his teeth. I stood up abruptly, my chair kicking over behind me as I reached for his shoulder. 

"Shit! John, let me see, how bad is it?" I stammered, eyes scanning the table for any stray fingers. I couldn't see any. 

"I said don't lose your focus," Micah commented, brows raised. He seemed a little shocked that things had gone that way, though I didn't know why. Was he incapable of predicting the consequences of his actions or something? 

"Fuck off, Micah!" I spat, prying John's arm out so I could see the damage. "You're a complete prick!" I couldn't stop myself from hurling some abuse Micah's way.

"Goddamn right," John said through gritted teeth.

"You fucking this one too, that it?" Micah sneered and I scoffed, shaking my head at the ridiculousness of his behaviour. 

John's face was a little flushed – either from shock or embarrassment over the whole ordeal, I wasn't sure – but he finally let me see his hand. There was a lot of blood, and I felt a bit sick as I searched his hand for the source; I found it at the base of his ring finger, a deep gash right on the edge, low down. Well, his finger was still attached; but it was deep enough that it'd need some attention.

"Little boys shouldn't play with knives," Micah drawled, followed by a low, gritty laugh.

"Fucking dick," John grunted under his breath, eyes on him as he walked away. 

"Come on," I sighed, tugging on John's wrist and leading him over to the wagon with all our medical supplies. I deposited him on a chair then retrieved a bandage and something to clean it with, returning to him and sitting down beside him. 

"Bad time to ask for that twenty bucks?" Javier had followed us over, looking nothing short of amused now that he was comfortable that John was going to live. 

"I'll pay you after this bank job," John snorted drily. 

"Ain't gonna drop off, is it?" He nodded to John's hand, held out limply towards me. 

"If it does, you ain't getting your twenty bucks."

"Hey, that was Micah's fault, not mine," Javier teased. 

John hissed as I dabbed the wound with a cloth soaked in alcohol. 

"Sorry. We shouldn't take chances on whatever you've just stabbed into your body. I won't ask where that knife has been," I murmured, making sure to do a thorough job of cleaning the cut. 

"What's little Johnny done now? The wolves come back to get you?" Arthur approached, flanked by Mary-Beth. The two of them had been inside with Dutch, discussing security at the bank they were planning on robbing; Mary-Beth had been one of the girls sent to scope it out. 

"Don't be a dick, Arthur," John groused, a miserable frown painted on his face, never shifting. 

"Five finger fillet gone wrong. Thanks to our camp's other four year old," I muttered, noting Arthur's puzzled frown. "The overgrown one with greasy blond hair," I added. 

Mary-Beth snickered. She came over, leaning close to inspect the damage as I finished cleaning up the blood gathered between John's fingers. 

"Ooh, that's pretty nasty. You were lucky, though. I'll never understand why you boys play that silly game," she said. 

"Me neither," I shook my head, starting to wrap the bandage firmly around his finger. I looked up at Arthur, "I do hope you don't play it."

"No, never in my life," he said, far too enthusiastic to even be a little bit believable. I rolled my eyes at him. 

"Well, I'm rather fond of your fingers," I sighed, gaze dropping down to John's hand, "they can do beautiful things."

The resulting silence gave me time to replay my words in my head. I instantly realised how it sounded, and I made a frustrated sound. 

"Goddamn it. I meant your drawings, not anything else," I muttered, my face warming as I inevitably thought of all the other things his fingers could do. 

"Jesus, I thought you was bein' a little bold," John wheezed. They all shared a hearty laugh while I wanted to wade into the swamp and let the alligators do their worst. I shook my head, kicking myself. 

"I jus' meant you fellers shouldn't take 'em for granted. Don't listen to me, I'm a fool," I peeked up at Arthur, he was stood there with his arms crossed, a crooked, sweet little smile on his lips, eyes on me. 

"I understood what you meant," Mary-Beth assured me, patting my arm. Her eyes fell to my hands as I finished tying off John's bandage, stayed there for a moment, then widened. "What is that?!"

I jumped, expecting a gigantic spider to be crawling up my arm or something, but Mary-Beth grabbed my hand. I realised she was staring at the ring on my finger; the ring Arthur had given to me after my birthday, the one I'd taken to wearing on my ring finger, where it fit best. On my right hand, consciously. 

John, Arthur and Javier all put their attention on the ruby-adorned gold band. Everyone then looked at Arthur, lips parted, evidently shocked. The confusion was obvious and I was quick to put an end to it.

"This is my right hand!" I exclaimed, holding it up and waving it about. Mary-Beth frowned, looked down at her own hands, then realisation washed away her shock and rearranged her features into sheepishness. 

"Oh! Silly me," she laughed awkwardly. "I thought maybe Arthur had…"

"That would've been pretty fast," John noted, and Mary-Beth flashed him a frown.

"I don't think it can ever be too fast. When you mean the right one, you're s'posed to know, right?" She said.

Arthur awkwardly shifted on his feet, lifting his hat to wipe his forehead before replacing it. Looked a little red in the face, though it could've been the heat. 

"Anyway, that's a little sad. I was jus' starting to get excited. A wedding might be just what this camp needs to lift its spirits," she added with a wistful sigh. 

"Mary-Beth," I gave a nervous chuckle, shaking my head at her. She recognised my embarrassment and smiled at me. 

"I'll put down my shovel," she said quietly, then excused herself. 

Arthur cleared his throat, gestured to John's hand. "That's not gonna put you out of commission for another few weeks, is it? We gotta pay Bronte a visit tonight."

John scoffed, rolling his eyes petulantly. "Shut up. I'm fine."

"Just me making a big deal out of it," I said. 

"No, you–" Arthur began, shaking his head. 

"I appreciate it," John cut him off. "Better safe than sorry, right?"

"I thought it best to dress it, it might be little but it could still get infected," I explained. 

"Thanks," John said, inspecting his finger. 

"Come on, Marston. Dutch wants to leave soon, get there by nightfall," Arthur waved at him to get up, pushing him towards the house with a hand on his shoulder, "you too, Javier. We're a man down, what with Lenny's ankle. You can help out, right?"

"Of course," he nodded, and followed John. 

Arthur closed the gap between us, moving slowly, reaching a hand to my chin and giving me plenty of time to protest if I wanted. I didn't, of course, and he planted a kiss on my lips, so tender and in a way, elegant. I stood there, arms hanging at my sides distractedly, completely dumbstruck by the way he just did that, right in the middle of camp. It scared me to realise how easily he could transport my mind elsewhere, somewhere nothing mattered but him.

Then, like everything was completely normal, he pulled back. "I'll see you later. Or maybe in the morning, in which case, good night."

I nodded, unable to speak momentarily. Then, he left. I watched him go, like I always did, forever admiring the back of him, his broad shoulders, his strong stride, his lovely backside. He was incredible. 

"You're completely in love with that man, ain't you?" Abigail's words startled me a little, and I spun around to find her sitting with Jack a little ways behind me. She was wearing a knowing smile. I made a surprised huffing sound, unable to keep from smiling. 

"Good evening, both of you," I nodded to them, shuffling off to avoid responding to such an accusation. Of course, she was absolutely right.

-

I didn't feel like going to sleep when most of the camp went to bed. I wanted to wait up until the fellers came back, so I decided to take a little walk around our campsite. I found myself stopping by a small shack on the outskirts, with a deck that wrapped around it and looked out over the swamp. I took a seat on the deck, enjoying the peace of the night. 

Micah and Charles were both on guard duty, and occasionally one of them would walk by doing the rounds. Micah didn't even notice I was there. Charles did, but he didn't say anything, just gave me a friendly nod and kept on his way; he struck me as a man who appreciated the need for solitude at times, and had no problem leaving me to it. 

I laid back on the deck, crossing my ankles and folding my arms behind my head as I looked up at the sky. It was a mostly clear night, only a few stray clouds floating past the full moon giving it that spooky look, like a werewolf should be howling at it. 

The stars looked beautiful, speckled across the sky, glowing and mingling with the wispy cloud. It looked like someone had flicked paint across a black canvas, softened it with a touch of water. It took me back to being a child, when my father would help me climb up onto the roof of the lean to next to our house and I'd lay there, watching the sky. My brother would get sulky that he wasn't allowed to do the same, him being too heavy for the roof to support. Of course, I had to stop, too, once I got too big.

I strained to peer up at the building behind me, considering only for a second before coming to the conclusion that the thing was far too decrepit to even attempt to climb. 

I laid there for a while, listening to the call of nocturnal birds and the guttural growls and hisses of gators nearby. When I heard footsteps, it surprised me only because I recognised who they belonged to without even seeing them. I wondered when I'd committed Arthur's gait to memory, firm and purposeful, but not hurried. It was confirmed when he called my name. 

"You alright down there?" He asked. 

"I'm fine, just stargazing," I replied.

"Charles told me you were over here. You want me to go?" 

"No, stay. I've been alone here long enough," I encouraged him, watching him step into view above me. 

He dropped to his knees above my head, leaning down to kiss my forehead before moving to my side. He shuffled and grunted, plucking his hat off, dropping it on his chest and laying down next to me. He released a sigh once he was settled, and I let the quiet linger for some time before I spoke. 

"How'd it go?" 

"It… it uh, it went… it just went. Currently I ain't so sure what to say about it," he murmured, puzzling me. 

"Did you speak to him?"

"Yeah," his tone was light, agreeable, "Dutch had a few words, sure."

"And things are sorted?" 

Silence. His mouth hung open like he was perpetually on the verge of starting a sentence. 

"Uhh, well Dutch thinks we can move on that bank, now," he eventually said.

I frowned and turned my head more to look at him directly, he met my eyes. 

"He… went a little crazy, out there," he admitted after a moment, eyes passively dropping to my mouth as he selected his next words, "ain't seen him so angry and hell bent on destruction before. Maybe that night at the Braithwaite's place, but this was different. Back then it seemed calculated, like he was sending a message, this time it just felt like… indulgence."

"What did he do?" I whispered, bracing myself. 

"We went in and got Bronte, took him back to the boat, started heading back. When he came round he– Dutch drowned him."

My eyes widened. 

"Then tossed him into the swamp, fed the corpse to a gator."

They widened even more.

"Yeah. That was about my response, too," he grunted, rolling his head to look up at the sky. "Won't be forgetting that any time soon."

"Jesus," I breathed, "I don't know what to say."

"Ain't much to say," he shrugged, "all I know is this bank job can't come soon enough. If Dutch plans on acting like this from now on, I think it's high time we all earn ourselves a way out."

I couldn't think of a response to that, either. I was suddenly faced with the realisation that Arthur was genuinely interested in getting out, and really, it made me feel weird. On one hand, I felt sad for him; for as long as I'd known him and years beyond that, the gang was his family. For him to be doubting it all now, was a little bit heart breaking. 

Though, on the other hand, if Arthur wanted to leave the gang and begin living life on the straight and narrow… how could that be a bad thing? The world was offering him a chance at redemption, to completely cease all those parts of his world that he'd admitted to me he was not proud of. Surely taking it would change his life for the better? If he had to say goodbye to the man who'd stood in as a father figure for years in order to make that change, well, it was a price to pay. But something told me Arthur could afford it, with how Dutch had been acting. Everyone could. 

"What's gonna happen, after we do this bank job?" I asked him.

"Well, Dutch is on about getting a boat out to some island somewhere. Told me he'd been speaking to a feller we could pay to get us out, all of us."

"An island?"

"Tahiti," he told me, though his inflection made it sound like a question. 

"Well I guess you wouldn't have to worry about your bounties," I mused.

"Wouldn't that be nice?" He said, but it was flat and unenthused. 

"You don't sound hopeful."

"A tropical island?" He scoffed, "how's a bunch of outlaws from America gonna build a life? He keeps talking about mangoes and ranching and all this nonsense. I don't know how it'll work."

"Mangoes," I repeated, and Arthur laughed. It was a loud, hearty laugh but a hopeless one. The laugh of someone so caught up in the ridiculousness of a situation that they almost didn't realise how much it sounded like a joke. 

"I say…" he began after he settled down, hesitant and a little unsure, "I say me and you, we head West."

"What? You mean after this bank job?"

"I think– maybe. I guess we have to make some sort of decision. Some plan. If Dutch wants to go to Tahiti and start up a mango farm, is that what we want?" He looked at me, his brows curved in question.

"We," I repeated quietly, my tummy warming pleasantly at the way he said that.

"Yeah, we. If you want to stick together… do you?"

"Of course!" I smiled at him. He stared at me for a moment, then slowly nodded his head, a subtle smile on his own face.

"Well then, you interested in travelling across the world?"

"No, not particularly," I admitted. 

"Yeah, me neither," he snorted. "So, say we do go west. I can't show my face anywhere near Blackwater, but if we give that place a wide berth and get past it, avoid all those patrols. I suspect it's calmed down a little by now, anyway."

"You think?"

"I think," he nodded, releasing a soft sigh, "trouble was before there was so many of us. Couldn't miss us. But just the two of us?" He trailed off, looking to me for my response. 

"West," I pondered aloud. "You know I've never been out West, but if you think that's our shot, I trust you."

"Okay," he whispered, his eyes were a little wide, intense. "Uhh, keep your stuff packed. I don't know how this bank job is gonna go, but we may have to leave quickly. My thinking is Dutch is planning on doing this bank, then setting up a boat out of here. If everything goes right, maybe we could leave when everyone else does," he mused, speaking as though he was lost in thought. 

"We just spring it on them? That we ain't going with them?" 

"I… I guess. It might not be pretty," he sighed. 

"No, I don't imagine it will. Dutch is going to try and change your mind."

"I know," he mumbled, scratched an itch on his forehead, "I don't want to go to no Tahiti."

"No," I sighed, shaking my head.

"Truth be told, I don't know who does. Maybe we won't be the only ones not getting on that boat."

"Wouldn't shock me."

"I don't see Abigail wanting Jack to make a trip like that. And someone like Charles? He certainly thinks for himself. I don't know."

"Well, I guess we'll see, won't we?" I breathed, looking back up at the stars.

"I guess."

"Shootin' star," I abruptly said, pointing up towards the sky. Arthur did a laugh that was more like a grunt. 

"I guess we better wish on it. What we hoping for?"

"I don't mind how it happens," I began, staring at the spot in the sky that the star had just sped past, "I just wish for everything to turn out okay."

"Me too, princess," Arthur reached for my hand, taking it away from where it was resting on my stomach. He lifted it to his mouth and kissed the back of it, and didn't let go.

#rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan #fanfiction #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x female reader #atink #rdr2 fanfic #reader insert

[pkg4mumtown]

Last Resort (Pt. 3)

Part 1 / Part 2

A/N: Alright, dudes, bear with me because this fic took control of the wheel, made a sharp left into soft-ville, and flipped me off along the way. Sorry, if I ruined a perfectly good fic with my thirst for soft!John. All the lyrics in this are by Avenged Sevenfold because that’s who I was listening to while writing this.

Warnings: Literally none this time, unless you count alcohol, angst, fluff...yea. Cool.

Summary: After your last contract with John and your stupid feelings manifesting, you decide that some space would be good between you two.

Taglist: @beyond-antares @anita-e-taylor @futuristic-imbecile @samanthagraceg @cuttlefishcatfish @gwenebear @derangedcupcake @cumberbatchbaps @celestiaelisia @lunaticgurly @onebatch--twobatch @shatter-me-now @xrevoltx @yes-captainstark 

I was grateful that the contracts sent to me for the week following that night were open, and therefore optional. I holed myself up, willing these feelings to go away. I had fallen for him, God only knows how. Maybe it was the glimpse of the softer side of him I was privileged to see, on occasion, but never for more than a second. Maybe the way he sometimes broke his façade and laughed softly at my dumb jokes. Whatever the reason, it happened, and I couldn’t be angrier at myself. That week I distanced myself from him, shut my phone off, hung up on relayed messages given by Charon from John, refusing contracts, even so far as to bribe hotel employees to not divulge my room number.

Just when I was beginning to relax into the idea that the arrangement might not be all that bad, that maybe I was willing to have him in my life in any respect, I received a closed contract. I stared at the screen for far too long, wishing that the words would magically change. I glanced at the price, chewing the inside of my lip as I did. It was nowhere near the price of the ones John and I normally did together but fuck me if I still felt the overwhelming urge to invite him. God, how I wanted to invite him, if only to hear his voice.

No. I don’t need him, or his smirk, or his hands, or his…no.

I gritted my teeth, as if it would prevent me from calling him. I simply sighed and got ready to head out. The lobby wasn’t empty by any means, but I was relieved to not see his face as I left.

I was thankful for the easy target, meaning minimal energy and low risk of injury. The target had very little security, allowing me to finish the contract with only a couple minor scrapes that were mostly my fault. It was a nice change from the voluntary vacation I gave myself, nearly causing me to go stir crazy.

I made eye contact with Charon immediately as I entered the Continental, his eyes flashing to the side in a silent signal. I looked over, seeing John standing in the closest walkway to the elevators. My blood ran cold at the sight of his clenched jaw and stoic features, knowing immediately that he was angry. I straightened my back as I walked, pushing past him without a second glance. He followed me, I knew he would, but I wasn’t about to air out our business in the lobby. As soon as we rounded the corner where the elevators were, he backed me up against the wall and examined the scrape on my forehead.

“Where were you? I’ve been trying to call you for days,” he revealed in a hushed growl.

The truth is, I wouldn’t know if he’d tried to call my phone. I shut it off the second I got back to my room after our last contract, only keeping my work phone on.

“Clearly on a job. What are you? My babysitter?” I rested my head against the wall, crossing my arms defiantly. I had to push him away. I just couldn’t let this continue and do this to myself.

“You could have gotten hurt,” John murmured, rubbing his thumb just shy of the scrape on my head.

I flinched away from his touch, shoving his arm away from me by the forearm, “And? That’s part of the job.” I laughed spitefully, “What do you think happened before we started this mess? I got hurt a lot.”

His jaw clenched and clenched repeatedly, his fingers circling around my wrist over my chest, “Still, I could hav—”

“Done what? Protected me? Why do you care so much?” I spat. I was getting tired of this conversation and the insinuations that I needed his help for the most mundane jobs. I took the opportunity to slap the elevator button next to me.

John was silent, as I expected him to be. He didn’t care, that’s what the funny part was. All this fussing because our little game could have been in jeopardy, his fantasies interrupted, and his guaranteed fucks cut off for good.

“That’s what I thought,” I wrenched myself away from his grasp, my chest aching with emotion as I turned my body away from him and slid into the elevator.

The elevator doors began to slide shut but opened once again when a hand slid in between them, trusting that the door would do its job and open again. They did, and not surprisingly, John was on the other side of them. I reached out, smashing the buttons for random floors before he could get a glimpse of what I had chosen originally. He strode in, attempting to back me against the wall once more but I stayed firmly in place this time.

“I care about you,” he whispered, flicking his eyes away from my face as he spoke.

I couldn’t help but feel unaffected by his words as he couldn’t even look me in the eyes. I felt scornful laughter bubble up in my throat, begging to be released. So, I did. I laughed, hard, “John, you don’t even know what that word means.”

I couldn’t see the hurt in his eyes, even if I wanted to. He was hardly readable unless he was angry. The elevator ride dragged on as I avoided looking at him, which was hard as he was literally pressed against me. I knew if I dared to look in his eyes, I’d either be a fool and believe him or breakdown all together and risk crying. John’s hand snuck around my waist, increasing the pressure between our hips while he dropped his lips to my ear. I couldn’t even begin to express how much I wanted him to continue.

“Stop,” my brain betrayed me, ordering him firmly with a hint of a crack in my voice.

His movements froze perfectly, as if I was his remote control. The elevator dinged, prompting me to slip out of his grasp.

“Good night, John,” I sighed, walking past him and out of the elevator.

I groaned in frustration the second the door of the room shut behind me. I had to climb a few extra flights of stairs just to make sure I wasn’t followed. I was careful taking my weapons off but ripped at my clothing in frustration. Who was I kidding? I couldn’t tear ballistic lining. I took a deep breath, shrugging my clothes off and throwing them in a pile. I stood under the hot spray of the shower head for far too long, my skin eventually going numb to the water.

I wrapped myself in a towel as I exited the bathroom, sending a passing glare to one of John’s undershirts that he’d mistakenly left with me weeks ago. I’d been avoiding it like the plague, knowing it probably still smelled like him, and I wasn’t about to torture myself like that. Fuck, did I miss his scent, though. I mentally kicked myself as I dropped my towel and slid the soft shirt over my skin. The scent made me dizzy and all I wanted to do was lay down and wallow for the next month.

I grabbed my personal phone, dreading turning it on, but I wanted to listen to music. I turned it on, grabbing my wireless headphones while the phone powered on. I immediately unlocked it and clicked the music app, the phone stuttering as the app fought for processing power with the slew of missed messages and other startup processes.

“Hey, I have a contract.” “Guess, you'll miss out, then.”

I clicked on a heavy metal band, craving the harsh music and screaming vocals.

“Can I see you?” “Are you okay?”

I snapped the headphones over my head, frustrated when I didn’t immediately hear music.

“Y/N, it's been days. Are you okay?” “Are you hurt?” “I'm not fucking around. Are you hurt?”

I fiddled with the controls, soon giving up and throwing them against the wall with an audible “crack”.

“Did you seriously bribe Charon?”

I grabbed my wired headphones, plugged them in, and laid down.

“We all need that person who can be true to you I left her when I found her And now I wish I'd stayed 'Cause I'm lonely and I'm tired I'm missing you again oh no”

 “Are you fucking kidding me?” I rolled my eyes, skipping the song.

“Seize the day or die regretting the time you lost It's empty and cold without you here, too many people to ache over”

Skip.

Finally, a wailing electric guitar sounded with heavy drums. Harsh vocals graced my ears, allowing me to settle my head back into my pillow as I closed my eyes. I tapped to the beat with my fingers on my stomach, fighting the urge to belt out the lyrics.

“I'm not insane, I'm not insane I'm not insane, I'm not, not insane Come back to me, it's almost easy”

 My eyes shot open, my face contorting into a scowl.

Skip.

A piano started out for the next song, causing me to rip my headphones from my ears and throw my phone across the room.

“I asked for metal, not to shuffle all the fucking ballads!” I seethed at my empty room.

I grabbed the pillow next to me, throwing it over my face and pressing down while letting out frustrated growls. The lack of air only made it worse, my brain immediately imagining the way John’s hands fit around my neck. The way his hands knew just how to cut off the blood supply, making me dizzy until…

I threw the pillow down to my side, my chest heaving wildly. I rubbed my hand over my face, pressing my fingers into my forehead in an attempt to calm myself.

 Meanwhile, John was stalking grumpily back to the front desk.

“Is Winston in?” he asked Charon curtly.

“The manager is in the lounge,” Charon replied in his typical voice, not letting John's tone affect him.

“Daisy,” John called, an eager, full-grown beagle running out from behind the desk to greet him. He gave her a brief rub, before having her follow him to the lounge.

He immediately took a seat in the booth across from Winston, Daisy sitting obediently on the floor next to him.

“What room is she in, Winston?” John asked, taking a lighter tone with the older man.

“I’m afraid I’m sworn to secrecy, Jonathan.”

If looks could kill, Winston would be buried five times over, “Why is she acting like a child, like this is a fucking game?” he growled.

“Because that’s what it was, wasn’t it? A game?” Winston raised his eyebrows.

John stewed in silence, accepting a glass that Winston slid over to him cautiously.

“You feel something for her, don’t you?” Winston chuckled.

“Winston…” John warned.

Winston grew serious, “If you want her, go after her.” He paused, thinking over his words for a moment, “You know what needs to be said, Jonathan, but can you say it? She may hide behind humor, but she has feelings just like anyone else. Even you.”

John downed the glass in one gulp, standing and leaving the table. Daisy followed him to the elevators without a care. He ushered Daisy into the elevator, clicking the button for the floor I’d gotten out on earlier. He knelt in front of her, pulling out a piece of fabric and letting her sniff it thoroughly to separate John’s scent from mine.

“Seek,” John commanded as the doors slid open.

It took a while, but three floors and a couple false alarms later, Daisy plopped down in front of room 536. She looked up expectantly at John, receiving a head scratch for her efforts.

“You sure?” he asked Daisy, who simply stared at him.

John’s hand hovered over the door, fist curled tightly and ready to knock. He stopped before his fingers could meet the door, uncurling his hand and letting his fingertips touch the door with a sigh. What would he even say? I’m sorry, I have trouble expressing myself? He shook his head, letting his hand slide down the door and fall. His tongue travelled over his lips before he stalked away. If all else failed, he at least knew the room number.

 I woke up extremely late the next day, having not been able to fall asleep for a while last night. In my sleepy haze, John’s scent filled my nose, making me smile and reach out for him. My hand met cold sheets, causing my eyes to fly open in shock. I looked down at the offending shirt, letting my head fall back against the pillow. I threw my covers off, grabbing my, thankfully intact, phone. I plugged it in to charge, scrolling mindlessly for some time until I saw a notification drop down.

“Meet me at the bar,” John typed. I clicked it, my first mistake, since he would see that I’d read the message.

“No.”

“It wasn’t a question. Meet me at the bar, now,” he responded, making me let out a defiant huff, “Please.”

That was all it took for me to break. My walls all washing away with one word rarely uttered by him. I heaved myself up, throwing on my suit from last night. It was still the Continental after all, I couldn’t go around wearing whatever. I fixed my hair to the best of my abilities, under such short notice.

The walk to the bar was nerve wracking, my palms sweating as I wondered what he was going to say. He was probably going to end it because I’ve been a child the past week. The drama probably pissed him off. I wouldn’t blame him, it was my goal after all. That didn’t mean it wouldn’t hurt coming from him, though.

I spotted him easily, no one daring to sit next to him as per usual. I slid in to the seat next to him, accepting the glass he slid over to me, “You have until I finish this,” I murmured, lifting the glass to my lips. He glared at me, telling me he was serious, “So, was this your last resort? Get me drunk so I’ll fuck you, or what?”

He actually looked offended at my words and I immediately wished I could take them back.

“Honestly? My last resort was going to be kicking your door in and tying you up until you told me what’s crawled up your ass,” he murmured, his voice husky from the alcohol.

“You don’t know my room number.”

“Five thirty-six,” he said proudly, tilting his head smugly.

“Who told you?” I grumbled.

“Beagles are great trackers,” he shrugged, glancing down at Daisy, who I hadn’t noticed until now.

“You used Daisy against me?” I refused to let a smile spread over my face. “Traitor,” I glared at the dog before petting her gently.

I rested my arms back on the bar, letting silence fall between us. His hand curled around mine, sending my heart rate into overdrive. I couldn’t give in. I retracted my hand from his, grabbing my glass and taking a long sip.

“What are we doing, John?”

“We’re having a drink,” he stated the obvious, closing his hand and bringing it back toward his body after the rejection.

“You’re unbelievable,” I scoffed, rolling my eyes and downing the last of the glass. I pushed my chair back, so I could stand, but was stopped with his hand taking mine before I could pull it off the bar top.

“Please stay,” his gravelly voice was full of emotion for once.

My heartstrings tugged at his words, the words I’d wanted to hear last week, and I immediately sat back down. He was silent, but I could almost hear his mind working, so I stepped in. The alcohol was already loosening my tongue, making what I was about to say a little easier.

“Look,” I sighed, “I know this was supposed to be all fun and games. I know it was just sex or stress relief, or whatever for you.” I flailed my hands as I nearly lost track of my words, but recomposed myself, “I—It turned into something more for me. I—,” my voice wavered as he finally turned his head to lock eyes with me. “I fell in love with you.” His mouth moved like he was going to say something, but I held my hand up to stop him, “This was supposed to be me ending the arrangement or forcing you to end it, so it wouldn’t hurt me as much later. I’m sorry for not dealing with it better.”

I took a shaky breath, willing myself to breathe normally after the confession. His hand came up to my face, brushing his thumb across my cheek. My eyes stung with tears at the gesture, but I held back as much as I could and turned my head away. My head immediately snapped back in his direction as I heard his voice speak in my direction.

“You managed to do something only one other person has done before,” he smiled sadly as he remembered his late wife. “You pulled me out of the darkness that I’d been holding onto since she died and I didn’t know how to function without it,” John murmured. “I didn’t want to fall for you.”

I nodded, pulling my face away from his hand as I felt a tear escape my eyelids. I clenched my fists, stood, and swallowed the lump in my throat, “I’m really sorry for all this.”

“Y/N,” he called my name softly, his heart breaking with the presence of tears, “I didn’t want to fall for you, but I did. I need you.” His fingers curled around my fist, “Fuck, I love you and I wanted you stay that night, I really did. If you’ll let me, I won’t let you leave again.”

I uncurled my fist, letting my fingers latch onto his. I gave him a gentle tug, telling him to come with me. The three of us entered the elevator, John’s hand never leaving mine the entire trip. My room was closer than his, so I pressed the button for my floor and led him to the room.

Once inside, I lost all train of thought but felt him bring be back to earth as he led me toward the bed. His hands snuck under my jacket, pushing it from my shoulders and letting it land on the floor. He shrugged his own jacket off and pulled his tie loose, letting both items drop unceremoniously. He toed his shoes off, mine soon joining his in the pile. I watched intently as he unbuckled that damn belt and slid it from his belt loops. He held it for a moment, gripping the leather so tightly it creaked before discarding it on the floor, as if it meant nothing. His arms wrapped around my waist, his forehead dropping until it met mine.

John's lips spread into a gorgeous smile, bringing one to my face by default. He sat on the edge of the bed, taking me with him so I was standing between his legs. I held his face in my hands, pressing a loving kiss to his chapped lips.

When I opened my eyes, John was clutching his used undershirt in his fist, a grin spread wide on his face, “What’s this?”

“You know what it is, doofus,” I rolled my eyes.

He brought it to his nose, inhaling deeply and chuckling, “You wore it to bed.”

I squinted my eyes at him, ripping the shirt from his hand and tossing it behind me. He let himself fall back against the bed, adjusting himself until his feet were no longer off the edge. He opened his arms to me, my body gravitating into his arms and fitting snugly against his side. I draped my leg over his and buried my face into his shoulder in an attempt to get comfortable with these garments still on. A lovesick smile took over my face as I felt his lips press against my forehead. The bed shook slightly as Daisy jumped onto the mattress and curled into his other side. His fingers sifted through my hair, lulling me to sleep as the emotional weariness got the better of me.

For once, since the arrangement, I didn’t have to worry about falling asleep next to him or fear over staying my welcome. I was staying, and so was he.

#john wick x reader #john wick fanfic #john wick imagine #john wick x you #john wick fanfiction

[cats-soft-sanctuary]

Modern AU: Arthur Morgan x Reader

This is a modern AU where Arthur Morgan is a barista at your local coffee shop 

I hope you guys enjoy, and i’m always open to criticism as this is my first written work going for other eyes to see. 

Thank you, enjoy! 

Every day before heading to work, you always had to stop somewhere and get something to drink, whether it be coffee, tea, or a smoothie, it simply depended on your tastes that day, as well as your budget. Of course, you could always go to top chains such as Starbucks, but your loyalty to your favorite coffee shop - and your wallet, always brought you back to the same place you've been going to for about a year now. You became such a friendly face to see come and go, and the barista who worked there seemed to always know your tastes before you do. It was almost like a routine. One morning, you came in and your hair was just ever so slightly out of place, and the barista grinned, and started mixing up a batch of your favorite coffee, before you even had a word out of your mouth. Or when you'd stop in after work on a hot Wednesday afternoon, the barista would immediately make you a nice smoothie to calm your frayed nerves, and let you rest on the couch and watch some kids play board games. The shop was minute and comfortable, with the walls being a soft beige color, paintings hanging across the wall to draw in some color. Fairy lights hung from the ceiling, in a fashion that wasn't over the top, but instead, it always drew you in with the pleasant round shape, fitting any kind of aesthetic. At night was when they shined best, emitting a warm glow that would promptly soothe any oncoming customers coming in after work when the sky was turning dark. But today was different. You walked in, and instead of seeing your usual barista's sweet and friendly smile, you were greeted with another person, with a calm smile. His eyes were focused on the lady before you, a certain kindness held in the bluish green orbs that almost pulled your feet before your brain could understand what was going on. The corners of his eyes crinkled slightly, showing a bit of his age, even with such a calm and delicate smile. His face was nearly-neatly shaved, only a little stubble there, which for most men it made them look exhausted, but on this man, it was as if God looked down and smiled, and decided that this angel of a man should have the perfect amount of stubble to make any girl swoon. His light blue dress shirt clung to his body in a gentle mix of form fitting and soft looseness around his hips, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows in a casually cute fashion. You could tell he was wearing some dark jeans, which he somehow pulled them off perfectly to match the professionalism look he was going for. To tie everything together, he was wearing a light gray apron above it all, with the store’s name printed onto it.

"Ma'am?" A gentle voice called out before you, and only now did you realize that the lady before had moved, and the man was calling out to you now. As your cheeks started to burn, you stepped forward and ordered your normal coffee- which you suddenly decide you didn't actually need. Your heart already seemed to be racing, and you didn't really need coffee to add onto that. But you didn't say anything, already feeling as if you've complicated the man too much, even though the truth was far from that. The man chuckled softly, the sound light and airy, perhaps even a little musky, and it almost seemed as if it didn't belong to him. You even glanced to the side to see if anyone else had been laughing, before resting your eyes on him to confirm the truth. "Is your name (Y/N) perhaps?" He asked, his eyes shining with a bit of intrigue as his head tilted slightly, his hands grabbing a cup to write your order on it. A momentary expression of shock crossed your face, and suddenly for a moment you became more nervous than before. As if noticing your expression, his expression softened, his eyelids lowering slightly as he looked at how your face showed your emotion, his lip ever so slightly tilting down. "The owner told me who you were, said you were a regular. I recognized the coffee order she told me about." He said, his tone showing his worry that he had frightened you, and even a bit of embarrassment mixed in as well. Upon his explanation, you seemed to relax, a smile creeping up your face. "Yes, that's me." You said, your shoulders slumping into a relaxed state, not even having realized before how tense they had been since you walked in. The smile on the man's face widened upon seeing yours, a memory that, unbeknownst to you, he'd keep under lock and key. "My name is Arthur Morgan. It's nice to meet you, ma'am." He said, and with that, he finally began to brew your coffee. The sweet smell of caramel filled your nose, causing you to bite your bottom lip in attempts to hide the smile as you watched Arthur delicately work the machine, seeing his expression contort to one of pure focus, yet almost seemed calming. His eyes were squinting, as if he was focused on one thing only, and that was your coffee. Wishing to perfect it for you, with the perfect amount of sugar, cream, and everything you desired. You noticed quickly that despite a sight many would consider mundane, your heart decided that this scene, was your favorite amongst many others. Seeing a man who looked like he could be a complete womanizer, making your coffee. It was also the fact that he wasn't a womanizer that intrigued you. Arthur seemed like a man who didn't realize how many women he could have if he wanted, in fact, you felt somewhere deep inside you that this man didn't even know his self worth. But it was too early to actually tell if that statement was true. "Here you go. That'll be $2." Arthur said, handing the coffee to you. "Can you try it and make sure it's good?" He asked once you took the warm cup, your fingertips brushing softly against his. As he requested, you brought the cup to your lips and took a sip, your eyes flickering to his while your taste buds tried to figure out if the drink was either too sweet, or too bitter. Arthur seemed a bit nervous, and you noticed he bit his lip ever so slightly that you almost didn't see it. However, once you put the cup down and a bright smile came across your features, a spark of joy crossed his expression. "The best I've had so far." You said, your tone sweet and genuine. You were actually telling the truth, however, if it was because of the maker, you weren't sure. "I'm glad." Arthur said with a sheepish grin, his eyes flickering down to the counter as a light red tint came up in his cheeks, appreciating the compliment. "It was really nice to meet you, Mr. Morgan." You said, handing him the two dollars, as well as another two dollar tip. "I hope we meet again soon." You said, brushing a bit of your (h/c) hair back, smiling softly. "I hope so too." He said, those beautiful blue eyes locking with your (e/c) ones, and for a moment, a connection began. It wasn't until you felt compulsed to move due to another person arriving behind you, that you forced yourself to break the connection.

"Have a nice day." You shyly said, your cheeks rising to your smile as gave a sheepish wave with your free hand, and headed to the door. "Hey, (y/n?)" Arthur called out before you could step out, peaking your interest as you looked back. "Yeah?" "Call me Arthur." He said, and for some reason, a bubbly feeling grew in your stomach. How could such a simple encounter leave you dreading work, but for the wrong reason. The reason being that you wish you could stay and chat with the man you met only a few minutes ago. Your smile grew wider, a soft laugh passing your lips. With a happy sigh, you nodded to him. "Sure thing, Arthur." With that, you turned the silver handle and hopped out onto the streets, the sky painted a beautiful orange and pink, eager to wake up the rest of the world. You squinted your eyes as you looked up to the beautiful colors, the smile you had given Arthur remaining.

Today, was going to be a good day.

#red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #red dead redemption fanfic #red dead fandom #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan fanfic #arthur morgan #reader inser #modern a #modern arthur morgan #rdr2 fanfic #rdr2 fandom

[realityhelixcreates]

Lasabrjotr Chapter 19: It Was A Bad Idea

Chapters: 19/? Fandom: Thor (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe Rating: Teen And Up Warnings: Mentions of fear of sexual assault Relationships: Loki x Reader (Oops) Characters: Loki (Marvel), Reader, Brunnhilde, Thor, Additional Tags: Post-Endgame: Best Possible Ending (Canon-Divergent),  Ohhhh, now you fucked up!, Now you fucked up!, Now you fucked up!, You have fucked up now!, Now you have fucked up! Summary:  Loki fucks up.

The meetings weren’t as boring as advertised, but you thought that was mostly because you weren’t meeting with Asgardians, whom you didn’t understand, but with other humans.

These were Icelandic officials, come to talk about such important but mundane things as zoning laws, environmental policy, and judicial jurisdiction. Loki spoke English for you the entire time, and, surprisingly, all of the officials could also speak the language. It was so refreshing to be able to understand everyone in the room, and to be among other humans.

The differences between humans and Asgardians seemed slight on first glance, but spending so much time among them was making you familiar enough to notice. They were all taller on average, than the human average, and from the snippets you had learned, they were heavier too. Your theory was that their bones were made of something different than yours; that their muscles and organs were denser, and that contributed to their preternatural durability, speed, and strength. Their eyes seemed deeper than human eyes, the colors more saturated, they caught more light, and reflected it differently.

You learned a lot about geothermal energy during the meeting, and decided that it was amazing. You couldn’t help but wonder if American volcanoes could be harnessed in that way. Probably, but the battle with oil companies would be very vicious. That was probably why it hadn’t been done already.

These officials were unexpectedly eager to see that you were well, which you suspected was a good part of the reason Loki had dragged you along. It was more than likely that some of these people were reporting on you back to your government, or maybe just to the Avengers and their peripherals.

It made you feel important, but you didn’t like it very much.  It sure hadn't protected anyone from that murderer. And getting too much attention had never gone well for you.

Still, they were polite, and they didn’t stare at you, or make you feel as if you didn’t belong there, which was a pleasant change.

After the meeting, Loki took you to the kitchens, finally showing you where they actually were. The two of you left with a bowl of sliced fruit, and cups made of cow horns, filled with very sweet, very strong coffee.

“Did they have coffee on Asgard?” You asked.

“No. This is one of Earth’s grand inventions. Some of our people are going non-alcoholic, if you can believe that.”

‘Our’ people? “I can believe it. Earth has a lot of tasty things to offer. No doubt everyone will get to experience a lot of new flavors. Better watch your health though. Humans are kind of sugar-crazy.”

“Speaking of which, dinner will be a little late tonight. This-“ He held up the fruit bowl. “should see you through. We are going to go practice magic now, and I know you will need it.”

He wasn’t wrong. Practicing magic was exhausting in a way that was different from any other exhausting thing you had ever done. It was surprising how hard you could sweat when you technically weren’t doing anything physical.

“You should start an exercise regimen.” He suggested. “Since you are no longer ill, or injured. There is no scar?”

“Saldis said there wasn’t.”

“Very good.” He seemed proud about that, as if he had done anything. “Then yes, start exercising. It doesn’t have to be anything severe, but energy flows easier through a fit body.”

You made the mistake of looking him over when he said that, and he gave you an absolutely wicked grin. You drew back from him, from the little bits of fruit he was offering. Tempter. You could remember just how ‘fit’ he was from the bath. Terribly, enticingly ‘fit’.

But you couldn’t think like that. You couldn’t let yourself accept that. You couldn’t prove the killer right.

You still hadn’t had a bath. And now you were all sweaty and gross. Maybe you could squeeze one in before supper.

You started grabbing your own fruit from the bowl, to the seeming disappointment of your tutor. Let him be disappointed. You weren’t some pet, to be hand-fed.

Try as you might, you could not replicate the teleportation magic you had performed before; you couldn’t even come close. Loki told you not to worry about it, that it was a very tricky bit of magic to pull off, that you had probably only been able to do it because of the extreme duress you had been under. As if he understood!

Well, maybe he did. Maybe he really did know what it was like to feel helpless under the whims of someone who far outstripped him in power. To be in the clutches of someone so dangerous, and be unable to just go home.

Then why was he doing the same thing to you?

I couldn’t be that he didn’t know, could it? Surely he wasn’t so oblivious that he didn’t see your fear? He was just playing a game with you; you couldn’t lie to the god of lies, he had to know!

Then what was he waiting for?

Was he trying to drive you mad?

It was working.

                                                                     *****

“Are those new bedclothes?” Andsvarr asked. “They are very nice.”

“They certainly are.” Saldis held the long robe up, its silky flow catching the light. “Bespoke, for once. She’ll finally be getting some nice things, with this new court appointment. The ladies are excited to get to work. After all, how often have we gotten to outfit a mortal? Once, in the past thousand years? Everyone wants to get in on this opportunity.”

“Looking for a promotion?” Andsvarr teased.

“You know I am.”

“Well, I hope you get it. But will you be too high then, to dance with a simple guard?”

“Says the heir to a noble house.”

“When I stand here, I am the same as any recruit.”

Saldis snorted. “Fancy sentiment, from the personal guard of the Crown Prince’s quarters.”

He wilted a bit. “Aw, come on, Saldis. Everybody knows his Highness only chose me to pacify my father.”

“Then for once, his Highness’ careful plans have failed.”

Andsvarr scowled. “Everybody knows that too.”

“Now let me in, I have to deliver this before she comes back to sleep. And if you want to dance with me during Buridag,” She added, as he opened the door. “Then ask me in a less pathetic way.”

                                                                                     *****

You basked in the soft smoothness of your new pajamas with great satisfaction. Sure, they were green, like every other scrap of clothing you had worn in the past few months, but they were otherwise perfect. So soft. So smooth. So much nicer than your old dollar store set.

Your bathrobe was still here, and Loki most definitely was not. You could get a bath now if you wanted.

When you reached the door, however, there was a little sign hanging from the knob.

‘Out of Order’.

Out of order? What, did his Highness clog the drain with his perfect hair? You snatched the sign from the doorknob. There was something on the back. It was directions, hastily sketched, to the nearest back-up bath. It looked like it was in someone else’s quarters, just up the hall. Well, it seemed that if you wanted a scrub, this was where you needed to go.

You headed out, with a wave to Andsvarr, and ambled up the hall. There was another guard to get by, who stared down at you severely, until, curious to see what would happen, you showed him your branded hand. He examined it briefly, then nodded, and opened the door. He even gave you a small bow, which you awkwardly returned.

This place was fancy. Well-furnished in warm colors, it gave off an atmosphere of simultaneous coziness and importance. There were partially finished murals on the walls; three men, a few women, a man and a woman together, some landscapes…And the Avengers, idealized, appearing as Asgardian nobles, alongside Thor.

Were you in the kings’ rooms? Why on Earth would you be rerouted here over something so simple as a broken bathtub? Come to think of it, Loki had never led you up the hall from his rooms, only down, away from here. Probably because ‘here’ was very, extremely, exceptionally off-limits.  But the guard had let you in, and not even reluctantly. He must have had instructions to allow you in here.

It was kind of Thor, to indulge his brother like this, and to show you such special treatment. You didn’t talk to the king very often, usually only at the occasional group dinner you attended, and he was always polite. You couldn’t help but wonder though, if pity had something to do with it.

He had always been one of your favorite Avengers. So noble and strong, the deific alien, come to protect a world not his own, even from his own family, simply because it was the right thing to do. It had been easy to get caught up in the romance of it all.

Romance. Ha. Not for you. Not here. These people were an entirely different species, who would live nearly infinite lives. There was no one for you here. You also would likely not be leaving here either, so you’d better put any hopes for love on the back burner.

You couldn’t let yourself think of it. Not with the way Loki loomed large in your life, made your heart speed and your fear spike.

You stopped to examine a landscape featuring a colorful, glowing bridge, spanning an ocean out to a golden satellite. You had no idea what it was, but it was beautiful, and mysterious, and very alien. Just like…

You had to get a grip on yourself. Having a personal weapon should have helped, but the thing was so opulent and important. You weren’t that important. You didn’t want to be important. You didn’t want to be noticed, or famous, or thought about when you weren’t around. It had been like that, ever since the Event. You’d had your fill of being noticed then. It seemed like every single man left in existence had noticed you then, with their talk of ‘rebuilding the species’, when you couldn’t even scrounge up enough food to feed everyone who was left! They were a bunch of apocalypse fantasy enthusiasts with not a lick of sense between them, but they outnumbered you. One of them had even…

Bath. You were sweaty and smelly, and you wanted to stop being those things. You didn’t need to think about the past. You had enough to worry about in the future.

It didn’t take you long to find the bathroom; it was a solid wooden door with gold paint, and the design of a fish with a knotwork tail-just like the one in Loki’s rooms. Unlike that one, this one had a small antechamber where various towels and bathrobes were kept. Did Thor entertain guests here? In the bath?

That was definitely none of your business.

You stripped out of your sleeping gown, and wrapped up in one of the bathrobes. It was way too big for you, of course, but it was comfortable and soft, and you wriggled around in it just a little bit, enjoying the sensation on your skin.

You entered the bath proper through another painted door, and practically dashed to the tub, only skidding to a stop when you noticed that the spacious tub was occupied.

Loki, Thor, and Brunnhilde all looked at you blankly as you slipped, fell hard on your rear, your bathrobe flipping open. You screeched, and pulled it back around you, as Loki began to laugh.

Oh, no, no!

You scrambled to your feet and threw yourself at the door, only to find it locked. No, No!

“Come join us, dear.” Loki’s velvet words closed in behind you. “The water is lovely, and the company has only gotten better.”

“Loki, I don’t think…” Thor began.

“Did you lock the door?” Brunnhilde asked.

“Come take your proper place, _____.” Loki said, patting the water next to him. “It is time.”

Time? Time? Here? Now? In front of the Valkyrie? In front of his brother?

Evil. The God of Evil.

The door was locked. You were trapped, and all the terrible possibilities were right there in front of you now.

Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry.

Though the other two looked a bit confused, Loki was still beckoning you to the tub, still laughing.

Your fury finally rose to match your fear, and something in your mind went off. Fine. Finally. Finally this was happening, finally you could just get it over with and move on with your life!

You stripped the bathrobe off and threw it on the ground, glaring at the tub full of traitors with your arms spread, just daring them to say anything. You stayed where you were though; if Loki wanted you, he could damn well come out and get you.

But he didn’t. Why didn’t he come out and get you? He should be ravishing you right now, you were waiting…

But instead, both he and Thor went wide-eyed and very red, and pointedly looked away. Brunnhilde shrugged.

“Eh, not bad.” She said.

“Shut up.” You snarled, and she raised her eyebrows, leaning back against the edge of the tub. She glanced over at the two blushing men.

“Lookin’ at a lot of cowardice right now, little brother.” She said.

“Loki, what did you do?” Thor whispered.

“She wasn’t supposed to do that!” Loki whispered back. “She was just supposed to be embarrassed and cute.”

“Absolute idiots.” Brunnhilde muttered. “The half-blind and the fully blind.”

“Are you telling me this was another joke!?!” You practically screamed. The men flinched.

Rage burned in every inch of you. The God of Evil!

You stomped into the water, storming right up to Loki, who drew away until he hit the wall of the tub.

“Look at me.” You demanded. He hesitated. “Look at me!”

He very slowly turned his head, allowing his gaze to fall on you. You punched him full in the face.

Your fist flashed with light as it struck, and to everyone’s surprise, Loki rocked back from the impact. So you struck again. And again. And once more before Brunnhilde found her pity and pulled you away.

You burst into tears in her arms, months of fear and internal conflict pouring out. You were so lost in the misery that you didn’t even notice the brothers leave.

                                                                             *****

“I don’t even know what you thought to achieve, Loki.” Thor scolded. “They don’t do public bathing in her country!”

“Well how was I supposed to know? It’s not my fault her species is splintered into all these different nations and cultures! How does anyone keep it all straight?”

“You could have asked her.”

“That would have defeated the purpose.” Loki whined.

“And what was that? To humiliate her? To frighten her? Hadn’t we all agreed that something was wrong with her? Why would you do something to add so much stress on top of her like that?”

“She was supposed to demand to be let out. And then I would let her out, and bring her a gift later, and let her know that it’s okay to bathe with us.”

“Well, that’s not what happened, is it? She was furious, and I think that fury stemmed from fear. She was afraid of us, Loki. We have no idea the damage you’ve done here.”

“Oh, I do.” Brunnhilde interrupted, approaching with her arms crossed. “And it’s so much worse than you think.”

“Where is she?” Loki demanded. “Is she okay?”

“Oh, you care?” Brunnhilde asked. “She’s away. Somewhere else.”

“Please. Is she okay?”

“She was so distraught by this, that she struck you with magic. What do you think? Do you think she’s okay?”

Loki drooped. “No. I suppose not.”

“It’s not just this, you know.” Brunnhilde gestured towards the bathroom, the edge of steel growing in her voice. “It’s not just the prank, which, by the way, was basic and classless. I expect better from you.”

Loki drooped even further.

“What gift did you think you were going to give her, to make this all better?”

“Blue cloak of office.” Loki sulked. “It has our rune embroidered in knotwork on the back. Special trilobed brooch. Something nice.”

“You’re still gonna appoint her? You think she wants that? The attention? The responsibility? You think she wants to spend even more time with you, when you act like this? You think some shiny things are gonna make up for this?”

“It wasn’t that bad!” Loki protested. “She will forgive me. She is very agreeable.”

“You moron!” Brunnhilde scolded. “It isn’t agreeability, it’s survival! She’s afraid to say no to you. You’ve really got no idea, do you? Loki, she’s spent the last two months terrified that you are going to force yourself on her.”

It took a moment to sink in.

“What?” The shock bleached his features further. “I-I don’t do that! I’ve never done that!”

Thor, quiet and shrinking into the background, eyed him apprehensively.

“I know what you’re thinking brother, and the answer is still no.” Loki snapped. “No, not even with a mind-control device in my hand, and a hateful voice in my head. Not even then. I have never done such a thing. Why would she think that?”

“Oh, I don’t know, might have something to do with the massive power imbalance between you. You know, the huge amount of influence you hold over her life? How she doesn’t actually own anything of her own, how it all belongs to you, and how you could take it all away anytime you felt like it?”

“But I’m not going to do that!” Loki insisted. “Her things are hers. Providing for her is a part of my respons-“

“Where the hels were your ‘responsibilities’ back there in the bath?” Brunnhilde snarled. “How can she possibly trust you not to coerce her by holding these things over her head? Where does she sleep, if you kick her out of that empty little guardroom? How does she eat, what does she wear, if you choose to withdraw your beneficence? She wears your colors, our styles. She is surrounded by people to whom she cannot speak. She can’t practice any hobbies, or little things that bring her joy; she can’t even take a walk outside by herself! She uses your toiletries; she even smells like you. She’s been slowly losing her identity, while becoming more and more dependent on you for survival. Her greatest fear is that you will pressure her into bed with your control over all of the things that keep her alive.”

“But I’m not!” Loki protested. “I would never-!”

“She doesn’t know that! Not with you putting your hands on her all the time.”

“But…but that was for her health…”

“You touched her without asking. A lot. It built up. Norns she was trying to tell us this whole time, even if she didn’t understand it herself. The withdrawing. The temper flare-ups. She told us that everyone on her old forums was paranoid, and she told us she was one of them. We just didn’t pay attention to what she was saying.”

“Where is she?” Loki asked, just barely not pleading. “I have to do something. I have to fix this.”

The Valkyrie just shook her head. “Not right now, you don’t. She isn’t gonna want to see you again so soon. She’s going to need time before she can even begin to accept an apology. And you’d better give her one. Not just pretty things to wear, not platitudes or promises. You owe her a boon for all the nonsense you’ve put her through, and it had better be good!”

                                                                                   *****

You were still awake when Brunnhilde came to check on you, even though you had been exhausted by your outburst, and the magic you had expended. You were curled up in the corner of her bunk, blanket bundled around you, the occasional tear still dripping down your cheeks.

“Brought you a sandwich.” She said, setting the plate down on her little end table, and sitting down in her chair, opposite her bunk. “Made it myself. I have no idea what you like on a sandwich, so I tried to keep it simple.”

Your hand snaked out from under the blanket, and snatched the offering. You hadn’t gone to dinner.

“Now, you can stay here as long as you want, or, if you prefer, I can bunk you in with the other Valkyries.”

“I’m not a Valkyrie though.” You said miserably. “I don’t really know what I am now. I’m not a wizard, I can barely do magic. I’m not a baker anymore. Not Asgardian. Not Icelandic. I don’t even know if I’m still American; do they even want me back? I don’t know. Don’t know where to go from here. Maybe I can get a job on the outskirts of the city. That way, I’m not too far away, but not to close either.”

“If it means anything to you, he looked like he’d been stabbed when I told him.”

You groaned. “You told him?”

“Of course I did! He needed to know exactly how badly he’d fucked up. He was horrified at the very thought. Wanted to run right to you and beg forgiveness.”

You stayed quiet for a moment, eating your sandwich.

“I’m sorry.” You finally said.

“You don’t have anything to apologize for-“

“No, I’m sorry. I was wrong, wasn’t I? I should have said something a long time ago, if not to him then to you, or somebody. I was too scared. Confused. And this whole time, I was just getting worse and worse, and it didn't even have to happen. Now I've gone and accused him of something awful, and I hurt him.”

“That isn’t your fault.” Brunnhilde said. “He should have thought about this. How things might look to you, how his actions might make you feel. He shouldn’t have been losing his temper with you, and he shouldn’t have been playing tasteless pranks; he should have been paying attention. When Asgardian nobility decides to foster someone, that person becomes nobility themselves. Loki has experience in that. He’s really dropped the ball here. Don’t you go thinking this is all your fault. Loki had responsibilities to you, and he didn’t live up to them.”

“So…what now?”

“I’m not sure. I think it mostly depends on you; what you want to do. It should have been like that from the beginning. Like I said, you can stay here as long as you want, or we can find other housing for you.”

“It’s not true, is it? I was wrong, wasn’t I? The book said so many things I didn’t want to believe, but I didn’t know what was true.”

Brunnhilde tilted her head. “What book?”

“The mythology book Saldis gave me. It talked about all of you. It said frightening things, but the way he acted made me think it might be true…But it’s not?”

“It’s not. He was very adamant about that.”

“Then... I’ll go back. To my room. His room. Eventually. Not yet though, I don’t feel right. I’ve got to think about some things.” How to apologize, for one.

“You ought to sleep on it for now. Think about things tomorrow, when you’ve had a chance to clear your head.”

You nodded, and stretched out on the bunk. “I’ll try, okay?”

“You do that.” She said. “If you need me, I’ll be right outside.”

#loki x reader #loki (marvel) #thor (marvel) #brunnhilde (marvel) #valkyrie (marvel)

[jcmorgenstern]

*ep18spoilers* man i have such mixed feelings about crispy-chan. The way the heroes treat him is chilling-keeping him in chains is torture, and the way Luke says 'muzzle him' like dude, he's Jocelyns kid, and he's basically mentally handicapped because of what his parents put him through). Like i know he did what he did, but he's like a child soldier with heavy trauma and ptsd like idk man they should give him a psychiatrist while keeping him in cell, not torture him and lock him up again 😢

Yeah tbh my feelings were kind of complicated here too! Like, obviously I have a huge bias, and I don’t want to loose sight of that, but yeah the whole “torturing lilith is cool now” thing combined with elements of that scene def made me sad and a little ://// but tbh that’s far from the most screwed up thing they did in this show or even this episode

but yeah I’m not 100% sure how I would write Luke in this situation either?? Like obvs he’s on Clary’s side in this situation, and would probably come at it with that bias, but again they overlook the whole thing where he was VALENTINE’S PARABATAI like. the LITERAL OTHER HALF OF HIS SOUL was bonded to valentine and even if jocelyn couldn’t see past that I don’t think Luke would see things the same way. we know from 2a that he still had feelings about the bond with val even if val didn’t deserve them (that’s one of the most underrated scenes in the whole show to me, btw) and like….while I don’t think Luke would be like “aww sweet baby boy” I don’t think he would be quite so callous, either. For Luke I think there would be a sense of heaviness but he would do it for Clary, and ultimately prioritize her over Jonathan–he raised her, not him, and Jonathan DID hurt Clary.

Personally I want to know what they would have done if it had worked and Jonathan lived and is now a mundane (or a regular shadowhunter). Like….idk, send him to prison? kill him? try to wipe his memory? turn him into a coatrack? so many unanswered questions.

personally I think if i ever explored that, I’d want to see Luke and Maryse in charge of….”rehabilitation?” “adult baby-sitting?” “ex demon boy house arrest?” and the two of them working out their complicated feelings about valentine, jocelyn, the circle, and luke maybe finally getting to grieve jocelyn and ultimately getting closer to Maryse in a meaningful and believable way. and of course jonathan being a brooding, horrible, dramatic little hoe. im talking full on victorian gothic. moaning, brooding, hauntings, hysterical screaming, all of it.

also to the child soldier bit: I do definitely agree, and I think one of the most under-examined parts of both his and jace’s character IS the fact they’re child soldiers. It’s why that one post that says jonathan is a psychopath STILL to this day pisses me off, and i took two whole-ass courses just to prove it wrong. (and it IS wrong. so wrong. so fucking wrong). like one of the CORE features of a psychopath (which btw is not a dsm-5 disorder) is shallow emotional affect, both internally and externally, which means “neither experiences nor really expresses emotions outwardly” and……look, if jonathan’s emotions are a box of crayons, he’s grabbed all of them together in his fist and is scribbling frantically like a 4 year old on crack. he doesn’t even remotely fit that bill. and like having low empathy and remorse is exactly what’s observed in child soldiers (real, actual child soldiers, not fake-ass angel/demon fantasy child soldiers).

honestly idk if jonathan actually fits the bill for ptsd–i feel it’s a misconception that trauma always leads to ptsd even in severe cases (though it often does, and the mechanism why is not well understood). I did recently start to wonder if the fits the bill for borderline personality disorder (side note: that’s the most incorrectly self-diagnosed/lay diagnosed disorder and is HIGHLY stigmatized so i really hesitate to slap that label on a shitty villain, but in terms of symptom profile it probably fits best. anyway just to reiterate: borderline people are lovely honestly and all the people i know with bpd are fucking amazing so….ignore all that bs in popular media about it, it’s shit). also people with bpd are very very likely compared to the population average to have experienced childhood abuse so like idk man u decide for yourself. i was going to put all this in my huge developmental writeup but i haven’t mustered the energy yet

I do see why they lock him up given he wants to run off with clary every 10 seconds but honestly i find it comical that they never thought to get a decent therapist in there just to make him talk. literally IN DISGUSE jonathan was physically incapable of shutting up about himself and his past trauma like get a therapist in there and i GUARANTEE he’d tell you literally anything you wanted to know. like idk it just seems more efficient. like ‘‘blah blah blah ill only talk to clary’‘ bull shit we all know after 10 seconds of no one paying attention to him jonathan started telling his reflection in the cell glass how mistreated he was and how he’s the victim like he cannot shut up i love him what a mess

anyway im not sure what you meant referring to mental handicap but if you meant some pretty severe developmental lags….yeah. that whole socialization thing never really …happened. he’s like 90% feral in an adult body with 0 impulse control!!!

also random but i seriously wonder if he was able to keep up with his training in Edom….it always bothered me jace always manages to beat him when seb is (not to be a dirty stan on main but….to be a dirty stan on main)is supposed to be BETTER but i mean if he wasn’t able to keep up with training for like 10 years…it makes sense jace is more on top of his game. it’s gotta hit hard for golden piano boy to be better at the one thing jonathan is ‘‘best at’‘ (and tbh what valentine literally BRED him for) ughh im making myself mad and sad this was a mistake goodbye and goodnight

#this is SO incoherent im sorry #friend anon #i love a crispy boy #crispy chat #welcome to my crispy mind #tbh ''crispy chan'' killed me by #sh spoilers

[gamerwoo]

(Consumed) Sanghyuk: What’s Mine

Characters: Sanghyuk x reader (featuring hakyeon and seungcheol)

Genre/warnings: yandere au, demon au, horror, angst, smut, stalking, violence, manipulation, mention of/implied voyeurism, mention of phone sex, sort of kidnapping (this is a yandere au so things get pretty dark. don’t read it if makes you uncomfortable!!)

Word count: 5,870

Summary: The “opposites attract” phrase fit so perfectly. You were everything he wasn’t: small, innocent, helpless…alive. He assumed that was why he didn’t just want to take your soul and call it a day. He wanted all of you. He wanted you by his side for all of eternity, but he didn’t know how to go about it.

He kept tabs on you without you knowing, but he knew he could reveal himself to you if he wanted to. In fact, he thought maybe it was about time he did before that friend of yours swooped in to sweep you off your feet. Though, he knew he could easily get rid of the boy if he had to, he just didn’t want to have to put you through that pain. But if it would make you be only his, he would do it.

He would do anything.

“Tomorrow,” he decided in a whisper, standing by your sleeping form as his black eyes glared at your phone that was going off with texts from that clingy friend of yours, “tomorrow is when the game begins.”

Consumed Masterlist

It all started with a stupid sleepover. It wasn’t the first time he’d been summoned by young adults but fuck, did people still do this shit at sleepovers? Weren’t you and your friends too old for this? Shouldn’t you have known better?

Well, you didn’t consider yourself apart of it. You sat in the corner of the room, as far away from your friends as you could get. You insisted demons weren’t something to mess with, and your friends mocked you up until one showed up right in front of you.

He stared at your friends boredly as they cowered before him, choking out whatever it was that one of them wanted badly enough that they’d sell their soul. The usual. However, when his black eyes landed on you, the black dispersed to reveal almost equally as dark pupils, his head cocking to one side. You looked so fragile and innocent. There was just something about you that intrigued him. Maybe because you clearly wanted nothing to do with this. It made him want everything to do with you.

“Who are you?” he questioned in his strong voice, though it softened when he spoke to you. “What is your name, mortal?”

You looked up from your knees that you’d been intently staring at, your arms wrapped around your legs to protect yourself -- as if this wasn’t a demon that could do literally whatever he wanted whenever he wanted, “___...”

___.

It stuck with him. And he stuck with you, though you didn’t know it.

For about half a year, he stuck with you. He followed you around, watched you go about your business. Watched you go to work, come home, hang out with friends, and everything in between.

It started out at just a thing he had to do because he needed to collect the soul he was owed. But the more he saw you due to his task, the more he willingly went out of his way to find you and keep watch on you. He’d spend hours away from Hell just to follow you around and watch your mundane life. Yet, despite how boring he found humans, he enjoyed watching. You could just stand in front of a mirror and brush your hair for three hours, and he’d sit there behind you and watch you the whole time and never feel bored.

But things were becoming...difficult. One of your friends -- he wasn’t there when he was summoned, but you were close with him -- was definitely pining after you. He was a boy you’d seemed to know from childhood, named Seungcheol. He had dark hair, dark eyes, and was very broad. He was good looking, Sanghyuk would admit that. However, he would not let some mortal boy steal you away from him. He was a demon, and a well-respected one at that -- a prince, no less. He wasn’t about to let some human walk all over him.

You were his, and only his.

Sanghyuk had a plan. It might not have been a good plan, but it was the best plan he had. He didn’t want to just force you to love him, even if that ordeal would be the most enjoyable one. He figured that plan would only come if the first part didn’t go well; if you didn’t accept him. He wondered if you’d even remember him...

“Hyuk,” Hakyeon’s voice pulled him from his thoughts as he sat in his throne room. The older demon smirked, studying the demon prince. “You’re thinking about that mortal again, aren’t you? ___, right?”

Sanghyuk just scowled, “If you’re here to tease me, you might as well leave.”

“I’m not, I’m not,” Hakyeon reassured him with a light chuckle as he stepped further into the room. “I was wondering if you were planning on leaving again tonight. I need to know when I’ll be left in charge so I can make sure to keep an eye on Ravi.”

“I will be,” the prince nodded, lacing his fingers together before resting his chin on them as he thought. “I will be back not long after, though.”

“Are you sure? You were out all night last night. I know you enjoy watching ___ sleep.”

“Trust me,” Sanghyuk hummed as he finally stood from his throne, “this won’t take long.”

-

Seungcheol scratched the back of his head, padding barefoot down the hall to the living room of his tiny house. He had invited you over and was just waiting for you to come, but he wasn’t sure if he’d said 10:00 or 10:30. His phone was dead anyway, so it’s not like he could check. But he left the door unlocked for you anyway. He always did. He was prone to falling asleep when waiting for people.

He was a childhood friend of yours, but his feelings had grown over the years. How could he not fall in love with you after knowing you so long? But he knew your feelings were either the same or starting to be. He knew your flirting tactics -- he’d seen the over the years, and they were awful -- and you even had ended up pleasuring yourselves over the phone together, so he knew you were into him as well. That thought excited him, though.

Seungcheol paused at the threshold of the living room, remembering that he forgot his drink in the kitchen. He debated going to put the popcorn bowl he held in his arms down on the coffee table, but figured that would just be more walking, and he was too tired to do anything but the absolute minimum, so he turned and went back to the kitchen with a yawn.

He walked through the doorway, his eyes squeezed closed as he stretched. When he opened them, though, he dropped the bowl on the floor, popcorn spilling everywhere as he shouted in surprise.

A taller man dressed in a crisp, black suit with raven hair that was perfectly sculpted was standing before him. He wasn’t even looking at Seungcheol, though he was facing him, fixing the cuffs of his suit. 

“What the fuck?!” Seungcheol gasped, quickly searching around him for anything to use as a weapon. All he had was the empty popcorn bowl on the floor.

The stranger was the one by the counter, standing in front of the knives.

“Hello, Seungcheol,” the man’s dark eyes flashed up to look at the cowering boy.

“How...how the fuck do you know my name?” he asked, is voice shaking though he was shouting to seem less scared.

The man chuckled, “I know a lot of things, like you have something that’s mine -- well, you think you have it, but you don’t.”

“Look, I don’t have anything--”

“Don’t lie to me,” he hissed, his eyes turning completely black.

Seungcheol fell backwards, scrambling back until he hit the wall behind him, “What the hell!”

The man held the palm of his hand out, and Seungcheol was suddenly pulled to his feet and practically thrown into the stranger’s hands by some strong force. The stranger’s hands curled around the collar of Seungcheol’s t-shirt, holding him up so Seungcheol was face-to-face to him, making the shorter boy stand on his toes.

“I don’t like when people try to take things that belong to me,” he growled, his eyes so dark that Seungcheol could see his reflection in them like a pair of sunglasses.

Seugcheol’s eyes darted behind the man, seeing the knives in their holder on the counter. He quickly reached around to grab it, but the man had quicker reflexes. As Seungcheol went to stab at him, the man released his collar to grab his wrist and upper arm, bending the limb the wrong way until the bone snapped. Seungcheol yelled out as the man just smirked, relishing in Seungcheol’s pain.

The knife had clattered to the floor, and the man bent down to get it as Seungcheol collapsed on the floor, cradling his arm to his chest. The man gently tossed the knife into the air before catching it at it’s handle, as if he was having fun with this situation.

He definitely was, but he was quickly growing bored as he did with most humans.

“I’m starting to tire of hearing your whimpers, Seungcheol,” he sighed softly, kneeling down in front of the boy and raising the knife.

Seungcheol was screaming his lungs out for help, hoping someone might hear him. He was praying that you wouldn’t come in, though. He knew if someone else wandered in, they’d be in just as much trouble, so he hoped you’d hear his calls and just call the police.

“There’s no use,” the man chuckles. “You’re going to--”

He stopped, sensing something behind him: you. He slowly turned around, the black disappearing to reveal his dark brown eyes once more. He stood to his feet, the knife still in his hand, and Seungcheol’s collar in his grip once more.

As the man studied you, he saw fear, yes, but he also saw...recognition.

“S-Sanghyuk,” you breathed in a shaky breath, unable to take the steps back that your brain screamed for you to take.

“You know him?” Seungcheol asked, his voice hoarse from yelling and crying.

“Hello again, ___,” Sanghyuk smirked, pleased you remembered his name. “I didn’t expect you to remember me. Then again, I supposed meeting a demon is hard to forget, isn’t it?”

“What-- Why are you here?” you asked, your voice so soft that you didn’t hear it through the blood pounding in your ears. Why did a demon have your childhood friend and the boy you were in love with in his grip with a knife to him? Why was he even here? You never spoke to those friends that summoned him those months ago since that sleepover, but you were sure the demon must’ve gotten the soul he wanted back then. Why was he back, and why was he after Seungcheol? “What do you want?”

Sanghyuk scoffed as if the answer was obvious, “You, obviously.”

“M-me?” you stammered, pointing to yourself.

“Yes, you,” he smiled almost fondly at you before he looked down at Seungcheol, the knife held to his throat while he held him in his grip. “But somebody got in the way. Once I’ve gotten rid of him, then--”

“No!” you blurted, holding a hand out as if you could stop him as you rushed forward. You grabbed Sanghyuk’s wrist despite that being the dumbest thing you could do. How could you stop a demon? “Please don’t hurt him anymore!”

You could already see the sickeningly awkward way Seungcheol’s arm was bent, and how his face was red and tear-stained. You’d heard the yells from outside, and you knew it could be nothing good. You didn’t know why you rushed in without calling anybody, but it was like you knew it was Sanghyuk in here, and you had to finally face him.

You’d been feeling the same shiver ever since you first met the demon prince. It would happen at least once a day at random times, but you never thought much of it other than the odd fact that it started after the sleepover. You never noticed any of your stuff moved or electronics being messed with like people spoke about in those ghost shows on TV. But you felt that same shiver as soon as you walked up to Seungcheol’s door.

And then you heard the yelling.

“I have to get rid of him, ___,” Sanghyuk stated, his eyes going black once more. Then he pressed the knife, a small dent forming in Seungcheol’s flesh. “I suggest you look away.”

“I’ll go with you!” the words fell passed your lips without thinking but with urgency. You didn’t take them back either, even when both boys looked at you.

“Excuse me?” Sanghyuk asked, the knife slowly moving away from Seungcheol’s neck.

“I will go with you, I won’t fight you, and I won’t ever try to escape. I promise,” you listed off, trying to speak calmly between shaky, unstable breaths. “Just please, don’t kill him. I’ll do whatever you ask of me; I’ll be good. Just...please.”

You knew you were digging your own grave, but this was Seungcheol. You knew him since you were in diapers, and you loved him. You would do anything to keep him safe, even if it meant being some sort of prisoner or slave for a demon.

A demon that had some sort of obsession with you.

Sanghyuk’s expression was unreadable as he studied you. You had blocked out Seungcheol’s begging to not do it because you knew you’d break if you listened to his sobs. You had to be strong. You had to do this even if it meant the end of your life as you knew it. It was for him.

“Are you serious?” Sanghyuk asked softly.

You nodded once, managing to keep your voice steady, “Yes.”

Slowly, the demon released Seungcheol, though he still had the knife in his other hand. With his now free hand, he held it out to you.

“___...” Seungcheol’s voice was broken, and you refused to look at him, staring straight ahead at the demon, “please don’t...”

You brought your hand to Sanghyuk’s, his much larger one wrapping around yours. You gave one shake before Seungcheol let out a broken sob, and the corner of Sanghyuk’s lips twitched up into a smirk.

With just one shake, you’d sold your soul to the demon prince, and you were suddenly surrounded by thick, black smoke.

-

It didn’t matter what he did or what he said. It didn’t matter how many gifts he gave, how many times he told you how much he cared for you, or if he fed you all your favorite foods. Even his deep knowledge on everything about you didn’t matter. Nothing could stop you from being miserable, and he knew it. The last month, you’d been nothing but unhappy.

Sanghyuk thought he could fix this within a few weeks. He thought that just doing things he knew you’d like would make you happy, but nothing did. He hoped maybe you’d just fall for him on your own, but that didn’t happen, either. A whole thirty days of your unhappiness was all he had.

“Hyuk,” Hakyeon spoke up as he stood by the door to the throne room, studying the prince, “nothing’s changed. You know you have to do something soon. Your worry for her is distracting you from your business.”

“I know,” Sanghyuk grumbled, not looking at his friend.

“Why haven’t you done anything?”

“Because I wanted to see if she would love me on her own. Clearly, I have to assist.”

Sanghyuk wasn’t sure if this plan would be needed when he originally came up with it, but since you didn’t accept him, he had no other choice. He couldn’t have you constantly miserable, so he had to take action. He’d make you love him, and he’d make you happy with your new life, even if he was doing it by force.

“Have ___ brought to my room,” Sanghyuk ordered, standing up from his chair. He fixed his black tie, his eyes finally drifting over to Hakyeon. “Make sure nobody else touches her. I only trust you with her.”

“Of course,” Hakyeon nodded before leaving the throne room.

Sanghyuk left as well, but he went straight to his room just off of the throne room to prepare for what would take place.

-

You sat in your room silently as always. You didn’t do anything to occupy yourself except sleep and think. Thinking only made you sad, which brought on sleeping, but that was only a temporary solution. You could only sleep so much. You were supplied with books, clothes, snacks -- anything that Sanghyuk thought would make you happy. You used none of it.

Once you’d arrived here, you were given new clothes to wear, but you only wore what you were given on the first day: a simple black, silk dress with thin straps. You went barefoot all the time -- you never got cold, anyway -- and you never tried any of the other clothes brought to you. You didn’t want to touch them.

Your door unlocked and opened, showing the demon that had been watching over you when Sanghyuk wasn’t around. He stepped into the room, his hands clasped behind his back.

“Miss ___,” he said your name like he always did, as if you were somehow held at a higher regard compared to him, “Hyuk would like to see you.”

You didn’t say anything which was expected. You just stood from your bed and walked over to the demon to let him lead you to wherever it was that Sanghyuk was located.

You knew his name was Hakyeon -- he told you that you could call him N -- and that he was Sanghyuk’s right hand man. You at least knew you could trust Hakyeon -- well, as much as you could trust Sanghyuk, which was more than anybody else here -- but it didn’t mean you ever spoke to him. In fact, Hakyeon had never heard your voice before.

You were brought into the throne room, only to see it was empty. Hakyeon led you to a door off to the back, which you knew was Sanghyuk’s bedroom. Hakyeon knocked for you before he heard a soft “come in” from the prince. He opened the door and stepped inside first before gesturing for you to come in as well. You silently stepped into the room, feeling Sanghyuk’s eyes on you.

“Here you are, your majesty,” Hakyeon said in a teasing tone, smirking at Sanghyuk.

“Just get out,” Sanghyuk frowned, waving his friend away.

Hakyeon bowed with a cheeky grin before exiting the room, closing the double doors behind him.

So you were left alone with Sanghyuk. It wasn’t the first time, but this time felt...different. The air felt thicker and tenser almost. You felt like something was coming, but you didn’t know what -- and being in the underworld with a demon prince, it could’ve been anything.

Sanghyuk crossed the room to stand in front of you, bringing one hand up to cup your cheek. You let him, feeling his cold skin against yours. You typically let him do whatever he wanted because you promised to behave, but he never went much further than this. Maybe a few kisses on your forehead, but that was all. He never forced himself on you.

But Sanghyuk already knew today would be different. He could make you think you wanted him, but there was only one way to make you fall for him; make him cloud your thoughts as much as you clouded his. But you’d be okay with it, he already knew.

“I’ve tried so hard with you, ___...” he said softly, almost sounding like he pitied you. “Nothing works, though. You’re too stubborn. I can’t say I’m sorry, though.”

You wondered what he could possibly be sorry for, your heart beating rapidly in your chest just considering what could be coming next. He heard it and smirked to himself. Something in him enjoyed scaring you a little bit. He hoped that after this, maybe there would still be that little piece of you that still feared him despite loving him.

His eyes glossed over, black consuming all color. You stared up at him, wanting to step backwards, but you were frozen in place. You felt your thoughts become jumbled, and the fear for him slowly faded and transformed. He could see it on your face and in your eyes, too. You became less tense, and your eyes showed desperation, like you needed more of him. You were intimidated by him, yes, but you wanted him.

However, hypnotizing you like this could only work so much. Sanghyuk could manipulate you into wanting him for now, but making you love him would take...more. But with the mindset you were in now, he knew you’d be fine with it.

“Get on the bed for me,” he whispered.

Though his voice was soft, you moved with such sureness, it was as if he demanded it in a booming voice. You crawled to the center of the large, round bed, sitting on your knees as you faced him. He smirked, seeing you so obedient, but still having those wide eyes like you were terrified to upset him or set him off. He loved it.

You watched as Sanghyuk slowly approached you, loosening his black tie as his rings shone in the dim light. He put one knee on the bed and leaned over, resting a hand right beside your bare knee. He put his other hand under your chin and slowly brought you in until your lips touched carefully. You wanted more but you didn’t dare kiss him harder unless you were sure he wanted you to.

He pulled away, and you continued to lean forward, chasing after his lips. He chuckled, putting a finger to your mouth to keep you in place.

“Eager, are we?” he teased quietly.

You nodded, wishing you could hear him speak forever. Even just listening to his velvety voice had arousal starting to pool between your legs.

His expression suddenly turned serious, his black eyes staring into your soul, it seemed. But he just had to test his power since it had been a while since he hypnotized a human into doing what he wanted. Especially a virgin human.

“Do you want this, ___?” he wondered.

You nodded again.

He smirked, removing his finger to trace tuck some hair behind your ear, “Use your words, my love. ‘Yes, Sir’ or ‘no, Sir’.”

“Yes, Sir,” you said barely above a whisper.

“Good,” he gave a satisfied smile. “Then lay down for me.”

As you did as you were told, Sanghyuk stood up again to remove his shoes, socks, and jacket. His midnight eyes raked over your body, licking his lips as he removed his tie and discarded it as well.

You couldn’t take your eyes off of him, watching his every move as the air in the room seemed to get thicker and thicker. You just wanted him so badly -- you’d never wanted anything more than having Sanghyuk inside you. You didn’t know why you wanted him so suddenly, but you didn’t question it -- you couldn’t question it. All you could think about was the demon prince before you.

Finally, he crawled onto the bed, sitting above you. His hands found the bottom of your dress, slowly pushing it up. You felt goosebumps cover your skin as you stared up at the man above you, swallowing thickly. You just wanted him to hurry and touch you, but you knew better. You’d keep your mouth shut and obey him.

You lifted your arms for Sanghyuk to completely remove the silk clothing. He tossed it off the bed, leaving you completely bare except for your black panties. But he was more focused on other things, and he’d deal with the material later.

Slowly, he leaned down, ghosting his lips over your skin, traveling up until they just barely brushed against yours. Then, finally, he pressed them together in a kiss that quickly got deeper and more passionate. His tongue grazed your bottom lip before you let him explore your mouth, your hands moving to his hair to pull him closer. He smirked, tugging on your bottom lip between his teeth, making you whimper softly for more.

Everywhere his hands touched you suddenly felt like it was on fire. Tingles pricked at your bare skin as his hands roamed your body, wanting to feel every inch of your soft skin beneath him. He just wanted to live in this moment forever, and so did you, but he knew there would be other chances once this was over.

His lips traveled lower, kissing over the column of your neck before moving over the expanse of your chest and wrapping around one of your nipples. You let a sigh fall from your lips, your eyes closing just to enjoy the pleasure. You felt one of his hands push your thighs apart, so you obliged, letting his fingertips move over the fabric covering your core. His hand dipped into the black fabric, the pads of his fingers covering your clit lightly before rubbing slow circles.

“Sanghyuk,” you breathed, your hips rising ever so slightly just to get him to press down a little harder.

As his mouth moved to suck on your other nipple, he held down your hips with his free hand, looking up at you with his dark eyes that both terrified and hypnotized you, “Don’t move, darling.”

You tried your best to obey, keeping your hips pressed against the mattress as Sanghyuk continued his ministrations. You felt a slender finger dip into your heat, making you moan quietly as your hands raked through his hair. He hummed softly, feeling how warm and wet you were as he slowly pumped his index finger in and out of you. He added a second, moving them just as teasingly slow as he moved his lips up to your neck, nipping and sucking to create red marks so everyone in the underworld would recognize who you belonged to.

A soft whimper passed your lips as his fingers scissored inside you, stretching you out for him. You kept yourself busy as you undid the buttons of his black dress shirt, resisting the urge to buck up your hips and meet his steady movements. Your fingers raked down his toned stomach, going for his belt.

He chuckled lowly, his lips brushing against the spot just below your ear, “Does that feel good?”

“Y-yes, Sir,” you nodded.

“Do you want more, baby?”

“Yes please, Sir.”

He pressed a kiss to that spot before he sat up, “Only because you asked so nicely.”

Sanghyuk reached for your underwear, hooking his fingers through the band and tugging them down slowly. You lifted your hips to help, feeling the cloth slide down your legs before he placed the item in his back pocket with a smirk. You swore that somehow his eyes got darker.

You’d already half-undid his belt, so he undid it completely before he unbuttoned and unzipped his pants. He pulled down his trousers and boxers just enough for his hardening member to spring free. You bit your bottom lip as you watched from where you lay below him, waiting for his next move.

He rubbed himself a few times in languid movements, eyeing your naked body as he did so. Finally he gripped the base of his cock and lined himself up with your entrance, raising his eyebrows as if he was taunting you -- waiting for you to do something. But you stayed obediently still, despite the want to squirm and beg.

“You’re such a good girl for me,” he hummed, though he didn’t move, “just like you promised you would be. You know, good girls get rewarded.”

Finally, he moved, inserting himself into you so tantalizingly slow but it gave you time to feel every wonderful inch of him. He stretched you more than you’d ever felt, but the pain and pleasure of it all just felt too good for you to complain. You tried your best not to move but it was so difficult not to. You mewled softly, your hands flying up to grip his shoulders as he bottomed out.

He didn’t give you any time to adjust, but you didn’t want it. He slowly pulled out almost completely before snapping his hips roughly into yours with a growl, causing you to bite your lip and toss your head back.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he grumbled. One of his hands came up, his thumb pulling your bottom lip out from between your teeth. “Come on, princess, don’t keep those pretty sounds from me. I want you to be nice and loud, understand?”

You nodded, your voice just above a whisper, “Yes, S-Sir.”

All those times he wondered how soft your skin would feel. All those times he pictured your naked body writhing beneath him and begging him for more. All those times that he had to watch you pleasure yourself, moaning out somebody else’s name. Finally, he’d know how it felt to be inside you, how it felt to feel you below him, and finally, you’d be crying out his name instead of somebody else’s.

You were his, and it would be official when he was through with you.

Sanghyuk set a quick pace, wanting to hear you scream for him. All he could think about was every fucking night he’d sit in the corner of your room, watching you and listening to you talk to Seungcheol on the phone. Every fucking time you’d touch yourself for him and moan his name. The thought made him angry; made him want to fuck you until the only thing you could even remember was his own name.

You whined, your hips lifting to meet his as you felt the coil in your stomach starting to tighten, “Sanghyuk--”

You couldn’t even finish your sentence, a loud moan cutting you off as his length brushed against that spot that had your toes curling and your head falling back. His eyes narrowed hearing the noise that you made -- the noise he caused. He wanted to hear it again, brows furrowing as he tried to hit the same spot as one hand went to your clit, the other holding your hip so tightly that you were sure you’d bruise in shapes of his fingertips.

Your skin felt so soft against his, his black eyes scanning up and down your body, loving how nicely it looked when his length disappeared inside you. Everything about you was absolutely perfect, including the faces you made as he continued to thrust into you. He put one of your legs over his shoulder, going deeper at the new angle, and growling in satisfaction at the way you groaned out his name so beautifully. He couldn’t get enough of how amazing his name sounded coming from you, which was good because you were saying it like a mantra by now, so close to your release.

“Don’t cum until I tell you to,” he instructed through slightly labored breaths, his brows pulled low over his eyes in concentration as he studied your face and the way your eyes looked up at him wide and innocent, afraid of disobeying him.

Your brain couldn’t even come up with a response, the pleasure he was giving you too great. His fingertips were pressing hard onto your bundle of nerves before lightening up and teasing you, dragging you farther away from your orgasm before he’d press down again and repeat.

When you still didn’t reply, he lightly gripped your neck instead of your hip, his eyes boring into yours, “Words, babygirl. Come on, tell me you understand.”

“I-I unders-stand, Sir,” you managed to get out between moans and whimpers.

Sanghyuk was oh so close to his own release, but he had to do this at the same time, otherwise it wouldn’t work. Normally, he wouldn’t give a shit if his partner came or not, but this was you and he wanted you to love him like he loved you -- no, he was obsessed with you. Even if this wasn’t a way to get you to share the same feelings as him, he would want you to feel good. He’d want to see your face when you came, and he’d want to hear the beautiful noises and feel you writhe beneath him.

The mere thoughts of you coming undone, along with the way you looked so fucked out with messy hair splayed over the pillow and pupils blown wide as you looked up at him, biting your lip as you tried to hold on -- it was too much for him.

“Fuck, cum for me, ___,” he breathed jaggedly, dipping his head down as he looked at you. “Look at me when you cum -- scream my name nice and loud, baby.”

You clenched around him perfectly, making him groan as he twitched and released inside you. He moved his hand from your throat, holding your hips down as his nails dug into your skin and left crescent moons. Your eyes threatened to close from the wave of pleasure that hit you so hard that you thought you’d drown, but you managed to keep them open, staring up into Sanghyuk’s black eyes as they stared you down.

At the peak of your orgasm, you felt...something. It was something you never felt before, and you thought maybe it was just the euphoria of your high, but even when you came down, your body shuddering from pleasure as Sanghyuk continued to thrust in and out, riding out both orgasms as his other hand played with your clit, you still felt it. It was indescribable, but you knew it was just a strong sense of attachment to the demon above you. You wanted to call it love, but you’d never even felt something this strong with...

You couldn’t even remember the name of the boy you used to love.

You only knew Sanghyuk.

Finally coming down from his own amazing high, Sanghyuk studied your expression carefully, searching your eyes. The way you looked at him -- like you only wanted to think of him, but that hint of fear still somewhere in there -- made him smirk, the black disappearing and leaving him with his dark irises that continued to scan your face with pride. He pulled out of you slowly, smiling softly at the small whine you let out.

“Would you like to go back to your room, or do you want to stay here with me?” he wondered quietly, gently brushing some hair from your face before his fingertips traced your cheekbone.

“Can I stay here with you?” you asked, your voice a tiny whisper.

He smirked, “Of course you can, my love.”

He rolled over beside you, laying on his side before pulling you to him. You buried your face in his chest, wanting to get as close to him as possible. he wrapped an arm around you, using the other to hold his head up as he looked at you, feeling way too proud of himself for doing it. After all those long months of watching you and planning his move, he’d done it.

“Do you miss the other world?” he asked, as he covered the two of you with blood red silk sheets. “Do you miss...him?”

You shook your head, shivering as you felt his fingertips trace patterns on your bare back, “No. I...don’t even remember the other one... I’d rather stay here with you, Hyuk. Am allowed to, right?”

He really had done it. You were his now. You still had that fear, but it wasn’t fear of being near him, it was fear of disappointing him. But you were completely, utterly obsessed and in love with him now.

He hummed in content, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head, “Of course, my princess. You’ll stay with me forever.”

#vixx #sanghyuk #hyuk #vixx au #vixx imagine #vixx oneshot #vixx scenario #vixx fanfic #yandere!vixx #demon!vixx #sanghyuk au #sanghyuk imagine #sanghyuk oneshot #sanghyuk scenario #sanghyuk fanfic #yandere!sanghyuk #demon!sanghyuk #hyuk au #hyuk imagine #hyuk oneshot #hyuk scenario #hyuk fanfic #yandere!hyuk #demon!hyuk

[femmesfollesnebraska]

Artist-Poet Feature: Claudia Serea & Maria Haro

Pleased to feature artist Maria Haro alongside poet Claudia Serea with some of their collaborative work...

Where are you from? How did you get into creative work and what is your impetus for creating?

Claudia Serea:

I was born and raised in Romania, and I started writing poems when I was around 14 years old, in Romanian, of course. I wrote until my third year in college, then stopped. I immigrated to the U.S. in 1995 and took up writing almost 12 years later, this time in English. As for the reasons, I write because I believe I have something to say: my experience growing up behind the Iron Curtain, my immigration story, and the fact that I am constantly moving between two languages and cultures, not fitting perfectly in either of them. I also find inspiration everywhere around me, on New York City streets, in everyday life. I don't have to make up almost anything, just type what I see really fast. :)

Maria Haro:

I was borned in Madrid, Spain. Ever since I remember, I have been creating. My father is also an artist, so I grew up surrounded by art. I started my professional career in 1994 when I moved to New York City after graduating in graphic design.

My impetus for creating has evolved through the years. It started as something I liked to do, then something that I liked and I needed for a living, and now is evolving into something I need to do in order to make sense of it all.

Tell me about Twoxism, your current project and book, and why it’s important to you. What do you hope people get out of your work?

Claudia Serea:

I started the blog Twoxism in 2015 together with my friend, photographer Maria Haro—but the idea is older than that. The project concept came from Maria's friend, the Spanish photographer, Koldo Mirren Guinea Herran. He contributed some excellent photography to our project; he also designed the amazing cover and created the layout of the book. One of the poems I wrote for his beautiful photograph of tools was shared 1,600 times on StumbleUpon alone. I’m sure a lot of its appeal is because of this iconic image. Here it is: 

Sometimes I feel like a mechanic

Sometimes I feel like a mechanic, hammer and wrench instead of hands,

fitting the small parts, turning them this way and that, until they lock together, tight, teeth clenched.

I test the wheels, try the belt, turn the engine on and off, and on again,

listening to the wheezing, the whirr, until it works, and the growl comes on,

and the propeller starts flipping and swooshing,

and the shiny thing lifts into the air and flies into the world,

leaving me behind with my greasy hands and grimy nails,

grinning.

Maria Haro:

Twoxism started as a poetry-photography collaboration blog (www.twoxism.com) for which I took the photos and Claudia wrote the poems they inspired. In April 2017, 33 selections from the blog became an art exhibition that opened in New York City. Recently, Twoxism became a book published in December 2018 by the Canadian press 8th House Publishing. 

Twoxism is an invented word for all things two—among them, love, friendship, and relationships. We had a great response to the blog, with +15K page views and +40K impressions on Twitter and growing. As a project, it finds beauty in unexpected places and sees the mundane with redemptive eyes. As a book, it speaks of love and relationships in a new way. We hope others find it fresh, inspiring, and authentic. I personally started to better understand personal relationships through the photos I take and the lens of the artists who contribute to Twoxism.

Does collaboration play a role in your work—whether with your community, artists or others? How so, and how does this impact your work?

Claudia Serea:

I love collaborating with other artists. Collaboration gives my poems the chance to be shared with and enjoyed by more people. It gives the poem a new life. Apart from Twoxism, I collaborated with film directors who turned my poems into videos. My poem In Those years, No One Slept was set to music for choir by composer Rich Campbell, and the song won the top prize at the 2018 Uncommon Music Festival last August. I have another ongoing poetry-photography project with artist Mike Markham which, who knows, might become an exhibition or book in the future. And Maria and I we’ll keep Twoxism growing as long as it can. We are just getting started.

Maria Haro:

My biggest drive now is to discover what is possible through collaboration, and everything has to have a purpose. I am mostly interested in creating work than helps others using my design, photography, and artistic skills. I always have more projects on my mind that time to execute them and make the best of them. That is where collaboration really makes sense to me. Things are always better together.

Considering the political climate, how do you think the temperature is for the arts right now, what/how do you hope it may change or make a difference?

Claudia Serea:

Creativity knows no limits and no one can contain it, although some might try. The arts are hot in the U.S., and they will always be. Language is also extremely important in shaping our message and connecting us with emotion. Here is a poem from Twoxism that explores language’s important role, accompanied by Maria’s evocative photo:

About languages

In what language does the house painter paint?

Does the wind in Chile speak Spanish to the trees?

Do the gulls over the Hudson River cry Whitman’s verse?

And what about the Statue of Liberty?

In what language does she keep silent?

Coming from Romania, I feel fortunate to be in the United States and share my poems in English with the artists here. Who knew something like this could happen? I never thought I would get here in the first place. We get to write and express ourselves, and that is thrilling to me. I am very grateful for that. In turn, we must fight to open doors for others, and not create in a vacuum. There are countless artists and poets who live under oppressive regimes and don’t get this chance. We need to raise our voices and help them in any way we can. It’s an uphill battle, but I have faith we can contribute to the change.

Maria Haro:

Being an artist is hard, and it will always be, no matter where you are and what political climate you’re in. But it really helps to be in Madrid and in New York City where there is freedom to express yourself and a lot of receptivity to art.

Art is very intangible. You can only break through when you touch the viewer’s emotions and cause disruption. I will continue to try to do that for the rest of my life.

Sense of humor is another great weapon to have. I love to explore through my art the political environment and discover in deeper layers what is really going on and how it translates into our daily lives. Here is a twoxism that illustrates that:

High stakes entertainment

When all of this is over,

we'll have invented a new game,

the American roulette.

All is fair in love and war. So pass the popcorn, the wine, lots of wine, and the remote.

Artist Wanda Ewing, who curated and titled the original LFF exhibit, examined the perspective of femininity and race in her work, and spoke positively of feminism, saying “yes, it is still relevant” to have exhibits and forums for women in art; does feminism play a role in your work?

Claudia Serea:

In Twoxism, we explored the topic of empowering women in several combinations of poems and photographs. The goddess woman, the working woman, the skateboarding girl who is afraid to fall, the mother, the lover, the friend, they all find voices in the book. One of my favorites pieces is “Ode to the warrior woman,” paired with a beautiful photo of red lipstick as a “weapon” of choice by Maria Haro. Here it is:

Ode to the warrior woman

Beautiful woman, the world is still cruel and wild.  Bring out the thunderbolts and don’t be afraid of the fight.

 Put on your lipstick and pull up your boots. Grab your sword and slay the dragons on your way to work.

Walk in knee-high blood on 7th Avenue and don’t let anyone see the quiver in your heart.

 Be kind and smile. Don’t let them see that you’re hurt.

Sharpen your talons, merciless bird.

Woman, you da man, the man’s womb, you da bomb!

 Galaxies explode from your sex,  Milky Way swirls and pours out of your breasts.

Tell the little girl inside you to hush.

Swing the bow on your back and spread your eagle wings.

There is so much to fight for, so much to do.

Put on your lipstick, girl.

The world is waiting for you.

Maria Haro:

There isn’t really a choice for us to demand equal rights for women. It’s mandatory (and I have projects coming up that directly address this topic.)

Ewing’s advice to aspiring artists was “you’ve got to develop the skill of when to listen and when not to;” and “Leave. Gain perspective.”  What is your favorite advice you have received or given?

Claudia Serea:

Keep writing even if you get rejected. Be honest and true to yourself. And, most importantly, never give up. Persistence is the most important quality.

Maria Haro:

Attack your fears by being fearless.

How do the birds know when it’s time to fly?

They must feel a restlessness, or a clock striking in their brain,

an itch, or a longing in the bones.

Or maybe the roads are calling, unfolding ahead,

new balconies of the city, glimmering windows and highways of air.

That’s when I have to say goodbye to my friends of the same feather

and prepare to travel light, with only love as carry-on.

Then, without thinking too much, the leap:

the push off the ledge, a flap or two.

I lean my chest against the wind and glide.

The current pours and lifts me up, up, so I can see everything.

Farewell, past.

Twoxism by CLAUDIA SEREA & MARIA HARO

Published by 8th House Publishing, Montreal, Canada

Order the book here.

6 x 9 | Paperback | December 2018

116 pages | Price: $20.00

ISBN 978-1-926716-53-4

Follow us on the blog Twoxism and on Instagram @Twoxism.

Claudia Serea is an award-winning Romanian-born poet whose poems and translations appeared in Field, New Letters, Gravel, Prairie Schooner, RHINO, The Malahat Review, and elsewhere. She has published five poetry collections, most recently Twoxism, a poetry-photography collaboration with Maria Haro (8th House Publishing, 2018). Serea is a founding editor of National Translation Month and a co-host of The Williams Poetry Readings series in Rutherford, NJ.

Maria Haro grew up in Madrid, Spain, where she studied fine arts and graphic design. She graduated from the School of Graphic Communications and moved to New York City in 1994. She has won several global awards as a Creative Director in pharma advertising. She collaborates with other artists on projects that inspire her. You can find her photos on Instagram @mariavisualdesigner.

~

Les Femmes Folles is a volunteer organization founded in 2011 with the mission to support and promote women in all forms, styles and levels of art from around the world with the online journal, print annuals, exhibitions and events; originally inspired by artist Wanda Ewing and her curated exhibit by the name Les Femmes Folles (Wild Women). LFF was created and is curated by Sally Deskins.  LFF Booksis a micro-feminist press that publishes 1-2 books per year by the creators of Les Femmes Folles including the award-winning Intimates & Fools (Laura Madeline Wiseman, 2014) , The Hunger of the Cheeky Sisters: Ten Tales (Laura Madeline Wiseman/Lauren Rinaldi, 2015 and Mes Predices (catalog of art/writing by Marie Peter Toltz, 2017).Other titles include Les Femmes Folles: The Women 2011, 2012, 2013, 2014, 2015 and 2016 available on blurb.com, including art, poetry and interview excerpts from women artists. A portion of the proceeds from LFF books and products benefit the University of Nebraska-Omaha’s Wanda Ewing Scholarship Fund.

Current call for collaborative art-writing: http://femmesfollesnebraska.tumblr.com/post/181376606692/lff-2019-artistpoet-collaborations

https://www.facebook.com/femmesfolles

[ivyfics]

With Me - Chap 1

He isn’t an evil ghost. No Poltergeist wannabe, no blood-curdling screams in the ungodly hours of the night. Sometimes Tetsurou moves shit around. Writes things on mirrors with soap, but useful things like ‘you’re out of milk’ and ‘the lady next door is peeking when you shower.’

Kuroo haunts his apartment as he pleases, uncaring of who might also be living in it. He's used to watching people come and go. Then moves in Tsukishima Kei.

Read on AO3

Pairing: KuroTsukki Rating: M Chaps: 1/? (May change in the future)  Additional Tags: Ghost!Kuroo, Haunted!Tsukishima, Tiniest bit of crack, Future angst

 NEXT CHAP - INDEX

So Tetsurou was dead. Is dead. Was?

He has a body but it’s fake?

Fitting into a category of the undead variety always messes with his sense of self so he’s going to ignore all of that existential pile of uncertainty and go with ghost.

Ghost describes him well enough. His original physical body is dead, he thinks. There’s very little else that could explain his crossing through solid things and imperceptibility.

That’s just a fancy word to say he’s see-through.

Tetsurou would know, seeing as he finished reading a thesaurus two days ago. An entire thesaurus. The whole thing.

There’s not a lot to do when you’re dead.

Anyway, back to his smokin' hot bod.

Tetsurou has a body now.

Unlike the last one, this one feels different, like adding extra features to a character in a game and trying to figure out how it works. There’s an opacity setting, for one. That was fun to find out. If he concentrates he can pick things up or make himself visible for a second or two.

He isn’t an evil ghost. No Poltergeist wannabe, no blood-curdling screams in the ungodly hours of the night.

Sometimes Tetsurou moves shit around.

Writes things on mirrors with soap, but useful things like 'you’re out of milk' and 'the lady next door is peeking when you shower.'

The apartment he’s staying at—technically, you could call it haunting, but Tetsurou would like to think of himself as more of a roommate than anything—is not the best, but the people in it are decent enough-ish. Old walls with questionable stains make up the surprisingly garish but well-lit hallways, and the landlady changed the locks after his first tenant moved out, so it’s pretty safe.

Given, she changed the locks because she was sure they would come back to steal things, which they did, but Tetsurou digresses.  

He might have locked out the previous tenant a time or two but the dude was an ass so he had it coming.  The lock is finicky at best and having to wait in a hallway for hours when the key is in the lock but won’t budge was the last straw for the dude after a string of questionable happenings, all courtesy of the live-in undead element of his housing situation.

Being a ghost is pretty okay, but the lack of subtlety means his apartment has a revolving door. One tenant leaves, another arrives. What’s Tetsurou to do, not take advantage of the supernatural prowess he now possesses?

(That’s fancy talk for being super awesome. In a spooky way.)

He’s gone through maybe six in the past year, the last one breaking the record at three weeks before he was moving back out.

Big baby.

Tetsurou’s not expecting anyone so soon, the douchebag not being gone more than two days, but when he’s watching his novela the lock snaps and the hinges on the front door creak, giving way to the terrible dye job the landlady who owns this place has been sporting since he can remember.

She’s stout and her voice is a squeak, rushing over to turn the t.v off right when Federico is telling Luciana that they’re related. Her shirt is this awful shade of yellow that clashes with the orange and purple from her hair.

If Tetsu was still alive he’d offer his services as a hairstylist but at least death brings the benefit of not having to deal with that misery. (Not that her hair could be anything other than a home bleach job.)

Besides that whole thing, there’s what he assumes is the new tenant standing awkwardly by the door. The new dude is tall.  He’s blonde, a first when his hair looks that healthy, curling and framing his face. Natural, too, according to his eyebrows. Either that or he can afford a really good stylist.

Karen’s twitchy, moving things around and fluffing out cushions—including the one right behind him, her hand going through Tetsurou before quickly snapping back as if burnt— all while avoiding eye contact with Eye Candy over there.

“The previous tenant vacated quickly,” Tall Dude says in that way that’s not phrased like a question but actually is.

“Ah, yes. He had some–uh, family things to attend to, so he was on his way,” Karen replies, hands wringing together.

Tetsurou snorts. “Yeah. Family stuff. Definitely not scared shitless.”

Black Rims’ mouth curls, eyes fixed on the tiny line of grime by the sink, “Anything weird with the apartment?”

“Oh, well, yes,” Karen tries to shrug, upper lip sweaty, “the water heater tends to be temperamental, no matter how many times I have it fixed. It’s why the price is so...reasonable.”

Tetsurou laughs. “So that’s what we’re calling driving the price down because it’s being haunted now?”

Focusing back on the screen, he narrows his eyes and throws his hand out with a curl. It’s theatrics, mostly. Just because he’s dead doesn’t mean Tetsurou has let go of his penchant for flair. It clicks back to life, Luciana weeping dramatically.

She’s pregnant with Federico’s baby so it’s a logical leap from where he left off.

Tetsurou glances over to Blondie to see his reaction, only to crash on the landlady. “Did you just cross yourself? I’m a ghost, Karen, not a demon. Rude.”

Big Bird interrupts before Karen can try and flub out an excuse for Tetsurou’s antics, “I’ll take it.”

 Boxes take up half the wall of the living room, and in this apartment, that’s not saying much. There’s not many, five at most, but they’re stacked neatly and out of the way so at least New Dude is not an absolute slob and Tetsurou won’t have to deal with that entire situation.

Being dead doesn’t make dealing with disgusting laundry and week-old Chinese leftovers on counters any more pleasant.

What Nerd Alert appears to be though, is a lonely loser with no friends.

Is that too harsh?

Tetsurou doesn’t think so but no human contact does tend to make him rough around the edges.

He’s seen many a people move-in and even the lowest, most annoying of them had:

A lot more things.

Like, a lot more emotional things. Knick-knacks and such: photos, mementos, discolored and raggedy stuffed animals that have seen way too much with their dead beady eyes ( Mr. Fuzzle was also haunted, in a good way. Someone’s grandma was definitely a witch of some kind).

Someone to help them move in.

No seriously, you’d be shocked. There was this particularly foul asshole maybe three tenants ago that was just the worst. A flaming pile. He had his elderly aunt do all the heavy lifting for him while he had a beer, and yeah, human trash chute, but the point is even he had someone there.

Stringbean has no one. He’s quiet as he sorts the only two boxes belonging to the bedroom. He’s been at it for the past hour, dusk melting in through the one window the living room can boast. There’s not much to do and Tetsurou gave up on human sightseeing less than a half-hour in, silence pressing on his nerves. The screen’s been on since then but it’s been ignored by the living resident, which Tetsurou can admit is a bit off. When Hipster Pants over there walks to the kitchen to get some water he stands in front of the lit television and gives absolutely no shits about it. Keeps on walking, pulls out a water bottle from one of the boxes, fills it up, and goes back to the bedroom.

Tetsurou is baffled.

He hovers over the back of the couch, bored. There’s not much to do once the six o’clock news flash on the screen. Tetsurou doesn’t pay attention to them, muting the sounds. You care less after you die, he's found. 

Low murmuring blends in with voices from the living room, volume low. It piques his interest and starts him into motion. A perk of being a ghost is not having to walk if you don’t want to, so Tetsurou floats.  Eiffel Tower is on the phone, spread out on the bed, clothes strewn around him. Black hoodie pulled up, it covers his earphones and Tetsurou swears he’s talking to himself as he folds for a hot minute before he shifts and a white cord peeks through.

Oh, thank God. He’s not a complete loner.

“Aki, it’s okay. I can move in by myself,” Four Eyes says, leaning over to grab another tee to fold, “you can’t help it. It’s fine.” His voice is soft, unhurried and low.  He has long fingers, graceful as he does something as mundane as clothes folding. They go through the motions mechanically, leaving neatly folded stacks in their wake. “It’s not a lot. I’m almost done.”

It’s a half-truth at best. Piled around him are the rest of his clothes, taking most of the bed. The rest of the boxes are still packed neatly, labeled Kitchen, Winter Coats, and Books.

Two to three hours’ work at best.

A pretty good attempt to reassure whoever’s on the line.

Natural Blonde sighs, pausing to bring the shirt he’s folding to his forehead for a second, eyes closed.“I’ll be fine on my own. Say hi to mom for me. Bye, Aki.”

It lasts only a moment—whatever it is that he’s doing—slow exhales and shut eyes, before he’s setting it aside and grabbing the next one.

Tetsurou was wrong. New Kid has someone, too. News forgotten, Tetsurou looks at him work through the pile, tracking his fingers all along.

Beanpole is in college.

It says so on the student ID sitting on the kitchen counter. His name is Tsukishima Kei.

It’s a pretty name.

It suits him.

NEXT CHAP - INDEX

#kurotsuki #haikyuu #tsukishima kei #Kuroo Tetsurou #hello welcome to ghostfic #its finally here and out of my wips so i can focus on something else #like alien tooru au #p l e a s e #anyway #this is a ride #with me #my writing #with me part 1 #kurotsukki

[cherrywineandmagic]

So It Goes / Spencer Reid

A/N: The result of late night writing and having a fever. This is not the happiest story. It’s nearly 3 am and I haven’t edited so there will probably be typos. I apologize in advance. 

Warnings: Mentions of rape/torture. angst. And just bad stuff, my man 

Serenity filled Spencer’s being, a feeling of such tranquility he never thought he'd ever feel. It was something he didn't waste, something he appreciated more than most. Peace of mind was always difficult to find as it seemed to evade him most of his life, similar to the way sleep would play the cat and mouse game with him most nights. 

Her long red hair was all around her, laid out onto the soft silk pillowcase underneath. She smiled, her lips pulling back to reveal slightly crooked teeth. Her green eyes sparkled with hints of gold and he felt himself lost in them for a second. He studied her face well, counting the forty-two freckles across her cheeks that were like small constellations against her skin. Her eyebrows were perfectly arched, a testimony to the routine appointments she made to have them done. But they were thinner now, missing of the makeup she used to fill them in. 

“What are you staring at?” she laughed. He’d been silent for minutes now, simply memorizing every inch of her face as it was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. It was the same look he held when he contemplated the world’s greatest pieces of art, and she felt both self-conscious and flattered to see it directed toward her. 

“I’m just trying to remember this, that’s all,” he replied with a small grin. They laid there in comfortable silence, their bodies turned to each other in full attention. He smiled as he watched her eyelids begin to droop down with exhaustion before closing. His hand reached out and ruffled her hair slightly, earning a small grunt of disapproval from her. 

“Some of us have work in the morning, Spence,” she said with a small chuckle as her hand reached up to grab hold of his. The night was growing darker and the streets quieter. It was later than the pair usually stayed up on a weekday. 

“Not if I don’t let you out of this bed,” he replied with a bright grin as he pulled her closer to him. His hand hit her bare back with just the sheet between them, their legs becoming tangled in each other in a familiar embrace. 

“Keep us in bed and Hotch will fire us both” 

Spencer laughed at her remark, knowing well the reprimands they’d received for coming in late recently. He couldn’t help it, he was in love. He’d find ways to keep her in bed despite knowing his responsibilities. He’d always been punctual but he chose happiness this time around. 

“Ok, fine. I’ll let you sleep.” Spencer murmured against her forehead as his own exhaustion washed through him. The only sound that came from the room that night were Spencer’s soft snores and the white noise their corner fan provided.

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

“We’ve been dating for two years and not once have we been unprofessional during a case,” she defended, her eyes flashing with disbelief. Hotch nodded, sighing as he looked at his youngest agents.

“Someone brought your relationship to the attention of my superiors. You’re no longer allowed to share a room while we’re working on a case.” 

“That's-” 

“Fair,” Spencer interrupted. His hand reassuringly squeezed her shoulder as she looked at him in confusion. “They want to make sure we’re focused. I don't mind sharing a room with Morgan.”

“But-” she began to argue only to be cut off again.

“We can sleep together at home, love. I’m sure you don't mind sharing a room with JJ?” She sighed in defeat but nodded, agreeing to the switch. 

-----------

It was a switch that didn't last very long as Spencer found himself sneaking into her hotel room at night. JJ would chuckle but sneak away to take his place in Morgan’s room, knowing she’d have to wake a few minutes earlier than Hotch in order to make the switch back. No one on the team mentioned the fact they were defying orders. Seeing Spencer so happy wasn't something they were willing to end. 

Spencer crawled into her covers that night, just barely fitting into the single-person sized bed. She laughed as he nearly fell back, his long arms reaching to wrap around her in time to grab some balance. 

“Shh,” she hushed, concealing her own giggle as he tried his best not to make noise. He grinned, looking down at her bare face and slowly caressing her soft cheeks. 

“I love you,” he whispered. The softness in his voice mirrored that of his heart, where he felt nothing but a burning fire of adoration for her. 

“I love you too,” she replied, her eyes shining from the pale light that trickled in from the hotel window. Soft moonlight illuminated her features for a second, giving Spencer just enough time to memorize yet another night with her. 

-----------

His eyes snapped open at the sound of footsteps. He instantly sprung forward, his hands grasping onto the bars of the cell he was held in. Silent tears flowed down his face as he watched him carry her into the cell across from him, letting her fall from his arms carelessly onto the concrete floor. 

The man walked away without a glance in his direction. He had been their unsub, a former police officer whose preferred victims had been women. He’d pick them by pairs, taking turns to sexually assault and torture them to their death. Spencer hadn't been meant to be in that room. The unsub had watched them, and having her and JJ in one room was a dream come true. But he had missed the moment the switch had happened, and instead of leaving Spencer behind he had brought him as well. 

Spencer held back a choked sob as he took in the new bruises along her thighs. He could see the darkening skin around her throat, and the burns from rope around both her wrists and ankles. She laid still for hours and only by the small rise and fall of her chest did he know she was still alive.

His heart broke when she finally turned her head to face him, her eyes dead from emotion. A tiny window allowed moonlight to illuminate her face, but the sight was heart wrenching. 

“Spence,” she whispered. She saw the despair in his eyes and could only imagine how horrible she must have looked. She felt it. She felt herself growing weaker with every grope, with every push the unsub gave. She felt the sting of the cuts he made along her skin in places she was glad Spencer wasn't able to see. The only thing that kept her together during this had been thinking of Spencer who was waiting for her return. 

“We’re going to get out. Garcia will find our location. The team will find us.” His words were meant as reassurance but she wondered if they were meant for her or him. She nodded softly, knowing full well that the unsub was beginning to bore of her and she would not make it past the day. 

“Tell me about our future, Spence,” she whispered as she looked at him for an escape. He smiled sadly, trying to push away the feeling that she was already gone from him. 

“Well, I'm going to propose. At a planetarium where we’re underneath the night sky because I know how much you love the stars. I’ll get on my knees and say, “I love you. I love you more than I ever thought was possible, and you have single-handedly made me into a better man. You have taken my breath away and given me life at the same time, and I won't go another day without knowing you’ll be my wife.” 

“And the ring?” she asked, a small smile playing on her face at his story.

“It’s huge. So big it’ll weigh too heavy on your finger and we’ll have to exchange it for a smaller one the next day,” Spencer replied, tears streaming down his face as he looked at her. 

“What comes next?”

“The wedding.We’ll have a small wedding in Rossi’s backyard. Just the people we love. And we’ll get so drunk off of each other and off wine that we’ll be dancing all night.”

“Dancing? Now that's something I need to see,” she commented, a tiny weak laugh departing her lips. “Then what?” 

“We move into a house. Probably in the suburbs where the houses all look the same on the outside but we’ll find a way to make the inside home. We’ll adopt a dog from the local shelter.” 

“Rodger.”

“Yes, Rodger,” Spencer chuckled, remembering how she’d always wanted a dog with that name. It was yet another childhood oddity that he had fallen in love with.

“And we’ll have kids. Three of them.” 

“Three?”

“Yes. Two boys and a girl. The boys will love you and your wildness and the girl will be absolutely spoiled by me. I don't have names yet, but they’ll be beautiful if they're anything like you.”

“I hope they're as smart as you. Maybe one will finally beat you at chess,” she smiled.

“Marry me,” he blurted out, needing to know her answer. 

“I’m all yours.” 

“Is that your way of saying yes? Or should we skip that and go to the I do?” 

She laughed, the sound making his heart skip a beat as his mind filed it away for a rainy day. 

“I do.” 

Spencer felt his heart break further as a tiny spark reemerged from her eyes, just enough to feel she was still with him. Their eyes met, shining with tears at seeing the other in such conditions. 

“I love you. I don't want you to ever forget that.” 

Spencer sobbed, his heart physically hurting as his head fell into his hands. He took a moment to collect himself before mustering up the strength to look at her again.

“I will never forget that. I love you so much.” 

Spencer cried as the unsub reappeared again, unlocking her cell and dragging her weak body out and onto his shoulder. He watched as her eyes immediately closed, her mind escaping elsewhere. 

His cries filled the room as he fell back onto the floor, his body weak and malnourished after being held prisoner for nearly a week. He cursed the unsub, cursed his job. If only they were normal, mundane people. If he had been a professor, a barista, anything. They wouldn't have landed in this godforsaken town that seemed to tear away the one good thing he’d been given. 

Hours passed before he came back. This time he opened Spencer’s cell and wordlessly dropped her body inside. Immediately he knew she was gone. He clung to her, holding her limp body in his arms as his sobs grew louder every second. Even her hair looked less vibrant, as if the fiery red had been fueled by her life. She felt cold to his touch, and that coldness seemed to seep into his heart. 

It wasn't even an hour later when the team appeared. One look inside the cell and they all felt their hearts shatter. One look at Reid’s dead eyes was enough to let them know that she was gone. The tears continued to stream down his cheeks but he no longer made a sound. They had been too late, and he had lost the love of his life. 

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

More people than he expected showed up to the wake. She had touched the lives of nearly everyone she encountered and the morning had been spent with the retelling of her adventures. Person after person spoke animatedly about her with nothing but fond memories. Even the team tried to join in, mentioning how much she brought to their everyday lives and trying their best to remain as put together for Spencer. While they had lost a friend, he had lost a lover. 

Spencer felt an odd warmth fill him at the stories. He’d always known she was a wild soul. She caused commotion wherever she went but she was also full of so much love that no one had a bad thing to say. Instead they spoke with admiration, claiming that she lived life to its fullest and only ever settled for things that made her happy.

She had chosen him. That much was enough to make him smile, the thought of her momentarily bringing him comfort. 

He approached the open casket once everyone had gone. Her bruises had been covered and her makeup done to her taste. She looked beautiful, even in death. She looked like herself, the way she would want to be remembered. 

His goodbyes were said internally. He felt if he even attempted to speak it would release the floodgates, and so he spoke of how he loved her in his thoughts, knowing she would hear them. 

Finally he pulled a small velvet box from his pocket. He opened it, revealing the large diamond ring he had described to her earlier. He slipped it onto her fingers gently before giving her hand one last small squeeze. 

“You will always be my wife,” he whispered, his voice nearly inaudible. His words rang true to him. He had married her a million times in his mind, and the feeling would never go away. 

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

“Do you want me to stay with you?” Morgan asked as he pulled to the curb.

“No. I think I’ll walk home. I need the air,” Spencer replied as he threw open the car door. The cold breeze woke him and sent a shiver down his spine. 

“Alright. Call me if you need anything.”

“I will,” Spencer nodded as he threw open the backseat. Down came a large husky, excited to be out and yet standing obediently at his feet.

“Reid, anything,” Morgan repeated, concern laced in his voice.

“I will,” Spencer reassured. “Thanks for the ride.”

“Anytime, kid.” Spencer watched as Morgan pulled back onto the road, driving slower than usual. He didn't doubt that Morgan was contemplating coming back, but he he appeared to ultimately decide against it. Once he could no longer see his vehicle he turned and motioned for the dog to follow. 

“Come on, Rodger,” he said as he weaved through the cemetery. They both knew the way by heart as they passed all kinds of headstones, Rodger running ahead of him with excitement in every step.

“Say hi,” Spencer said as he took a seat in front of an intricate headstone. Rodger circled it, pressing his nose up against the marble for a moment. Spencer gingerly placed the flowers he had brought with him at the foot of it, a vivid bouquet of colors that stood out in that cold winter day. Rodger fell down beside him, resting his head onto his lap as a sense of comfort washed over them both, the feeling of her surrounding them.

#I'm so sorry #spencer reid #you guys hated me for silence and then I do this #spencer reid x oc? #kinda? just unnamed but with some description #criminal minds #criminal minds imagine #spencer reid imagine

[waylonfarcry-blog]

7 Things About click here Your Boss Wants to Know

Away from the new FPS game titles that gaming admirers are eagerly waiting for this yr, the Significantly Cry five video game is apparently the newest achievement out this calendar year. Nevertheless, not everything is perfect in Hope county and if You are looking for motives to not purchase Significantly Cry 5 Now we have a pair.

™

To start out we will checklist The great as well as the poor in regards to the video game just before we delve into Just about every facet of the sport.

The Poor:

The nice:

Significantly Cry 5 - Match CoverThe protect artwork of the first-human being-shooter recreation Much Cry five showcasing Joseph Seed, a.k.a 'The daddy,' the primary antagonist of the game in addition to his cronies.Far Cry five GamePlay

The quilt artwork of the very first-human being-shooter game Much Cry five featuring Joseph Seed, a.k.a 'The Father,' the primary antagonist of the sport coupled with his cronies.

Established within the fictitious Hope County of Montana, the Much Cry five sport boasts a gameplay that it deserves kudos for. The sport is rarely unexciting and with areas that the sport combines from earlier editions, it succeeds in leaving out every thing that admirers hated in regards to the sequence till now. It features almost every one of the exciting bits with the Far Cry five universe.

Noteworthy mentions are the companion program along with the co-operative gameplay choice With all the Much Cry Arcade method which is apparently attention-grabbing.

Far Cry 5 Combat Technique

The combat method in the game just isn't something that is revolutionary, nonetheless, it is actually pretty much as good as any Far Cry activity has actually been until now. The combat process presents the prospect for many violent, motion-packed gameplay, combined with the enjoyable of utilising melee attacks as you're taking apart the undesirable guys, one particular degree at a time.

So, if gore, blood and mindless violence is your thing then you will discover the Much Cry 5 sport being adequately satisfying. If not, then the sport may not be worth it as It will just be an easy operate in the mill FPS - albeit, a person which provides enough engagement.

Far Cry five Degree Design and style

The extent style is just what the Significantly Cry 5 activity will be remembered for, at the least it ought to be. The extent style is partaking and by no means uninteresting, with a lot of NPCs featuring help and side mission that you should preserve you fast paced. Nevertheless, and This can be the great Component of the game, the aspect missions you engage in, actively get the job done to add to the game development and as over a mundane way to extend video game-time. Additionally, a small amount of environment-based puzzles in side missions also provides a little bit of variety for the gameplay.

Summing Up The great

So, the game is an effective try at an FPS, nonetheless it lacks just about anything sizeable in means of new mechanics or improvements that should define the game sequence for a long period.

The gameplay and amount development are undoubtedly up towards the mark plus the companion process is seamless. The co-op mode also can make it exciting to Enjoy the sport. So, While using the elimination of your crafting mechanism, a far more purely natural amount progression and an even better reward method for upskilling, the Considerably Cry five activity seems to be the very best while in the collection still.

Summing up the Terrible

Likely only by the Significantly Cry 5 sport, in-recreation visuals remain anything Ubisoft should work on, paradoxically! The level of detailing is practically nothing in comparison with Assassin's Creed Origins (also by Ubisoft) out very last 12 months. That's something that is simply annoying. So, the in-video game visuals are alright, just about. Nothing good.

One more element which Ubisoft didn't get suitable may be the storyline itself. I realize, it's a video clip game instead of a political satire. But, looking at the advertising and marketing slant across the storyline, it Practically looks like Ubisoft was leading fans alongside for any bit. Although the storyline lacks an ending or floor-breaking revelation that might have reinforced or ridiculed present stereotypes and judgements, In addition, it winds up not declaring anything at all with regards to the social ailments that it was meant being a dystopic reflection off; at the very least, based on the hype and marketing and advertising that is!

Qualified Assistance on the Humanity:

Unexpected emergency predicaments and the incidents are a number of the key and in addition repeating conditions of a person's lifetime. Nearly, Many of us encounters this kind of predicaments in which the humanity is while in the dire require of An immediate support. Pretty much all this sort of hectic eventualities create desire to be a part of an occupation that goes a good distance in assisting the dying and craving humanity. Furthermore, for a lot of people, it will come out to become a supply of satiating their thirst for currently being humane to the humanity. Amongst this sort of professions is radiology. It works with using the MRI, Ultrasound evaluation and also the X-ray devices towards the extent which the analysis imaging is going to be executed in a professional way. Remaining one of the most acknowledged professions throughout the world, in the sector of health care care, the radiology specialists are normally participating in a significant purpose by promptly resolving the emergent ailments and complying with all of the skilled requirements. These are at really a dependable placement because it is about the major effective Assessment that's accompanied by a successful get rid of.

Serve Improved to Gain Much better:

Radiology professionals are earning handsome At the moment as a result of frustrating need for this job. Talking about this occupation along with the linked compliance, Every person Appears to get curious. Just one element that is actually expanding the scope and the necessity for this job is that this occupation delivers high spending Work opportunities. Furthermore, it is not merely a essential work to accomplish a radiology technician certification but click here will also you now not need to speculate a fantastic amount of time. It's going to just take only eighteen to 24 months of time to obtain this skillful certification. The analyze hours are not to transcend limits to acquire this acknowledged certification so you can get the same without the need of getting a bookworm.

Choices are Ready:

It actually deals with not a lot more than 2 many years of your daily life to carry the very regarded certification. Moreover, just after finishing this clear-cut teaching, you might be able sufficient to gain superior occupations at the following clinical-linked platforms:

• Professional medical facilities

• Laboratories

• Clinics

• Another associated health-connected fields

Scope of Radiology Technician Profession and the necessities:

Regardless that Each individual scholar is in just how to obtaining carried out Along with the program, that man or woman to control many Understanding modules. The students should figure out how to prepare the individuals for your smoother and soothing diagnosis course of action. Additionally, the whole and the professional use with the related Health care units is usually protected from the scope of this profession. The radiology performs with working towards from the labs and other health-related destinations that they needs to be extremely technological and proficient As a result they ought to have an excellent understanding of Physics and Biology. These demands are now being set primarily simply because not a soul is taken for granted for remaining professional at these spots. Once ending the two years of education and learning, the scholar receives the radiology technician certification. Another phase is to get the license. The holding of the license enables the student to apply for the job in almost any with the health and fitness treatment Section involving the diagnostic application. This license will entitle somebody to prepare for two a long time and precisely the same ought to be renewed right after each 2 many years.

#games #far cry #ps4 #pc