#Ready to brawl at a moment's notice

[sprite-writes-fanfic]

hey so how do you think the 2003 tmnt boys would deal with having dated their s/o for two years now, is anniversary, and the brothers, or April or Casey asks, “so 2 years, do you two think you’ll last longer?” And s/o is just like “I’d marry this one if I could”?

This ask 🥺🥺 I feel my mind already racing with headcanons that I need to get out GAH!!

The topic of marriage?!

🐢💙❤️2003 TMNT x Reader💜🧡🐢

Word Count: 1054

CW: Gender-neutral reader, they/them is used but you can replace them with your pronouns! Topics of marriage are brought up! Mushy turtles, pure fluff ahead!

You and your partner have been together in probably the best relationship you’ve ever been in. It’s always had its ups and downs, but you two have always pushed through! And now your second anniversary is arriving soon and neither of you can’t wait to proceed with your future together!

Well, during a conversation between you, the guys, April and Casey, the question of, “So, two years… Do you guys think you’ll last longer?” Causing April to shoot Casey a small glare when he asked this, (let’s be honest he didn’t mean it in an insensitive way he’s just asking because it’s a genuine question).

Without missing a beat, you were quick to answer, “I’d marry him if I could.” A smile playing on your lips, not really noticing the subtle squeeze on your hand from your partner.

🐢💙Leonardo💙🐢

💙 Leo is over THE MOON! You would want to marry him?! Really?! Any insecurity of you possibly thinking about ever wanting somebody else is gone in an instance. You want him, and only him, and this man couldn’t be any happier.

💙 He’s thinking about it the whole time and is noticeably more spaced out because of it. He is on cloud nine and is absolutely fantasizing about the wedding you guys could have…

💙 Later that night you and him lay in his bed snuggled up together, the candles flickering softly as you read and he rested on you, his head in your lap. Finally, you ask him, “Hey, Leo? You okay? You’ve been out of it a lot tonight.”

💙 Leo could only smile up at you, “Oh, it’s nothing, just thinking about what you said earlier.” And once it hit you, you couldn’t help but blush a bit and smile with him.

💙 He was extra cuddly and affectionate towards you for the following months (along with being more protective too), he just could not get that memory out of his head. I wouldn’t be surprised if he popped the question leading up those months. <3

🐢❤️Raphael❤️🐢

❤️ Raph’s ego grew more along with the swelling in his chest. This giant turtle had some insecurities, I mean, as a mutant turtle growing up with the possibility of never being able to live a normal life like any average Joe?

❤️ He’s thrilled at the thought that you’d want to marry him because he’s definitely thought about it too. Getting some slice of normalcy. You know how I mentioned how he’s daydreamed about your first date? Well after the first year, he daydreamed about your future together too.

❤️ Get married, settle down, maybe even start a family, whether it be through somehow making a kid, adopting an actual child or just having fur-babies to be your kids.

❤️ Either way, he’s stoked, and he’s CONFIDENT TOO, oh man you just gave him ammo to tease you with, (don’t worry he’ll stop if you ask him to). He will definitely say things like, “I don’t blame you for wanting to marry me, I mean, look at me!” While flexing, making you laugh as he softly smirked.

❤️ Actually grows more overprotective over you too! Like… It’s surprising. He was already overprotective of you, but now he’s just more overprotective. He wants his future spouse to be safe after all! And ain’t nothin’ gonna touch you when Raph’s around and ready to brawl with any criminal who tries to hurt you.

🐢💜Donatello💜🐢

💜 Donnie froze a moment as he heard this, and his whole brain paused before quietly glancing over at you in a shy manner. Marriage? Oh man, he didn’t predict this as a result of tonight’s get-together!

💜 Don’t worry, he’s actually really mushy inside. He feels like a schoolgirl getting all squirmy and bashful because her crush confessed to her! He ends up getting more fidgety with your hands and stutters a bit.

💜 It’ll be on his mind for a good while, but as of now, he’s too shy to bring it up to you. Not until it slips up during your actual anniversary anyways. He was ranting as always about something, and well, that ended up slipping out. It honestly surprised you that he was thinking about that, it was really endearing.

💜 And trust me, it’ll always be running through his mind for a long time, he just hopes your opinion will stay the same throughout the years. But until then, Donnie decided to make the both of you promise rings! He presented it to you one day, feeling warm when you seemed so excited about it. “I want to marry you, but I’m also not 100% ready for marriage either. But when the day comes, I’ll propose with the prettiest of rings.”

💜 You made his century when he saw you wear that ring everyday. To him it meant that you were willing to wait until he was ready too, and he was thankful for that patience you gifted him with, and he was looking forward to what came in your future together.

🐢🧡Michelangelo🧡🐢

🧡 Mikey would just as casually say with a laugh, “Oh yeah! Me too! … WAIT REALLY?!” And he jumped up and grabbed your hands excitedly. You had only see this kind of excitement when Donnie had built the Shell Raiser all those years ago.

🧡 Bro is so excited, “Why not now?!” And now you were in a bit of shock, and Raph was quick to but-in, “You need to propose with a ring, knucklehead!” Now Mikey is pouting. You end up hugging him and comforting him.

🧡 But in no-means is he deterred by Raph’s comment, he is now determined, and he’s been talking with April about what he should do, and that’s when suggested, “Why not make your own ring?” He stared a moment before he was quick to go, “April, you’re a genius!”

🧡 With Mikey though, he’s easy to get side-tracked and distracted often, and when it came to things that took a lot of time, he got frustrated easily. But he wasn’t gonna give up!

🧡 When he finally finished, (with Donnie’s help after he begged the poor man), he was basically vibrating with excitement! He was stoked and wanted to propose right away, but with April and his brother’s advice, he figured he’d find a more romantic way of doing it… He might put that ring in your slice of pizza, let’s be honest.

GAAH, gonna be honest, I was a little stumped with Mikey last night and had to sleep on it, change some things, all that fun jazz. Once again spoiling Mikey’s moment, but maybe at some point I’ll make proposal headcanons! Also, if you want, I’m thinking of making a taglist, if you want to be tagged, let me know!

#sprite writes #fanfic #tmnt #tmnt 2003 x reader #tmnt 2003 #leo x reader #raph x reader #donnie x reader #mikey x reader #tmnt leonardo #tmnt raphael #tmnt donatello #tmnt michelangelo #2003 leo #2003 raph #2003 donnie #2003 mikey

[dckweed]

BABYGIRL, jake 'hangman' seresin

summary: in which hangman and his babygirl go on a wild ride with an unplanned pregnancy and finally admitting their feelings for each other and figuring out life in general as new parents

warnings: pregnancy, morning sickness, christmas themed even though it's march!, ex boyfriend meets new boyfriend and it's not pretty. rooster becomes a cowboy, babygirl gets hurt.

okay so this isn't incredibly long but it's the final part of the christmas trip! the next few parts will be getting ready or baby and maybe a wedding??

series masterlist here, series playlist here

PART FIVE: technicalities 

The drive back to the ranch was a quiet affair, the cab of the truck filled with a tension that had tears welling in your eyes. You don’t say a word, unsure of what would even help calm the situation down, your mind reeling as your eyes locked on the busted knuckles of Jake’s right hand clenching the steering wheel so tightly that the skin around the abrasion was turning white. Dalton had gotten mouthy toward you in the presence of Jake, Bradley was telling him what he had called you right before he told him to leave. He didn’t take kindly to anyone disrespecting a woman in general, but when it came to you it was even worse. He had lost his composure. He punched him full force right in front of you, your hands had flown to your face in shock as Bradley jumped in to separate them once he realized Dalton was stupid enough to get up off the floor and square up, getting right in Jake’s face. 

You pout as you feel a flutter in your belly, your hand going to it almost protectively as Jake turns down the bumpy driveway of the ranch, going faster than he probably ought too. You bite your lip anxiously as he pulls to a stop in the driveway, noticing your Daddy’s truck parked off to the side. 

“Stay, please..” His voice is soft, his hand gentle as he puts it over yours to stop you from opening the door. When you turn to look at him his face is pensive, something you’re not used to. “Just for a moment.” 

“I’ll just..” Rooster doesn’t even finish what he’s saying, jumping out of the truck before Jake can stop him too and rushing inside, rubbing his shoulder as he goes. It had given a loud pop as he practically body checked Jake backwards from Dalton, trying to keep them from all out brawling in the middle of the living room. 

The truck is silent once more, and for a moment you don’t even look at him, unsure of what to even say, or do. Part of you wonders if he’s upset with you, part of you is upset with him.. But a bigger part is worried about his damn hand. You turn in your seat having unbuckled your seatbelt and are about to ask him if it’s okay when he beats you to it. 

“I’m so sorry you saw me like that, babygirl..” He says, his eyes watery as he looks at you and it nearly breaks your damn heart. “I shouldn’t have done that in front of you..I shouldn’t have lost it like that..you could have gotten hurt..” His hand shakily rests on your belly, giving it a gentle rub with his thumb. 

“Jake, baby..” You sigh, climbing over the center console as best as you can with a round belly, and settling into his lap, damning the steering wheel pressing into your back. “I should be the one that’s apologizing..it’s my fault that he was acting like that..I should have figured he would have shown up..s’my fault your hand is all busted..” You pull it off of your belly and bring it to your lips, giving a gentle kiss to the wound as the man gives you a stern look. 

“Y/N Y/M/N,  do not ever apologize to me for things that you cannot control, do you hear me?” Your eyes widen, he hadn’t called you by your real name in so long that you honestly weren’t even sure that he knew it..tears well in your eyes at his words, your lips quivering as you nod. 

“Okay.” You say, fighting back the tears. 

“Oh, honey, no, no babygirl, don’t cry-” You see the panic in his eyes now as he brings a hand up to wipe the tears. You shake your head, a hand gripping his wrist as you lean into his touch. “I didn’t mean to-”

“S’just the hormones.” You sniffle, your quivering lips turning into a smile. It must look a sight because he lets out a chuckle. “It was kind of hot watching you defend my honor though.” 

He laughs this time, that smile that makes your knees wobbly on his face.. “Babygirl, I will defend your honor any damn time you need.” He says, his tumb rubbing against the skin of your cheek as your smile becomes less emotional. “Ready to go inside?”

You nod. “I’m hungry.” The mexican food had gotten scattered across the floor in the scuffle, the biggest loss of the whole encounter in your opinion. You could care less about being called a whore, your damn food was on the floor!

Your father has an absolute field day at the dinner table after everyone had said grace, when Jake tells him that he’d gotten into a fight with Dalton. Telling him that he had called you a whore, your father’s face turned red with rage and you thought he was going to go hunt down the man and give a good whats what. 

“It’s okay, Daddy..” You say, squeezing his weathered hand. He squeezes it back and seems to relax as you bring a forkful of mashed potatoes to your mouth. “Honestly, I’m not even upset about that..it’s not like he hasn’t called me the name before..” You shovel another bite of mashed potatoes in. “What i’m mad about is that he called her a Bastard.” Both men beside you stiffen, and the entire dinner table goes silent, though you don’t particularly notice, you’re completely enraptured by the damn mashed potatoes. They were the best thing you’d eaten in months. 

Someone clears their throat from across the table. “Technically, she is.” Jake’s chair clatters to the floor along with a couple of his mama’s nice dinner plates as he launches himself across the table at his brother. Nash scoots himself backwards just in time to miss his hands, just as their Daddy comes front he head of the table and pulls Jake to the floor by his belt loops, walloping him on the side of the head. 

“The hell is wrong with you, son?!” He bellows, causing his adult son to look up in fear, food smattered across his shirt. “Acting like a damn heathen, breaking your mama’s dishes! Go on and get to your room! I don’t want to see ya until tomorrow!” And with a swift kick to the behind Jake leaves the dining room. It was a scene straight out of your teenage years with him, it was as if you were reliving one of his sibling rivalries with him. 

He turns to you next, his features softening. “You okay, honey?” He asks as he crouches down next to your father to help pick up some of the broken glass pieces. You’re not sure where Mama has gone off to, but you can hear her ranting about her dinner table. 

“I’m okay, sir..” You say, scooping a heaping pile of the mashed potatoes onto your plate unashamedly as you glare at Nash across from you. 

“I’m sorry, Babygirl.” He sighs, rubbing a hand down his face. “I didn’t mean for anyone to take offense..i just meant that..you know..with you not being with her actual daddy, she is a bastard..you know?” You weren’t surprised that the rest of the family knew. No secret was safe in the Seresin family. “Especially with her not being able to have our name legally..” 

“I hadn’t thought about that..” You say quietly. “But, as far as Jake is concerned, he is her actual daddy, even if he didn’t.. you know..help create her. He’s been there for all of the appointments…he’s been there for me through sickness..he felt her move for the first time! He talks to her all the time..”

Nash nods, as if agreeing with you. “That won’t matter to a court though, if the rat bastard that did help create her decides to go for custody.” He takes a long drink out of his sweating beer bottle. “That’s all I was trying to say..didn’t realize he was gonna get all pissypants on me and break mama’s plates..”

“He’s right,” Bradley says from down the way, and you turn to look at him just as Mama ushers you out of your chair, broom in hand. “Dalton could absolutely take you to court over the baby, especially after today. If Jake wants his name attached to her..you guys need to have him sign over parental rights..” 

You go around the table and give both men a kiss on their cheeks, thanking them before heading off to the bedroom, your plate of mashed potatoes clutched in your hands. Jake is sat on the end of the bed, his head in his hands and his smattering of chest hair on full display (just how you liked it). He looks up when the door opens, watching you close it behind you before holding out an arm for you, pulling you into his grasp once you’re close enough. 

“I fucked up.” He mumbles, face in your chest (right between your boobs, just how he liked) as he wrapped his muscular arms around your waist. Your legs were on either side of his, sitting comfortably as you shoveled another forkful of potatoes in. “I just..I don’t want anyone to bad mouth our little girl, you know?”

You hum. “He’s right though.” His head snaps up so fast you swear his neck breaks, eyebrows furrowed. He’s looked at you as if you have three heads. You stare at your plate of mashed potatoes, wondering if mama will come home with you to make them daily. “She is a bastard.” 

A choked sound leaves the back of his throat, and you wince. “How could you say that?” He asks, one of his hands going to your belly, rubbing it as if to soothe the baby. 

You look at him, setting the plate down just beside him. “Nash didn’t mean any harm, baby, honest..” You say, hands winding behind his neck, playing with the hair at his nape as he looks at you with furrowed eyebrows. “Dalton will always have a legal claim over her, even though i’m not with him, that doesn’t change that fact that by blood, he is her biological father.” His jaw clenches at your words and you place a gentle kiss on it, hoping to relax him. “I know you already think of her as yours, and I do too..I couldn’t see her calling anyone else Daddy, you know?” He nods. “All Nash was trying to get at was that, if we want her to always only call you daddy, if we want her to legally be yours then we need to legally have him give up his parental rights to her..” 

Jake groans, head dropping to your chest again as you pick up your plate of mashed potatoes. “I hate it when he makes sense.” He rests his chin your chest, looking up at you, eyebrows furrowed. “Are you eating mashed potatoes?” 

Getting termination of parental rights paperwork drawn up was surprisingly not hard, the next day was spent in a lawyers office getting multiple copies of the papers drawn up. You signed where you needed to sign, before taking the copies to be signed by Dalton. Bradley and Jake go with you, acting as your body guards as you go through town trying to figure out where the jackass is. According to a mutual friend, he’s day drinking in a local bar that has barely any patrons, and it takes no time to get there.

Jake and Bradley accompany you to the doors, where you pause, fingers grasping the handles. “Babygirl?” It was Bradley who asks, confusion lacing his tone. 

You look up at the two men, both of them who clearly cared so much for you. “It’s probably better if he doesn’t see either of you.” You say, looking more pointedly at Jake. “Might make him hostile, you know?” He purses his lips, looking over to Bradley. They seem to have a silent conversation before he finally gives a single nod. He leans down slightly as you reach up on your tiptoes to kiss his cheek. “Be back out with four sets of signatures.” 

The bar is dark when you first step in, your eyes taking a moment to adjust to the lighting. There’s a couple of older patrons hanging around a pool table in the back, who stop what they’re doing to look at you, and another patron sitting at the bar top, on an overstuffed stool. He turns to look slowly at you as the bartender welcomes you. He smirks. “Get tired of your precious little Jakey already?” He taunts, taking a drink of some dark liquor. “Decided to come back to a real man?” 

You decide to hold your tongue about what a real man is, and how one of them is waiting right outside those doors for you because you feel like it will make your situation worse. “Actually, i’m here for something else.” You say, climbing up onto the stool next to him as gracefully as you can, nose crinkling as you smell the foul odor coming from his glass. He doesn’t even bother to help you up despite watching you struggle. You set the papers down in front of him, along with a pen. 

“What’s this?” He asks, tilting his head at you. You see the bruise on his mouth where Jake’s fist must’ve connected. You can’t help but be proud that your ‘real’ man put it there. “Hm?” 

“I want you to legally give up your parental rights to the baby.” You say, looking him in the eye. He laughs. “Did I say something funny?” 

“You want me to sign away rights to something that ain’t fuckin’ mine?” He asks, grin on his face as if you’d just said the funniest damn thing in the world. “Thought you were supposed to be smart there, babygirl..” It sounds so wrong coming from his lips that it makes you want to hurl. 

“Dalton, you and I both know that she’s yours.” You say sternly, getting in his face. He narrows his eyes at you. “I never slept with anyone else while we were together, you were the only whore in the-” Your ear rings where he had boxed you, closed fisted on it. He was drunker than you thought. 

“Alright-that’s enough!” The bartender says, smacking his hand on the counter top. “Little miss, i think it’s best you get on out of here.” You glare at the man who just hit you. He grins like a kid on christmas morning, as if he couldn’t believe that he had shocked you into silence. 

“Fine.” You say, grabbing the papers before hopping off the bar stool. “Play it that way.” You face throbs where he had hit you and you hold your hand to it as you make your way to the door, trying not to let tears spill over as you walk out of it, the sunlight practically blinding you. 

“Woah!” Jake says, catching you as you barrel into him, holding you by the shoulders. “What’s wrong with your face?!” 

Hot, angry tears flow down your cheeks as you look up at him. “He hit me!” You stomp your foot. “He closed fisted boxed me!” You watch your boyfriends face change entirely. “I told him i wanted him to sign the papers, and he told me he wouldn’t sign because the baby isn’t his and i told him he was the only whore in the relationship and he fucking hit me jake!” 

He kiss your forehead, taking the tan stetson off his head before placing it down on your own, taking the papers from your hand gently. “I’ll go handle this, babygirl..go wait in the truck.” You open your mouth to protest but he gives you a stern look that shuts you the hell up. “Go wait in the fucking truck.” 

You turn to Bradley, who looks just as upset as Jake. He nods towards the truck, his undone hawaiian shirt blowing in the slight breeze as he hands you his own stetson. “Go.” He says, and you pout, your one ally when it came to Jake was siding with him. You take his hat, wanting to poke fun at him for wearing it with a damn hawaiian shirt but stalk off silently to the truck, taking the keys from Jake’s outstretched hand. 

You sulk in the truck, angrily talking with yourself for god only knows how long while Jake and Bradley are inside the bar. You’re more than tempted to go poke your head in and find out what the hell is going on, but are afraid of upsetting Jake, so you don’t, opting to stay in the passenger seat as you nurse your slowing oncoming headache from your still throbbing face. He didn’t hit incredibly hard, but you were pretty sure it was going to bruise in such a sensitive area. You’re not one for violence, but you hope Jake knocks him around good for you. 

Just as you’re uncomfortable enough to start searching the center console and glove box for spare tylenol, the drivers side and rear doors open, scaring the hell out of you to the point that you jump. 

Jake hands you the papers, an awfully happy look on his face. “All done, babygirl.” He says, winking at you as you grin, taking the papers from him. 

“What the hell did you see in that punk, anyway?” Bradley asks from the backseat, leaning his head between the middle to look at you. He had a sheen of sweat on his forehead, and his skin was tinted red,as if he had been straining. 

“What the hell did you guys do?” You asks, looking between both of them. Jake was equally as flushed as sweaty as Bradley. You hand the latter back his hat, and he smiles gleefully. Jake just smirks at you and shakes his head, putting his hand on the top of his hat to keep it on your head. 

“Don’t worry about it, babygirl..we got it done, that’s all that matters.” He says, putting his keys in the ignition. 

You smile. “Okay, take these to the courthouse then, get them filed.” 

“First, we’re gonna stop by the jewelry store..” Jake says, pulling out of the parking lot, in the opposite direction of the courthouse. “Want to put a ring on that pretty ass finger of yours before they close..”

taglist:

@bellaireland1981 @sky0401 @memoriesat30 @bat-luna-cat @memeorydotcom @mamachasesmayhem @kmc1989 @justherebecausesafarisucks @mrowphine @djs8891 @stepheewdgirlie @roosteraloha @emma8895eb @itzmadimae @darksparklesficrecs @hookslove1592

#top gun #top gun maverick #jake seresin #jake hangman seresin #jake seresin fanfic #jake seresin fic #top gun jake #jake hangman fic #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake seresin fanfiction #jake seresin x reader

[justporo]

Scenes from a bathtub

A Night of Fake Smiles and Hidden Lies: Part 1

Author's Note: Here we are, I'm so excited to share the first chapter for this story. The part in which Tav and Astarion start getting ready, enjoying a nice soak in the tub - and some other stuff. Let me know what you think!

Song: Royals - Lorde

Pairing: Astarion/Fem!Tav Rating: Explicit Warnings: Some light smut at the very end of the chapter

CHAPTER LIST | PREVIOUS CHAPTER | NEXT CHAPTER

~~~

A few weeks had passed. The night of the ball had finally arrived.

Astarion had actually been excited ever since the invitation had been delivered. He really seemed eager to make it a night to remember for the both of you: so you had actually spent some more evenings waltzing around your space (also trying other dances) and Astarion had very cryptically promised you he’d take care of ‘wardrobe and grooming’. You dearly hoped he’d remember his promise about corsets and wouldn’t turn you into someone you wouldn’t recognise if you passed by a mirror.

It was still hours from then until the event started but Astarion had insisted on starting to get ready. You had looked at the clock and back to the vampire and back at the clock. Had it been only you, you’d probably only have run a bath half an hour before, then quickly dressed and done some basic makeup before arriving a little late. But as you told Astarion that he’d cocked an eyebrow and looked you up and down in such a judgmental way you’d first felt like a young girl getting scolded. And when he hadn’t stopped you’d gotten pissed at his pretentious behaviour. “My sweet sweet love, if you can’t even stand passive-aggressive stares for more than a few moments it’s going to be a very short evening. These people live off judging others and elevating their pitiful selves over you. And the trick is to just always be twice the bastard they are.” “Great, sounds like such a fun evening, Astarion.”

You had crossed your arms over your chest and had felt anxiety creeping up inside you. Already you had worried that you’d be awfully out of place at this event. But Astarion had grabbed your hands that you had firmly tugged away under your arms and placed them on your cheeks, covering yours with his own long fingers. “Don’t worry, my love, you’re fortunate enough to have a master of the art at your side to show you how it’s done”, he had said with a big smirk and given you a quick kiss. “And if that still doesn’t help just step on someone’s skirts or elbow them so they splash their drinks on somebody around and watch the chaos unfold. You wouldn’t believe how quickly these elitist people get physical if they feel their ‘honour’” – he dramatically air-quoted and rolled his eyes – “is at stake”, he had continued with an even bigger almost feral smirk when he’d noticed you were still tense. This – a good old brawl? You had seen and partaken in a fair share of those in your time as a Baldur’s Gate lowlife. You slowly had grinned back at your soulmate then: “No promises, I won’t do that anyway if these rich fuckers annoy me too much.” Astarion had thrown his head back and laughed: “Oh my lovely little anarchist.”

So now you were sitting in your big tub that was lowered in the stone floor of your bathroom.

The two of you loved spending almost whole nights just enjoying the warmth and comfort of a hot bath – talking, drinking wine, taking in the scents of exotic oils Astarion picked up from specialty stores, caressing and massaging each other; often times resulting in more passionate actions. This time the vampire had brought some ‘special’ stuff to really doll yourselves up for this big ball.

Currently, Astarion was sitting in between your legs, leaning back against your naked chest while you washed and detangled his curls and just enjoyed your care while breathing softly. Before, he had put some mud all over his face he claimed would “make his complexion glow even more”. The stuff indeed smelled nicely as it drifted into your nose while you massaged Astarion’s scalp carefully, but he still looked kind of ridiculous. Also you weren’t entirely convinced that this was how it worked for vampires.

Seldomly was the pale elf this relaxed. And this fact alone filled your heart with joy. You let your fingers move through his hair and softly massaged his neck and his ears as well which resulted in a soft, relaxed moan from him from time to time.

Astarion’s chest lifted in a particular deep breath, causing droplets of bathwater to run down his toned chest and the light from the candles you’d lit all over the room danced over his smooth skin. He really almost caused you to forget to breathe sometimes just by existing.

“This is heaven, my love. If this is what the afterlife is like I’ll happily perish right on the spot”, he sighed and let out a long breath. You smiled happily and really buried your fingertips in his curls once more causing the vampire to groan in pleasure and making his head loll from side to side.

With his eyes still closed he reached one arm slowly behind himself – obviously with the intention to reach your face. “Only thing missing now is a kiss from you, my sweet honey pie.”

“Sweet honey pie? What’s gotten into you?”

“Hmhm, can you blame me? Your fingers caressed me into oblivion, cherry muffin.” You scrunched up your nose and pinched the back of his neck. It seemed you really had worked common sense out of the man; he was talking mad.

“You know the implication it makes when you call me food related pet names, don’t you?”, you asked him, leaning close to one of his pointy ears. “Oh, very much so, even though I must inform you, that you taste neither off honey pie nor cherry muffins.”

Astarion started to stretch while speaking, tensing his muscles, reaching his arms even beyond you and yawning. The comparison to a cat was more than imminent. On their way back his hands found your head and stroked your hair despite the awkward angle.

“Aha, so what do I taste like to you, hm? Indulge me”, you requested and wrapped your arms around Astarion’s chest as he sidled up against you again. Your hands rested on each other on his stomach now, you leaned your chin on his shoulder. His arms were still stretched around his back to let his fingers wander through your hair.

“Well, when I first compared it to a good wine that was a very accurate description. But now, with some more, shall I say, expertise in your bouquet, I’d describe it like this: sometimes it’s like a wonderful red wine, full-bodied but with soft floral notes. But sometimes it’s more like delicious fruit covered in dark chocolate. It just… varies slightly: depending on what you eat, how you’ve been feeling, what time of month it is…” The last part surprised you: “You can taste… my cycle?” “Oh, not only that, but I can also smell it as well – I mean besides the obvious. You’d be surprised at what I can find out about you from taking a single nose full of your exquisite scent alone, my love.” You felt dumbfounded, he’d never mentioned that before. And you also didn’t need to see the smirk when he said that to know that it was there.

“Like?”, you simply asked, a bit embarrassed but also very much intrigued about this particular skill of his. Astarion didn’t like talking about the specifics of his condition very much so whenever he opened up about it you grasped the opportunity to learn more about it and him.

“Oh, for example, I can definitely always tell when you want me. And, if I dare say so, the intensity and frequency surprised even me, my wicked little siren”, Astarion explained, his tone deep and full of seduction. Your cheeks were burning, your whole neck and face actually. You softly slid down Astarion’s back and into the bathwater, desperately hoping for a sudden hole at the bottom of the tub that would hopefully swallow you whole.

The vampire had to grip the rim of the tub and straighten himself when you slithered down into the depths of the bathwater. You heard him laugh: “I can also most certainly tell whenever you get one of those full body blushes, my sweet.” He slowly moved to turn around to you, while you had sunk into the water, only your eyes and the top of your head still showing above the water level. Bubbles rose up while the last of your air left your nose and you looked at the vampire in embarrassment who simply looked back at you with a smile – face still covered in mud and only his red eyes contrasting with it; what a ridiculous scene.

Astarion softly grabbed you by the shoulders to prevent you from your attempt to drown yourself. You could see his signature smirk on his face. “Now, now, no need to feel ashamed, my lecherous little nymph. I couldn’t blame you, could I?” His grin split his face and his teeth glinted at you – most prominently his fangs. “Also, I can assure you that the feeling is very much mutual, beautiful. Now give me a kiss!”, he demanded while he had dragged you up from the water successfully.

With his hands still on your shoulders he pulled you towards him, lips already pursed in expectation.

“Not while you have dirt on your face”, you replied in disgust and placed your flat hand against his face to hold him off.

“It’s not dirt!”, Astarion exclaimed, voice rising in annoyance and grabbed your hand from his face. You still looked at him in disgust. “Ugh, fine!” He rolled his eyes and splashed water on his face and rubbed himself clean with his hands.

“Better?”, he asked after a few moments, tone still a bit annoyed. “No wait, there’s still a little bit”, you said and leaned close to him as if wanting to clean a speckle off his perfect face, brows furrowed in concentration. But with a lightning quick move you pinched his nose, making him growl back at you. He grabbed you by the shoulders once more and pulled you close until you were nose to nose while he stared angrily at you. “No poking the vampire!”, he said sombrely. “Or I’ll eat you!”

You giggled and closed the last bit of space to finally kiss him. And that seemed to calm down the beast. Letting go of your shoulders, one of his hands wandered to the front of your neck, softly resting on your collarbone. The other cupped your cheek while his tongue entered your mouth – tasting you, tangling with yours, exploring. Then he broke the kiss, leaving you to gasp, and trailing little pecks from the corner of your mouth over your cheek up to your ear.

You softly arched yourself to him, offering up your neck. “If you want to find out if today’s more of a wine or chocolate day.” The vampire laughed. Promise rang in it. “Deeply appreciated, my sweet, but maybe later. Can’t have you running around tonight with two fresh puncture wounds on your neck, can we?”, he whispered and let his lips wander lightly over your quickening pulse. His hand on your neck applying just the tiniest bit of pressure on your throat.

You could only gulp. “Also, I fear that if I would get lost in your neck now, we are never making it to this event”, Astarion added while lifting his face from your neck. Ah yes, you’d almost forgotten.

The pale elf smirked again at you: “And we still have some work to do on you, my sweet.” “Excuse you?” Whatever had heated your blood was immediately gone – this prick.

“You heard me, now turn around and let me take care of you in return, my love”, he insisted. You sighed and complied because you knew there was no point in denying him. And also, you wouldn’t say no to getting pampered by your vampire.

You let yourself be seated in the same position Astarion had been in at first: between his legs, your back to his chest. He put some of the goo on your face despite your protest (“It’s only going to bring out your beauty some more, my love.” “This face is as good as it gets as is, Astarion, no need to try.” “Hush and shut your nasty mouth or I can’t promise to keep the dirt out of it!”). Then he softly scrubbed you all clean and massaged your whole body, pouring some heavenly smelling oils in his hands from time to time.

The night before he had gone out to run some errands – and returned with bags and bags of stuff. It had been clothes and apparently lots of toiletry. One of the things had been large and very heavy. But about that and some other stuff he’d brought he had wiggled his finger at you to not take a peek.

Everything for your bath time he had neatly lined up next to the tub. You barely had a clue what all the small jars, flasks and crucibles were for but if it made him happy to indulge in it you were the last person to stop him from it.

Then he’d carefully run the bath you were now sitting in. And you couldn’t complain: the bath water smelled heavenly of lavender and cedar. Whatever he was massaging you with smelled of oranges and other delicious fruits and he himself deliciously of bergamot.

You sighed deeply and were aware that you must’ve been the perfect mirror image of what Astarion had looked like some minutes ago.

“Enjoying yourself, my love?”, Astarion asked gently while his hands worked your neck. You only hummed in response. “We should do this more often, darling. You’re allowed to indulge in luxury sometimes, you know?”, he said softly while starting to work on your hair.

“Speaking of – mind telling me how much exactly everything was you brought home yesterday?”, you asked while letting your head fall back into his touch, eyes closed. “Yes, I do mind. Part of indulgence is not looking at the price tag, my sweet”, Astarion scolded you sweetly. “And you deserve to take better care of yourself”, he continued while trying to get out a serious knot from your braids.

You felt your body tense a little and sighed: “You know I’m not good with either of those things, Astarion.” “I know”, he replied simply and shortly lifted one of your hands out of the water to press a kiss to it. “That’s why I’m going to teach you. I’ll have you be a high-maintenance lady ready to splurge at every opportunity in no time, dearest.” You laughed and readjusted your sitting position to lean back against the elf’s chest more. “I don’t think that would be a good look on me.” Astarion sighed dramatically: “Oh well, a shame. I guess I’m going to have to fill this role then.” You softly chuckled at that and thought to yourself that he was already well en route for that.

“I guess I could take up some of your suggestions though – I’m tired of feeling like a gutter rat standing next to you in all your luscious, white-curly glory.” Astarion snickered: “I’ll have you remember you chose the description ‘gutter rat’ for yourself. Also, I think you’re the most beautiful creature the Gods have ever created but to each their own I guess.” You blushed again and sank down a little further between his legs while he grabbed another one of the flasks.

Sometimes he just made you so casually swoon you couldn’t believe it – and never did you know how to reply to his genuine and sweet flattery.

“So, lesson one: you have really beautiful hair, my love, and I know you love your braids, but it all turns into a tangled mess easily. But fortunately,” – he poured something from the flask onto your prepared and detangled hair; it smelled deliciously flowery – “some clever soul came up with conditioner. You use it after you’ve washed your hair. Use only a little and work it into your hair like this.” He worked the thick liquid specifically into the lengths of your hair, combing through them with his fingers and then softly scrunching the strands in his hands. “Then you let it sit a little and only then rinse it out. It helps with tangles and also will make your hair deliciously soft.” Astarion basically purred the last words. Oh, good thing to know this was something he delighted in.

He did as he had instructed you while you patiently sat there and let him work his magic. Afterwards he proceeded to comb your hair through.

You both sat in silence. You enjoyed being taken care of and thought of the evening to come. You couldn’t help but feel some anxiety again creep into you at the thought of having to deal with the society of the Upper City. You’d probably take a good old-fashioned tavern brawl or a heist every day over having to make small talk with people who’d probably also choose the description “gutter rat” for you.

“Now”, Astarion said after a while “for tonight’s event I would like to propose to you to put your hair in some waves. Nothing major, just pinning them, letting them dry and then putting some strands up later.”

You were still way inside your head to fully understand what he was getting up: “Oh uhm, go ahead. Just don’t make me look like a coiffed poodle please.” Astarion scoffed at that and started to pin your hair up carefully.

“What’s troubling you, my love?”, he asked casually because of course he had noticed how you were absent-minded and your body had tensed. By what he had earlier revealed he’d probably smelled it too.

For a second you wondered if you ever could hide something from this man. But then again – why would you have to?

You sighed deeply while you grabbed your one hand with the other and started to press your thumb into the palm of the other – a nervous habit. “I guess, I’m still a bit scared of how the evening will play out”, you confessed and let your head fall down. Astarion wasn’t having it: “Ah ah, my sweet, head up or I can’t work. But also, head up because you don’t need to be worried. If push comes to shove, we can always leave.” You sighed again and relaxed a little. You shortly lifted your hand to grab one of his to squeeze it in thanks.

“Aren’t you scared at all? I mean, like of meeting someone… from before… or from before before?”, you asked silently and looked down at your hands still kneading each other in the water.

The vampire didn’t respond immediately. “You don’t have to answer-“, you started but then Astarion replied. “Not really. Cazador sometimes had us spawn ‘entertain’ his guests during his events but seeing as he either altered their memory or killed them off in the end… No one will recognise me albeit I may know some of the attending guests”, he explained pretty matter-of-fact while his hands kept working on putting up strand for strand of your hair.

Another silence followed.

“As from before that…” Astarion’s words trailed off. You grabbed his hand once more and almost already wanted to say again that he didn’t have to tell you but you kind of felt he wanted to let it out. “I haven’t seen or heard a shred from anyone I knew or was related to since I’ve been turned. Never. And my surname is pretty common among elves – there probably are at least five other Lord Ancuníns running about the city. I guess we might meet our lovely elder neighbour and that’s about it.”

His hands had stopped their task. Your hand was still grabbing one of his and you squeezed it again to try and provide some comfort. “I’m sorry, Astarion”, you whispered quietly and leaned your head back. It connected with his forehead as he leaned forward a little.

“Don’t be”, he whispered back while his fingers started to move again. “You’re my family now”, he said and at that your heart swelled with warmth and love.

“I love you, Astarion.” “Love you too, my little gutter rat.”

You tried to splash him with water.

How could he go from genuine, sincere and melancholy to unbelievable bastard in point two seconds. He was a handful at the best of times.

The vampire just laughed at your petty attempt of getting back at him. Shortly after he proclaimed being done with his work.

“There you go, now wash off your face, my dear”, he instructed. You did as told, then turned around to him: “Are we done now? I feel like I might’ve already grown some fins!”

Astarion smirked at you. “Oh no, there’s one more thing we need to take care of, my sweet”, he said slowly and threw you a glance that immediately made your blood boil. “And what might that be?”, you asked, already barely trusting your mouth to form words with the way he kept staring at you with his crimson gaze.

“Well, I can’t let you go to this event all tense and anxious, can I?”, he asked and moved closer to you, his gaze almost predatory. You gulped and moved back until your back hit the rim of the tub and there was no more space to escape from the prowling vampire. You felt heat form inside of you.

He moved in even closer, putting his arms around you as he leaned in to kiss your cheek.

“Luckily, I know just the right treatment for this kind of ailment”, he whispered and let his lips wander to your neck where your pulse had started hammering. He grabbed you then and lifted you up, so you sat on the floor just in front of the tub that was lowered into the ground. “That’s lesson two my love: always grasp onto the pleasures life offers you”, he whispered sinfully as he moved your legs, so your thighs were placed on his shoulders. You were already shuddering in expectation. You let one of your hands enter his soft curls as he made you lean back.

Astarion lowered his mouth to the space between your legs, letting his devilish silver tongue work its magic and devoured you as if you were a feast and he a starved man.

When lightning had struck the first time with your back arched impossibly at the way he had made you feel and your hand buried in his curls, he rose out of the tub. You watched him as trails of water ran down his perfect body, already yearning for more. To feel him, to love him.

You looked at him expectantly, seeing the love and the desire you felt mirrored in his ruby eyes. He lowered himself onto you on the edge of the tub, moving you back a little and made sure the second lightning struck both of you.

Tags: @aurasyn @margoteve @usuallyunlikelyfox @hollowmasque

#astarion #astarion x tav #baldurs gate #baldurs gate 3 #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate iii #astarion x reader #astarion x mc #baldurs gate astarion #astarion x oc #astarion x you #fanfic #fanfiction #astarion ancunin #bg3 spoilers #a night of fake smiles and hidden lies

[im-totally-not-an-alien-2]

Au of the Clone Au

Danny was a lot younger when he woke up in the labs containment chamber, lets say he's at the tail end of 14 and Tim is (still) 17. Niether is ready for a child or has any idea how to care for one.

Danny still decides to go with the alias Daniel Nightengale so that no one knows his real identity. He still has no idea who trapped him in the thermos or why but he finds himself working with one of Red Hoods gangs because no one else will hire a 14 year old and pay him enough money to raise a kid.

Also because he knew Red Hood and Batman notoriously don't get along so Red Hood could (hopefully) be convinced to give him some protection against the big bad bat if they ever got the chance to meet and he couldn't turn to charity's for help because CPS would 1000% take his baby away from him if they were contacted. So gang life it was. At least his powers made it very easy to do the jobs assigned to him with relative ease, he just had to make sure no one knew he had them.

The biggest difference in the au is that Danny stays in Gotham even after the Batman tries to intimate him into giving up custody. This unfortunately escalates to Danny running through the City of Gotham in the dead of night trying to escape the batman with his literal infant after the Dark Knight tried to take him by force from thier crappy abandoned apartment.

He somehow winds up in Red Hoods territory and the vigilante was very confused as to why this terrified teenager was blubbering and begging him not to take away his baby. Needless to say he and Batman get into an actual brawl once he hears the whole story. Turns out Batman didn't tell anyone Red Robin had a clone baby and was just planning to show up one day with the baby and raise it as thier newest brother.

Jason wasn't about the let that happen and opened com links to everyone else and ratted thier dad out. He had noticed the teenager had escaped with the baby but he didn't care about that at the moment. He needed to beat up his dad.

Red Robin did eventually track Danny down that night and cornered him in an alleyway. He winced at the look of terror on the others face. He didn't think he had ever seen someone so scared of him before. He approached with his hands raised in surrender, speaking softly about how he just wanted to see his son. How he would have loved to meet them both under better circumstances and he had no plans of taking the baby away from thier parent (he wasn't going to mention that the other bats were already referring to the other teenager as the "mother")

This miiight escalate into a global game of "Where's Waldo" with the entirety of the Justice League and its affiliates searching for him. But if there's one thing Danny is good at, its hiding in plain sight.

#fanfiction prompts #prompts #red hood #jason todd #dp x dc #danny phantom #danny fenton #tim drake #red robin #batman #bruce wayne #batman screwing up again #and terrorizing danny #Jason probably helps out Danny by giving him a place to crash and Danny promises to work extra hard for him #jason is confused until danny explained he was in hoods gang and did illegal stuff for him #jason freaks out a bit #so does tim from the rooftop he was eavesdropping on thier conversation from #lol im hiding things in the tags again #oh well

[auroravictorium]

vigilante shit (k.b.)

Summary: set nearly two years before the events of midnights, reader is fighting for survival in ketterdam after escaping her indenture contract before it can be stamped. after a confrontation with a few merchants, a certain bastard of the barrel arrives and offers her a deal that may ensure her survival in the city.

Pairing(s): kaz brekker x reader (eventually) Word Count: 4.8k Warnings: violence (stabbing, bludgeoning, shoving, reader killing four people), blood, injuries (dislocated shoulder, stab wounds, cuts, gashes, etc.), numerous mentions of indentured servitude (reader escaping this, exploitation of indentures in the city, etc.) Genre: action and lil angst Author's Note: rue publishing a new part just a few days after the last one?? who IS she?? anyway, here is reader's backstory + how she and kaz met :)) this will be important for the next part (back in the present) because it'll be mentioned, so i'm choosing to share this one first for lore purposes

masterlist

Summer in Ketterdam was unbearable. The near-constant cloud cover trapped the heat low, threatening to make residents collapse as they made their daily commutes and errands. Bright costumes of the West Stave stuck to the skin of their wearers. Good-for-nothing bureaucrats dabbed at their foreheads and pulled at their collars, trying desperately to find relief from the heat. Even gangsters had halted their usual brawls in the streets, preferring to drink themselves into a stupor until dusk arrived or avail themselves of whatever cool water could be found.

As the government ceased its already pitiful operations due to the heat, and gangsters took the day off, the city lapsed into a sleepy state. You took advantage of the sluggishness, ducking through the streets of the Financial District and nimbly swiping what you could as you went. Wallets, loose jewelry, colorful kruge poking out of pockets. Everyone was too hot to notice the thief among them, and those who did a few moments later didn't bother to give chase.

Finally, you heard a bell chime seventeen times in the distance. The Exchange was closed for the day, and merchants would be making their way home with bulging wallets and smug faces. Perfect.

You headed north, disappearing into the crowds of merchants and regular citizens alike and searching for wide eyes or furrowed brows, darting glances, and those who kept to themselves. New merchants, unaware of the dangers of being near the Exchange after it closed. 

A few merchants trailed toward the Geldstraat, packets of papers in their hands with thick red seals at the top that you would recognize anywhere—indenture paperwork. From the looks of it, each man held a dozen fresh indentures in his hands, ready to be stamped to confirm the transfer of a human being from one bastard’s hands to the next.

Yet, moving in the opposite direction, a lone merchant with a poorly-tailored coat and bulging pockets filled with colorful kruge that needed to be deposited.

Freedom, or the funds that could make a difference in whether you made it to the end of the week.

If you were wise but heartless, you'd chase the lone man and tackle him once he was out of sight of the Exchange. Ketterdam had a way of ripping the soul from a person, making them make the worst decisions for survival.

But you'd almost been one of those indentures, had your name on one of those papers that almost got stamped. You'd been just blocks from the courthouse, huddled in a clunky carriage with five other women when you'd gotten the courage to stab the driver through the small window with the sharpened edge of a piece of cutlery you'd swiped.

One moment, you'd been stuck in that carriage, passing over a cobbled bridge. The next, you had those bloodstained papers in your hand, snatched from the inside of the driver’s coat pocket, and were running. You ran until you felt your lungs would give out, until you were sure the dots in your vision would turn to full-blown darkness and you’d collapse right there in the street amongst garbage and empty bottles.

But you'd made it. You'd disappeared into the Barrel, tossed the papers in a rubbish bin, and lit it on fire. Partially an act of self-preservation, partially an act of helping the indentures who'd scrambled out of the carriage after you. Had they made it? You didn't know. You hoped so. 

Thinking of the women who’d been taken into Ketterdam with you made something spark in your chest. Swearing under your breath, you wove through crowds of merchants and market prodigies and started to trail the group of merchants heading toward the Geldstraat. Conversations of auctions, trade deals, and under-the-counter offers flowed in one ear and out the other. At any other time, those conversations would catch your interest; but you’d set your mind to something, could feel an urgency running beneath your skin like electricity, and the words passed in and out of your ears without sticking.

These damned merchants walked fast, even in the heat, and you soon made your way onto the packed Geldstraat. Glancing around for an opportunity to gain some leverage–a rooftop would be nice, or a distraction–you found none. This was the part of the city reserved for the wealthy; clean and filled with well-dressed residents who eyed you as you passed by in your loose-fitting tunic and well-worn trousers. Your boots were in an even worse condition, and you felt the ridges and dips in the cobblestones beneath your feet as you tried your best to look inconspicuous.

The Government District was fast approaching as you headed north, and your time to swipe these papers was running out. Fuck it.

As the mouth of the Geldstraat opened up to let people pour into the Government District, you made your move, darting forward and to the right of one of the merchants; as you passed, you yanked hard on his pocketwatch, pulling it from his pocket with enough force that he definitely noticed. “Oy!” he shouted, reaching for you in an attempt to apprehend you, or maybe grab the pocketwatch dangling from your hand. “Thief!”

You skirted to the side, high-tailing it back toward an alleyway you’d passed not thirty seconds ago. There’d been something metallic on the ground–a piece of pipe, you hoped–that caught what little sun came through the clouds and reflected it.

Boots pounded against the ground behind you, sending a rush of adrenaline through your body, enough to stave off the sluggishness of your muscles from the heat. Come get me, you son of a bitch, you thought, your legs burning as you skidded into the alleyway and scooped the object you’d seen from the ground: a rusty, jagged piece of drainpipe that had fallen from the edge of one of the roofs. It was perfect, especially since you had yet to acquire a better weapon than the flimsy dagger strapped to your hip and wanted to keep these bastards as far away from you–an eligible person to be indentured if they got their hands on you, as far as they were concerned–as possible.

You barely had enough time to survey it to decide which end would be better for bludgeoning before the sound of pounding boots caught up to you, and you adjusted your sweaty grip on the metal and faced the mouth of the alley as four tall shadows blocked it.

The merchants were bigger than they looked when you’d trailed them, and you recognized their clothing as being Fjerdan, rough material that did little to keep them cool in this heat. Oh, fantastic. Leave it to me to pick a fight with some wannabe Druskelle.

But their height gave you an advantage, one you’d quickly learned to utilize in the few months you’d been on the streets: being taller made them slower. And, judging from the lack of bulges at their waists and ankles, they were unarmed. 

Tall and dumb; your day was starting to look up.

The merchant you’d robbed stuffed his papers into his coat pocket. “I believe you have something that belongs to me,” he said, his accent thick as he spoke. His eyes fell to the pipe in your hand, then the pocketwatch dangling out of your pocket. “If you hand it back now, I’ll reconsider how much I rough you up.”

“You should have armed yourself before making threats you won’t be able to follow through on,” you shot back. Your voice was remarkably steady, even as you were realizing there was a good chance at least one of them would land a strike on you while you were trying to get their papers. You wouldn’t be walking out of this uninjured, but when had you ever escaped a fight without scrapes and bruises? Such was the nature of the city. It took, and it took, and it took until its people had nothing left to give aside from their bones.

And this cause had settled itself on your shoulders like a weight you couldn’t shake. So let Ketterdam have your bones, but only after you wiped these bastards out first.

The merchant lunged, and you swung the pipe. The weight was unnatural in your hand, and you couldn’t get a good grip on it; but the pipe landed true, smashing into the merchant’s skull with a sickening crack as the other three rushed toward you. One of them took a detour, catching his comrade as he crumpled to the filthy ground, while the other two went straight for you. 

You swung the pipe like a bat, bashing it into one’s stomach and making him hunch over before whirling to land a hit on the other. You didn’t have enough momentum to do lethal damage, but the very edge of the pipe made a long cut across your new foe’s face. Redness bloomed on the skin, and blood seeped down; his progress was slowed, but not stopped.

He shoved you back against a brick wall, and the impact knocked the breath from your lungs. Son of a– Your muscles burned as you gasped, pain rocketing up and down your spine, and your grip on the pipe almost loosened.

Almost.

The man tried to wrench it from your grasp, taking advantage of your breathlessness, but you kept ahold of it. “Give it,” he growled, yanking the pipe hard enough to make your shoulder pop as you fought to keep possession of it. Pain shot up and down your arm, and you were forced to release the pipe as your shoulder popped out of place.

You swore in pain, tears pricking your eyes and your good hand dropping to your belt and unsheathing your dagger before twisting it in your hand and jabbing it as hard as you could toward the man’s chest while he grabbed at the pipe. It drove home, embedding in an upward angle beneath his ribcage; it wasn’t perfect, and you were sure it wasn’t a lethal blow, but it caused the man to stagger back and drop to his knees. You ripped the blade from his chest and the pipe from his hand, pausing only to stomp your foot down over the wound hard enough for a few ribs to crack.

He cried out in anger, writhing against the ground, but you didn’t have time to savor the noise before another merchant was on you, the one you’d bashed in the stomach with the pipe.

With the dagger in your good hand and the pipe in your limp one, you dodged his attempt to punch you. The heat pressed down on you, and sweat soaked through your clothing as you and the merchant circled each other around his comrade on the ground. The one you’d initially hit was still being worked on by his companion; apparently, the pipe had done more damage than you’d thought, which filled you with a twisted sense of satisfaction.

The last merchant standing launched himself at you, and you dodged, slamming your injured shoulder against the opposite wall with a hard enough impact that something crunched. The pipe dropped from your hand again, and you were forced to let it fall for good. Leaning to grab it would be a death sentence.

Well…

You ducked slightly, letting the merchant think you’d gone for the pipe, only to twist at the last moment and slash the dagger across his chest in a wide arc. Blood bloomed beneath his beige tunic, and you slashed again as he stumbled in pain. More blood splattered, sliding down the blade of your knife and onto the handle, making your hand slick with red. It was warm, unpleasantly so, and your stomach twisted with nausea.

No matter how long you were in the city, you weren’t sure you’d ever get used to the feeling of someone else’s blood on your skin.

The merchant cried out as you drove the knife through his throat, cutting the noise off with a nauseating gurgle. He slumped to the ground, nearly falling onto you, and you stumbled out of the way to avoid it. A hand grabbed at your ankle, and you toppled onto the merchant you’d stabbed earlier.

Grunting, you pushed yourself away, skin scraping against gravel and glass shards on the alleyway ground, and grabbed your blade, driving it down into his chest one more time. Without your bad arm, you couldn’t hold yourself steady. Or maybe it was the adrenaline wearing off that caused the trembles. You weren’t sure. Either way, you managed to gasp out, “For them,” before staggering to your feet once more to handle the final merchant who was tending to the now-dead man you’d robbed.

“The indentures,” you rasped as you approached, your knees shaking as pain took hold. It was getting harder to stay upright, especially with the heat weighing you down and making the pain feel ten times worse. “Where are they?”

“I-I don’t–” the merchant began, his voice wobbling. 

“Shall I help you remember?”

Your boot made contact with the merchant’s face, and something crunched with the impact. His nose, judging by the way he toppled over and cupped his face. A sob passed his lips, but you didn’t stop your advance. 

“I won’t ask again,” you said, stopping over the man as he lay on the ground, nearly curled in a fetal position. Your heart raced in your ears, loud enough to almost drown out the next words that left your mouth. “Where are they?”

“Warehouse district,” he sobbed, trembling as you stopped before him. “One of the big ones owned by one of the–one of the councilmen.”

That was all you needed to hear.

You could have left him alive. Could have let him scramble to his feet and leave the alleyway to report what had happened to one of the pigs that called themselves the Stadwatch, not that they’d do anything. Could have let him recuperate and return to the Exchange in a few days with too much pride to admit a girl on the streets had briefly held his life in his hands.

But you thought of those indentures, probably trafficked, waiting in the warehouse for news that their lives had been determined for them. You remembered the fear you’d felt after being captured and taken into the city with several other women your age, women whose fates were unknown after you’d been forced to leave them behind in a bid for survival. You remembered the desperation as you’d ground that piece of cutlery against the stone floor in your holding room, sharpening it into something that would free you.

You thought of them, and you dropped to your knees, driving the knife into his throat hard enough that you faced some resistance once the hilt met flesh. The man’s sobs went quiet. His body twitched, his eyes rolling for a moment before going still. His chance to live disappeared as quickly as that.

Though you longed to sit back, to collapse into the ground and catch your breath, you feared two things. One, you wouldn’t be able to get back up. Two, the Stadwatch would find you and have you hauled to jail. You’d managed to avoid it thus far, but today was not the day you wanted your luck to change. Not when you had a job to complete.

Numbly, you searched the men, one by one, until you collected all of the paperwork and kruge you could find from their bodies. Dozens of indenture contracts, a few hastily scribbled receipts from transactions at the Exchange, and a few notes recording debts to be paid. 

The contracts needed to be burned. The rest could be thrown away; let someone find them and wonder what happened to the bastards who’d written them.

As you collected your dagger and wiped it off on the tunic of the man you’d robbed, the hair on the back of your neck prickled uncomfortably. It wasn’t from the heat, nor from your conscience being stirred into an upset at what you’d just done. No, someone was watching you. 

You turned your gaze to the rooftops, slowly turning on your heel as you searched for the source of that gaze. It wasn’t threatening; if it was, the person would have attacked. It was merely surveillance. Soon, you spotted a shadow pressed against a chimney, one that hadn’t been there before. Perhaps more obviously, the shadow moved, slinking closer to the edge of the roof before grabbing hold of the remaining pipe along the edge and swinging itself over as if on someone’s signal.

You stumbled back toward the mouth of the alley and raised your dagger, but the person made no move to attack. The figure was short and slim, and you saw wayward hairs peeking out from beneath their hood; a woman. Another person trying to survive on the streets? No, she was too well-dressed for that, with new-ish shoes, and clothes that fit with no visible tears or stains.

The woman didn’t approach, and you continued taking slow steps back, hoping to get out of the alley before the woman changed her mind and tried to stab you. I don’t think I can take down another person, you thought, least of all her, with at least five daggers strapped to her that you could see; you were willing to be that there were more.

There were soft footsteps near the mouth of the alleyway, followed by a tapping between each step, the sound of wood against the cobblestones. Your heartbeat picked right back up again, and you swiveled, pressing your back to the alley wall as another figure stepped into the mouth of the alleyway and blocked your escape.

The horrendous hat on his head made you think it was an officer with the Stadwatch, but the face beneath that hat was one of a boy no older than you. His skin was pale, drawn across angular cheekbones that cast sharp shadows down his face in the poor amount of sunlight filtering through the clouds. You couldn’t see his eyes, but you felt them; they pierced you with ease, scrutinized you, and evaluated everything from your messy hair to the blood soaked into your boots. They settled on the limpness of your arm for a moment, and you fought the urge to hide it behind your back.

“You’re a difficult person to track down, Y/N L/N,” the boy said, his voice raspy like sandpaper hissing across unfinished wood. His tone was devoid of humor. Instead, he spoke with a bluntness that told you this was merely business for him. A business that somehow involved him knowing your name.

You clamped your mouth shut, fighting the urge to ask how he knew your name. You were getting the sense that you didn’t want to know the source of that information, though you were willing to bet it was the woman standing just feet away from you. “Is that so?” you said instead, keeping your voice as steady as you could.

You were cornered, and you didn’t like that at all. Your skin itched with the urge to make a run for it, to shove this boy out of the way and bolt as far as your legs could take you. You’d done it before, had escaped from that carriage and gotten to this point. But this boy reeked of danger, of power, of a willingness to be cruel, if need be. He was not someone you wanted to make an enemy with.

The boy shifted his weight, twirling the head of the cane in his hand with a precision that told you he’d been using it for a while. That piercing gaze left you for a moment, and you assumed he was examining the damage you’d done to the four merchants in the alleyway. He was silent for a few long moments, then spoke again. “Aren’t you supposed to be serving one of the councilmen at his residence right now?”

Your blood turned to ice. He knew you were supposed to be an indenture. He knew you were not where you were supposed to be. He could turn you in, could get you taken back into custody for your paperwork to finally be stamped. Somewhere, there had to be a copy of your indenture paperwork. Just my luck.

“Come to collect me, have you?” Somewhere alongside your shock and terror was anger. Your knuckles tightened on the hilt of your dagger like you might throw it at the boy, and you saw the girl with the hood shift her fingers ever so slightly toward a dagger at her waist. Definitely allies.

“No.”

“So, you’ll let me leave the alley and go on my merry way after you finish making poorly disguised threats?”

“No.”

Throwing the dagger was looking more and more tempting if only you could ignore the fact that you’d also get a dagger to the chest if you did so. You were in enough pain as it was. “State your business, then,” you said, trying to keep your chin held high as you struggled to puzzle this out. This boy had power and allies, that was clear. But who was he, and why did you get the sense that you should know who he was?

“I’ve heard some of the chaos you’ve caused,” the boy said, tapping his cane against the ground a few times, almost impatiently. “A string of robberies on the outskirts of the Barrel, pickpocketing after the Exchange closes for the day, a few brawls here and there.”

“How can you possibly attribute those to me?” you said, though every word he’d spoken was true. The Barrel was rife with crime; nobody batted an eyelash at robberies anymore, and reporting them to the Stadwatch was useless. That was gang territory, and everyone knew it.

The boy tilted his head, ignoring your question. “Now, I’m curious why you’ve graduated to murder. These men are merchants?” He nudged a limp hand with his boot. “It’s quite a jump, petty crimes to killing.”

“You speak as if you know from experience.”

He ignored you again. “I have a deal for you, Y/N.”

“I don’t make deals with strangers, especially not those who particularly enjoy hearing themselves talk.” Your words were short and deadpan, but you noticed the hooded girl’s shoulders shake slightly with silent laughter. The prickling gaze that had been on you disappeared for a moment, likely to direct a glare at the girl, and it returned to you twice as sharp as before.

“Have you heard of the Dregs?” the boy asked, tapping his cane against the ground again as if this was all a tedious chore for him. You didn’t bother answering, because he proceeded on anyway. “We control a wide area of the Barrel, and the Dime Lions and a few smaller groups control the rest, which I’m sure you know since you’ve only robbed from disputed areas where you think nobody can catch you.”

“But you have caught me, and now you’re here to enact justice,” you said. Some mocking seeped into your voice before you could stop it, and the boy sighed in exasperation. If he was concerned about getting you to agree to whatever deal he had in store, he had to realize he wasn’t earning much approval from you.

“No. I see a use for you, and I want to capitalize on it.” The boy rolled his shoulders back and tightened his gloved fingers on the head of his cane. “In exchange, you’ll have a roof over your head and get paid for each job.”

Some of your desire to be sarcastic disappeared when he mentioned housing and wages. You couldn’t deny how tempting that was; to have a roof over your head instead of fabric wrapped around you when the rain came down would be bliss, and to have an income you could regularly count on? You’d feel like the wealthiest girl in Ketterdam, like getting taken to the city had been a good thing.

“What type of jobs?” you finally said, not wanting to agree so quickly. You refused to exchange one terrible contract for another. Ketterdam could make the worst situations appear like a blessing from the Saints themselves if you didn’t ask the right questions as to their nature. 

“Robberies, mostly. Tracking leads on opportunities for kruge. Working shifts at the Crow Club in between.” He tightened his grip on the head of his cane again as if he could tell that you were considering his offer. “At the very worst, you’ll be taking out those who threaten my business. Dime Lions, mainly, but you seem to be quite comfortable with the idea of murder.”

Dregs. Crow Club. My business.

Recognition struck you. You remembered hearing about a shift in power in the Dregs that happened just before you arrived in Ketterdam. The leader, Per Haskell, had been ousted by his lieutenant, a boy called Dirtyhands. Saints, what was his name? The whispers rarely mentioned it, as if he had ears everywhere and could strike at any moment. From the tales you’d heard, you wouldn’t be surprised if he could; they’d been enough to deter you from robbing anywhere in territory firmly controlled by the Dregs. He’d been right about that, just like everything else about you.

“How often do you personally recruit people to your cause, Kaz Brekker?” you said, unhitching yourself from the wall. Slowly, you held up your dagger before making a show of sliding it back into the sheathe at your waist. The hooded girl who’d been watching you and the boy size each other up relaxed, dropping her hand from the dagger she’d been prepared to grab.

Kaz Brekker’s lips quirked upward on one side, a half smile indicating he knew exactly what you’d just been thinking. “Only when they serve my interests,” he said. “Do we have a deal?”

“Only if it serves my interests,” you said, and you thought you saw the ghost of approval cross the parts of Brekker’s face that you could see. You grabbed the stack of indenture paperwork from where you’d propped it under your bad arm and held it up, showing the vivid red stamp to Brekker and his companion. “These people are being held in the Warehouse District, awaiting their indenture notice. I want them released.”

You expected a long silence to stretch between the two of you. It was a bold move for you to make a demand as part of your deal, especially since Brekker made it clear it was a rarity for him to bother recruiting people personally. But, to your surprise, Brekker nodded once.

“Alright,” he said. He held out his hand, and you took a few steps forward to pass the paperwork into his gloved fingers. He skimmed the pages briefly before tucking them into his black coat. “Did these men tell you which warehouse?”

You cast a glance toward the last one you’d killed, frowning slightly. “One owned by a councilman. He wasn’t more specific.” 

Brekker didn’t seem bothered by the limited information. Instead, he only nodded once toward the hooded girl who had observed all this. “Inej, see what you can find. I’ll escort our new recruit back to the Slat.”

Inej disappeared as quickly as she’d arrived, effortlessly climbing back up the wall and onto the rooftop before darting off without making a single sound. You watched her go, feeling awe burn in your chest as she disappeared without a trace. How long had it taken her to master that? Would she teach you, if you asked? She radiated such quiet power, and you wondered if the new mess you’d found yourself in would teach you just the same.

Kaz Brekker jerked his head back toward the alleyway entrance. “Let’s go. I don’t fancy having to deal with Stadwatch when they find the bodies.” He turned on his heel and strode off without another word, his cane tapping lightly against the ground as he went. He didn’t bother to wait for you or make sure you were following. 

Another chance to back out, to reconsider joining the Dregs and binding yourself to a gang known for its leader's brutality. But maybe… Maybe the Dregs could give you some leverage and a better chance of survival in the city. You would no longer be fighting for enough food to make it through the week, would no longer be considered on the run; you could wipe your past clean and destroy whatever copy of your indenture paperwork Brekker had found that could come back to bite you and start over. 

And the thought of starting over, of becoming someone new, was enough to make you follow after one of the most dangerous people in Ketterdam.

taglist: @tonberry-yoda, @b3kk3r-by-br3kk3r, @futurecorps3, @statsvitenskap, @sapphiccloud, @casualladyinternet, @d34drapunzel, @noctemys, @whitejxsmine, @so6, @franzelt, @ell0ra-br3kk3r, @marlene-the-witch, @thestudiouswanderer, @lyjen, @rideacowb0y, @weasleybuns, @dal-light, @mariatpwk, @dreammgc, @elysian-chaos, @breadbrobin,@poppyflower-22, @halfofagayallofaqueer, @battleraven, @amarokofficial ,@tenaciousperfectionunknown, @madnessinwrighting, @ponyboys-sunsets, @circus-of-thoughts, @empresspenguin18, @mediocrestuff, @stonksman8, @alanis-altair, @thefandomplace, @alohastitch0626, @the-royal-paintbrush, @just-here-for-ff, @whos6claire, @jodiereedus22, @be-lla-vie, @despoinapav05, @arianyo, @willowpains, @geekmom3, @dark-academia-slut, @aeslenya, @directioner5life, @notjustsomeblonde, @osteopsycho, @travelingmypassion, @tiana76, @angelhxneyy, @princessatoru, @urlocalgeek, @lonelywitchv2, @bookloverfilmoholic, @taerae515, @morrigan-crowmwell

please note: if your name is struck through above, i was unable to tag you.

#kaz brekker #crooked kingdom #six of crows #six of crows duology #kaz brekker x reader #kazzle dazzle #soc kaz #soc fanfic #soc inej #soc nina #nina zenik #jesper fahey #soc jesper #shadow and bone #the grishaverse #shadow and bone season 2 #sab season 2 #grishaverse fanfic #freddy carter #the crows #inej ghafa #inej my queen #midnights but make it kaz brekker #kaz brekker x fem!reader #kaz brekker x you #sab season two

[vagabond-umlaut]

ramé 6.0

love.

a word everyone spells as l-o-v-e, except one certain young sorcerer – to whom it appears h-a-p-p-y, to whom it appears h-a-v-o-c – to whom it appears the shape of the letters of your name.

you, on the other hand, forget how to spell when the same word is before you – a fact which, your admirer reckons, would have been a major problem were he not he – that is, were he not the one and only 'gojo satoru'.

and thus begins, the plan.

and thus begins, the six steps to catch one's crush's eye — by the six eyes.

|6/6| this isn't really a way. if you're at this step, just fuckin' stop and retreat. your crush won't ever notice you – you sad, pathetic loser.

[READ 1.0 HERE AND 2.0 HERE AND 3.0 HERE AND 4.0 HERE AND 5.0 HERE!]

▸ student!gojo satoru x student!reader; fem!reader; the promised sunshine ending to this work's finally here!! ft. the classic angst-to-tooth-rotting-fluff trajectory, the best four friends one can ever get, and, the sweetest romance between 'toru and shortie becoming official freaking-finally! [THE CHAP TITLE'S MISLEADING. OF SORTS. :))]

▸ sorry but i had to squeeze in a scene of shoko and suguru being the best drinking buddies ever. AND AND AND- jjk season two, my beloved-beloathed...

▸ find other parts of 'ramé' and other [stand-alone] fics set in the same universe as this work here! anyways, image, divider & characters ain't mine. pls don't plagiarize, translate or repost this. enjoy reading! ❤️

"is that what you really think?"

gojo wonders if a momentous occasion as the one now deserves one brawl thrown into it or not. it won't be anything much; just dumping a bowl of soup down suguru's shirt and/or landing a pretty solid kick to his stomach and/or-

"careful, senpai or you might've to go home, bloody and beaten," the most monotone voice ever possible crashes into his thoughts in the worst possible way. a snicker, far too familiar, joins in. "yeah, nanami's right. besides, we haven't even clicked a pic yet. you wouldn't want to wear a black eye in it, would you?"

clinking his glass with shoko's, the white-haired watches suguru gulp down a shot of tequila, then give a mighty firm shake of his head. "no, of-fucking-course not. today is our dearest kouhai's important day; i don't wanna get involved in any drama now; though..." trailing off, the black-haired boy shoots gojo an awfully obvious side-glance before a look shared with the others.

the boy lets his eyes wander away from them. an abominably sharp acrylic nail pokes him in the cheek. gojo exhales a sigh, so exhausted.

were it just a day, the boy's certain to the hell and back, that he would have whipped up a snarky insult to the stink-eye aimed his way. the boy would have slapped his drunk classmate's hand away, calling her sense of fashion the worst names possible.

gojo, however, decides to resort to neither today. he decides to settle for a sigh - the second in the last minute, longer and wearier than the one before - and rests his face into the hollow of his palms, screwing eyes shut.

an exasperated grumble - or two, maybe - permeates the air.

"gojo senpai," the words ring out in a tone far too soft and worried. he muses he doesn't need to look to see the sympathetic frown haibara must be wearing, nor the varying degrees of pity and concern etched into the others' features. a warm hand squeezes his shoulder slightly.

haibara continues, "geto senpai is not entirely wrong, y'know? yes, of course, implying you might kick up drama is sorta wrong, i admit so. but otherwise... you could've tried to, i don't know, somehow find out the reason behind her sudden distance from you?"

opening his eyes, gojo twists to face his kouhai, ready to interrupt him, but stops at the earnestness in his gaze. "turning into a recluse or moping around isn't gonna solve anything, senpai. it's been more than a month since then and from what little i've seen, i can say it's eating the both of you alive. you, way more than her. so, go, speak with her," he urges him with a smile, "the others are not very well at showing their emotions but trust me when i say, we all are worried for you both, senpai."

the white-haired boy drags his gaze away from the speaker. suguru gives him a smile, shoko pokes him in the cheek again, nanami offers a fleeting impression of something smiley before looking away with a grimace.

gojo's eyes flit back to the encouraging boy before.

"okay," the upperclassman relents with a sigh, which instantly grows into a frown the moment every piece clicks into place in his mind and the goggles-wearing boy swears his heart skips a beat, "but what did you say about seeing shortie and know-"

stopping in the middle of the question, the boy stiffens.

three glasses shatter on impact with the floor, freed from the waiter's grasp, soon followed by two maids screeching your name in the most terror-struck voice ever manageable. gojo's six eyes provide him with enough details as always; albeit it seems miles from enough now, the way it always is in your case, further deepening the sorcerer's need to physically see you once; to soak in the brilliance of your gaze and the sweetness of the curve of your lips once.

who knows if he'll ever see you again from as close as- okay, no, wait-

"did you just run all the way here-"

"i love you."

"-in your heels?"

everything falls silent the moment the last word leaves gojo's lips and a shuddered breath escapes him into the bittersweet fragrance of the citrus perfume he remembers you using. in a lilac dress with a messy hairstyle and diamond studs, the youngest and newest leader of your clan stands before him, cheeks stretched in a wide grin.

whirling his seat round completely, the boy gives you one long look, only to earn a hauntingly soft look in return.

you smile.

"i know you might see me as the most inconsistent, lying, crazy bitch at best or as the most opportunistic bitch ever, trying to seduce you, for lack of a better term, to satisfy her craving for power, at worst; but no matter how you see me, how others see me, how i see myself - i'm in love with you, that's one thing which won't change no matter what."

you pause.

and as he watches you catch your breath after that long as hell sentence para, the first realisation which crashes on gojo's otherwise numb brain is: you too haven't changed.

not. one. bit.

from the way you stick to your minimal makeup look; to the way you speak sans any break and curse yourself as you confess to something (you think you did) wrong; to the way your gaze remains fixed on him, acutely trained on even the mildest twitch of his facial muscles... one whole month has passed since that stormy evening yet you're still the same you.

a little sweet. a little sour. a whole lot perfect-

who loves him-

who loves him-

you. love. him. too.

for the first time in an apparent eternity, gojo feels his lips lift in a free smile. although the chuckle leaving him sounds laden with moisture and emotions.

"i'll die before calling you a seductress, shortie," the boy says, "you're way too dumb and naive for that." your eyes move to the girl drinking beside him for a second, before settling back on him, a light sheen in them. smile widening yet growing a tender quality, he goes on to say, "and i know you aren't a liar; but regarding the inconsistent claim... i think an explanation's long overdue, isn't it?"

you huff a mild chuckle. stuffing your hands into your dress pockets, your senpai watches you draw in a long breath before letting it out in a whoosh, a tiny smile nestling in the corner of your lips. you begin.

"you know, right, my eldest brother was the clan leader before me? y'know, after my father just decided, one fine day, he's growing old and so he wants to retire somewhere peaceful now, with my mom, leaving me in the care of takeshi nii-chan and his wife?"

four pairs of eyes switch to him in silent query. ignoring them, gojo nods. it isn't everyday you speak so openly of your family, especially this topic concerning them.

considering how painful and sore it is for you.

how big of an escapist your father is.

how big of an asshole your brother is.

how utterly difficult it is for you to navigate in this household daily.

your sigh interrupting his thoughts, he hears you continue, "well, all was going well until it was not; and i decided i'd already spent too much time being a spectator to my life and future keeping getting kicked around like a fucking soccer ball."

few gasps sound in the vicinity, undoubtedly at you cussing. nanami's smooth voice cuts in through their shocked surprise, and through the bubble, gojo was under the impression, he and you had slipped into.

judging from the tiny start you give, the white-haired boy surmises you too must have felt the same.

your classmate's solemn voice sounds in the hush, though traces of a hesitation can still be found in it when he asks, "they... didn't arrange a wedding for you in the month you were here... did they?"

"they did," you're quick to answer, voice growing a steely quality, "the higher-ups and my brother decided to get me engaged to-"

"to whom?"

gojo's lips quirk up at the way you roll your eyes at suguru's impatient question, then look at him, a tired smile creeping onto your features. but, hey! is that a tinge of shyness on your face that the boy can see?

you point your chin at him. "to 'toru, who else?"

the second (or maybe, the third) bout of silence would have followed this statement of yours too - if not for the cackling girl beside gojo. the latter makes no effort to conceal his irritation, shooting the most vicious glare ever; shoko simply raises her glass, as if in a toast, then tosses you a smirk.

"you love him, still you don't wanna get hitched with him? not very clever of you, yeah?"

"yeah," haibara chips in, albeit much less teasing and more a worried timbre than shoko, the shades-wearing boy deems. the other student continues, brows creasing together, "plus, i doubt gojo senpai saying no to the proposal. so, why didn't you go ahead with it?"

your head tilts to one side. your lips twitch in a knowing fashion.

"you just said the reasons yourself, yu-kun."

years later, if someone asks gojo when's the time he realised he's in love with you, too deep and too far gone to ever consider anyone but you by his side, as his other and undoubtedly better half, the sorcerer will grin the goofiest grin ever and sigh the dreamiest sigh ever, and say, "every day."

which is the truth, really-

yet, from those 'every day'-s, there exist few such days, whom the six-eyes user's brain subconsciously frames in a golden frame and places on a dust-free pedestal.

for instance, today.

a day your senpai dreaded to begin by leaving the comfort of his bed, knowing the person whose ascension to the metaphorical throne he has been invited to witness today, blood chilling and condensing into tears on his lashes as memories from long ago and not-so-long-ago hurtle into his brain.

only to morph, by evening, into the day the boy realises: love isn't just what made him switch his infinity off and pull you under him, a shield to protect you from the crumbling roof, forgetting everything except your safety and life; but love is also what made you push him and the emotions within yourself away.

forgetting everything - the boy knows from knowing you these many years - except your very evident aim of shielding him from the vicious schemes of those responsible for this damned jujutsu hierarchy.

no matter how easy and rewarding the other path would've been for you.

no matter how difficult and painful this current path must've been for you.

just 'cause you love him.

just 'cause you know, at the end of it all, he's going to be safe, away from the manipulating hands of the higher-ups - away from even the slimmest chance of experiencing a shred of the ordeals you suffered as a child, losing your free will and living as a mere puppet, subject to those old geezers' whims and fancies.

the two of you are not-too-near to the threshold of adulthood; still, through those unsure lenses of transition between immaturity and maturity, gojo feels sure this very moment that his eyes are viewing now - of watching his feelings being reciprocated not only in words (which, he knows, are true; your body language is as familiar to him as the back of his hand) but also in actions - so pure, so selfless, so utterly... loving-

the boy reckons his six eyes have never landed on a sight so ethereal and just so good, that it makes his heart want to burst right out of his chest.

drinking in the way you're regarding him, fingers fidgeting and teeth gnawing on your lower lip, gojo cracks a smile.

your restlessness abates a little.

"you became the clan leader just to make sure this story remains ours and only ours, didn't you?"

you take a moment before answering with a big nod.

"yeah," you say, "but that doesn't mean you need to be grateful to me or anything of the sort. you can give me any answer you want to give. you can also give me no answer, now or ever, if that's what you really want to do. just know that i love you, and that your answer can never really put a dent in it, no matter what it is."

"no matter what it is?" your senpai echoes your words back to you. a small nod is what you send in reply; yet it seems to be more than the quantity of oil required to set the cogs of gojo's brain whirring to life and mischief. eyes narrowing, he asks, "not even if my response is an 'i love you too, shortie', hm?"

the clock in the room ticks thrice.

two known voices mutter curses behind him.

five maids of yours scurry out the door, whispering excitedly.

you narrow your eyes back at him.

"i asked you to not feel pressured, didn't i? tell me what you want to say, 'toru," you say; his name in your mouth sounds sweeter than the sweetest mochi the boy's ever tasted, "and not those stuff you think i want to hear you say."

your statement draws an amused chortle from gojo. "did you really forget what i told you last that day, shortie? or did you not again not understand what i was telling you then?"

"what's there to not understand in that!?" your indignant reply arrives without missing a beat, "you said you've always seen me as way more than a childhood friend: true 'cause we're best friends. then- oh yeah," with a click of your fingers, you add, face steeped in contemplation, "you also said- oh."

"yep, oh," gojo nods his head in an exaggerated fashion, revelling in the way you're looking at him right now, eyes round as saucers and cheeks ruddy as the expensive wine being served now.

you still seem so beautiful to him.

it takes a pinch more than a while before you breathe out a breathless giggle. straightening in his seat, gojo feels his cheeks hurt a bit from the wide smile digging indents into them.

"you really lo-"

"ma'am, the guests for the evening party will be here very soon. you should get ready now," one of your maids interrupts you. the sorcerer feels his smile shrivel a little. you're barely back with him; yet you'll be stolen away from him-

"aw, is it so?" your entertained query cuts in through his thoughts. the boy looks up from his shoes his gaze had moved to before, to you, an awfully fake apologetic smile lighting up your face.

gods, why do you look so fucking kissable when you're like this?

"you know what, the people invited aren't really the kind i want to talk to and ruin my mood. besides, i've already met 'my' guests, so..." the boy watches you inch closer to him slowly as you trail off; your maid's eyes narrow before widening. you grin. "toodles, mrs. matsui!"

that and the salute you throw at everyone in the room are the last two memories clear in gojo's mind, before everything turns into a mush of everything yet nothing in the end.

well, barring a few exceptions, of course.

your contagious chortles, for instance, while you both dash down the hallways of your mansion; or your delighted gasp when he wraps his arms round you and warps to that patisserie in nikko; or your million-watt-bright beam to him, as you slap the latter's sneaky hands away from stealing a bite from your plate, whilst the latter declares this to be where you two will celebrate the future milestones; or the-

"ieiri senpai was right, y'know?" your tired voice cuts in through your senpai's rather-muddled recollections. the latter tears his gaze away from the inky-black night sky dotted by the twinkling lights of tokyo, to your drowsy form resting her head on his chest, his one arm tight around your shoulders, while the other rests behind his head on the cold hood of the car.

moving to brush the strands of hair away from your forehead, the boy presses a kiss to the tip of your nose, earning a sweet kiss to his chin in return, and hums, "not really the person i wanna chat about right now with my girlfriend..." you suddenly twist your body towards him, throwing an arm over his stomach and nuzzling into his neck; making a mental note to address you as that more often, he sighs. "but carry on, i guess. you won't be you if you can't gush about that damn shoko every third sentence or something."

planting your lips to his jaw for a mere second, gojo watches you pull away an inch from him, grinning. "senpai said you'll be the first one to confess but i'll be the one who makes things official and public and all that shit," you explain, then gasp, grin turning wider.

"oh my god," you mutter, "geto senpai and iori senpai are gonna lose so much money to her. them two never thought you could ever say 'i love you' to me, did you know that? oh my god... i kind of feel bad for those two."

the gleeful expression you're wearing tells your boyfriend otherwise - choosing to ignore it, he throws you a smirk. "well, i don't. those two people shouldn't have doubted me. i'm the one and only gojo satoru," he proclaims, puffing his chest out a bit, "of course, I'll be successful in my mission of getting you to notice my love for you."

"nah, i don't think so," you shake your head the very next instant. lips into the most adoring curve he's ever seen on you - something which steals his retort away from him and makes him want to pinch his arm hard, to see if he's dreaming or not - you hum.

"you could confess your love to me, not 'cause you're gojo satoru. but because you're my 'toru and i'm your shortie... isn't it so?"

gojo thinks back to the time utilised in carefully drafting and finalizing the steps via which he can catch your eye, only to watch them not go the way planned.

gojo looks back to you, only to find your eyes trained on him, glitters of love in them unbelievably similar to those loud crackers bursting in his chest right now.

the young sorcerer runs a reverent finger down the side of your face.

"yeah, it is because you're my shortie and i'm your 'toru, sweetness," he whispers, "and we'll always stay this way, yeah?"

you reply by engraving the shape of your smile into his.

▸ AND MY MAGNUM OPUS IS OVER! 🥳🥳

▸ I GENUINELY HAVE NO IDEA ON WHAT I SHOULD SAY RN BUT I THINK I WANNA SAY ONE HELL OF A BIG THANK YOU TO EACH AND EVERYONE WHO HAS BEEN WITH ME ON THIS JOURNEY SO FAR. 'TORU AND SHORTIE'S STORIES ARE LIKE, WAY FAR FROM BEING OVER, IG. BUT YEAH, THANK YOU SO SO SOO MUCH, PPL. I LOVE Y'ALL SO MUCH! 🥰🥰🥰

▸ series: we're the summer to our winter rain

▸ masterlist

#gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #satoru x reader #satoru x you #jjk x reader #jjk x you #gojo fluff #gojo angst #gojo fic #gojo satoru #jjk fluff #jjk angst #jjk fic #jjk fanfic #jjk #kit posts 📝

[nevadas-night-time-novelist]

Hank with nine feet tall!reader but reader is actually the new sun, and they have a smiley face like: =) but reader just chills around and eats hotdogs

Plot twist: hank accidentally created them when they killed the actual sun

Energy simply is. It cannot be destroyed. It cannot be created. It always is, and always will be. With the death of the Sun, her energy shot out into the sky, seeking out the most viable host in the area. It found a strong grunt, one with grit and will, a power to persevere even in the hardest of times.

A body capable of withstanding power, one of kind and sound mind, reasonable and in need of light. Pain struck your spine between your shoulder blades, splitting down your back and rushing into your bones. Heat followed, sunspots burning into your skin from the inside.

Light filled your eyes, bright beams extending to the sky, a calling to return to where it belongs, up above in the heavens, silent observer of the peaceful world below. The pain faded slowly, your new shifted form complete.

A crown of light floated around your head, warm toned silks enrobed your body, and intricate little sun patterns covered parts of your skin. Your slender fingers touched the silk, much softer than the cotton smock you'd been wearing mere moments ago, an- when did the ground get so far away?!

You caught your reflection in a window, a gasp escaping your lips. "W-what is this?" Warmth filled your being, emanating from your sternum, the heat rolling off you and warming the air around you. Bright, warm, tall. A freaky change, a far cry from the normalcy you'd lived until now. And yet....

You couldn't help but smile. Joy flooded your system, energy and love flooding from your being, the urge to twirl in your new robes was irritable, and you did, feeling the fabric moving with you.

Yet with all this energy burning from you, it left a deep void in your guts, an insatiable hunger taking over, mouth salivating at the mere thought of something tasty on your tongue.

A grunt with a hotdog cart was walking past, and you waved to him in excitement. "Helloooo~" You skipped over and beamed down at him. "May I have... Hmmm... Many hotdogs?" You couldn't pick a number, just intent on eating until you could feel full and ready to burn brighter.

He craned his neck to look at you. "You're a tall one, aren't you? Now how many hotdogs do you actually want? I need a number buddy."

You picked your wallet from your pocket, and you placed it down on the side. "As many as the money in there can buy!" He shrugged, and opened your wallet, taking your cash before starting to prepare your feast of pulverised meat. An important question left his lips.

"Mustard, or ketchup?"

After an intense brawl and interrogation, Hank had made progress on his journey to hunting down and executing the Sheriff. It'd be a cold day in hell before he forgave that bastard for eating his pie.

They paused when they noticed a familiar giant in the street, one he was absolutely positive he'd killed not an hour ago. "What. The. Fuck." You turned to look at him, half a hotdog in hand.

"Hiiiii! You want a hotdog too?" You held out the untouched one in your other hand, and Hank looked beyond livid.

"How the hell are you alive? I just killed you!" They patted their body, realising they were out of weapons. Fists would have to do, he's done it before, he can again.

"Huuuh? I don't know what you mean. I've never seen you before in my life. I think I'd remember. I'd definitely remember dying." You took another big bite, waving the hotdog at him. "Offers still open!"

He gritted his teeth, stomping over. "What are you playing at? What kind of game is this?"

"I don't follow. One moment I was walking along, the next I was bursting with joy and feeling so light! It's like I'm a whole different person! Well, I mean I guess I am. I didn't look like this earlier." You gnawed on your hotdog in thought.

"You're... not the sun that crawled down from the sky?" They questioned, incredibly cautious.

You shook your head with a smile. "Don't be silly! The sun is right th-" Where the fuck was the sun? "Uh.." Realisation started to dawn on you, perhaps.. it could be true? It would explain your sudden attitude shift, and physical shift, and the urge to just float into the sky.

"... Maybe I am the sun?" Your smile vanished for a moment, before it came back. "But isn't that wonderful? I can brighten up the world now. I think that's something powerful."

You sat on the curb, and Hank eventually sat with you. "At least you're not trying to kill me." They grumbled, a sour look on their face. "Feels like everything is against me right now, just 'cause one guy screwed me over." Their stomach growled. "....Is the offer for that hotdog still open?"

A giggle left your lips, and you handed them the ketchup slathered dog. "Eat up, I'm sure bright things will be coming your way. After all, when you hit low, the only way you can go is up, right?"

He swallowed his mouthful and sighed. "I sure hope so."

#hank #hank j wimbleton #hank x reader #madcom #madness combat #madcom x reader #madness combat x reader #hank j wimbleton x reader #x gon deliver to ya #hawt dawgs are the only food in nevada lol

[mlmxreader]

Battle Scars | Aragorn x gn!reader

『••✎••』

↳ ❝ Aragorn

1 "Don't let a good meal go to waste" ❞

: ̗̀➛ Aragorn takes a liking to a soldier.

: ̗̀➛ war, death, violence, swearing

↳ @arthurmorgansballsack

•───────────────★•♛•★──────────────•

A soldier's life was not one anyone would have ever wanted or liked to have had; tales of glory and honour were often caused by embellishment and the lies of those who ruled the land and the history books with an iron fist. The stories of what had happened on the front lines were often spun with lies and gold. They made shit seem like it glittered.

When you first joined the army, you were two years underage; you were told that you were fighting for a land fit for the victorious. You were told that religion was on your hand as you held your sword. You chased your days down to zero, you knew that you would never live a full life.

As much as you fought, bled, and nearly died you would never live a full life. You were fodder.

You knew that even a year would be longer than what most were given; when you first volunteered, you wrote down your name, and you added exactly two years to your age so that they would accept.

At the time, you had been eager for life; you were eager to see all of Middle Earth and to meet all of its peoples, you were eager to see great cities and brilliant forests and gorgeous mountains and bountiless seas.

You were eager for it all, and the promise of glory and honour and freedom was a brilliant promise that would never be kept; one year into the life, and you had seen too much already. You had been ahead at the time, so eager and so willing, that you never stopped to listen to those who had seen it all before.

You had been ahead, ready for your story of glory to be told; but there was none to be had. As much as you fought and you brawled, there was never any glory in it. You were just food and fodder.

But oh, that first year was nothing compared to the next; your friend, a young man from Gondor. He was the same age as you, a glorious head of black hair mixed with thick eyebrows and a wonderful smile; he seemed to be blessed by the sun, his almost black eyes seemingly glittering in the afternoons.

You heard him cry, and he sank to his knees; coughing blood as he screamed for his mother. You fell by his side, letting him die in your arms as you clung to each other like children; for hours, you laid in the mud, covered in guts and blood, weeping as his body grew colder. You called for his mother, but she never came - it wasn't your fault. You could never carry the burden of guilt for it.

The day had not even been half over when he became one of ten thousand who fell that day; nobody would remember his name. Nobody would remember his soldiering. Nobody would ever know him. You alone carried him.

You were never the same after that; as the years wore on, your guilt only grew. Having seen hundreds of friends die, you no longer wanted to be a soldier; you never wanted to be the only one who remembered their names, who remembered them.

But you stayed, slowly becoming like the very soldiers you didn't listen to - warning new recruits about it. About how war killed everything.

You met Aragorn after your tenth year in the wars.

He had been passing through as a ranger, and had stopped when he noticed the soldiers; he realised many of them came from Gondor and Rohan, but most of them were from just about everywhere he could think of.

The young ones seemed thirsty for battle, ready and waiting for it; but then he laid his eyes on you and the other grizzled and melancholic men in the corner.

Huddled over a fire with gazes that seemed to drift into the flames for thousands of miles, saying nothing and refusing to move; he tilted his head to the side, watching for a moment. None of you moved, but the soft puffs of light grey air that spouted from your noses was enough to see that you were all breathing.

You all looked miserable, and even worse, he could see that none of you had been eating; the younger ones had, but it was obvious even to Aragorn that those who had seen wars before were starving themselves to ensure the younger ones would survive the tough winters.

He swallowed thickly, watching for a moment for asking for you to speak with him; you met him in your tent, and although you weren't so keen on making friends anymore, you talked with him until the sun had risen. He promised that he would find you again, and he did.

At least once a week, a ranger would wander into the soldier's camp, and you would always spend hours speaking to him within your tent. Always until the sun had risen. It wasn't long before the others started to talk; you refused to call Aragorn a friend, knowing what happened to those who you allowed to get close.

You did not want to scream for another man's mother knowing she would not come; you did want to cling to another man as you held him like a child, weeping as the warmth left him. You could not do it again. You would not.

But Aragorn was determined, and would not relent; it didn't help that he insisted on bringing you whatever food he could find and spare. He always made sure that he left in the mornings and your stomach was full; food was a luxury, and he was all too aware that it was mostly you giving up your rations for the younger ones.

He knew that the rulers of kingdoms were often unfair and cruel; the lies of the devil and the devil's point of view. They made the world full of hate and anger, causing as much fear and pain as they could; but he could see it in you. You did not value pride, did not value glory. You could survive the storm, you could withstand the devil's lies.

You had taken enough pain that he was certain of it; sad were the memories of when you were not fighting in a war. A youth that had been doomed and squashed, an innocence that had been ripped and torn apart.

Aragorn heard the whispers of the dead just as you did; he heard them beg and implore you to forgive yourself, but you didn't. You had a price to pay, and not every ounce of gold had been repaid. For years, he visited, and tonight was no different.

He pushed the plate closer to you, pleading with his grey eyes as he frowned. "Please, don't let a good meal go to waste."

"I don't want it..." you muttered, shaking your head.

"But you look worse," he sighed. "You cannot starve, I will not allow it."

You rolled your eyes, shaking your head again. "Aragorn, leave me. My clock has struck its final hour."

"No," he told you. "Death is not your fate. This pain that follows you... allow me to shoulder some of it so that you may experience enough peace to eat."

"Aragorn-"

"The days are darker," he started, "and you are getting worse. You are going to make yourself sick if you keep starving. Please."

"Why do you care so much?" You asked.

"You're not just a soldier to me," Aragorn whispered. "You know that. Don't you?"

"Please stop," you whispered. "Please. I am a shadow of a man."

"You have seen too much war," he pointed out. "You haven't seen enough peace... come with me for a while. See the world."

You froze, eyes widening as you shook your head with vigour. "No. No, you cannot make me go."

"Easy," Aragorn said softly. "I don't mean like that. I only mean... why don't you accompany me? You may see peace, that way, and it may quieten your head for a moment."

As much as you didn't want to admit it, you did trust Aragorn; he might not have fought beside you, but he had been loyal, and he had proved himself a decent companion more than once.

You trusted him, and although you knew such a thing was likely as it was, you would happily trade your life for his. You would pay the price of two miles for him, if it ever came down to it. Swords and maces and axes and bows, you would face it all for him. Although you were hesitant when it came to fighting; you could not bear the thought of seeing another man die in front of you.

Screaming and howling for his mother like a dying dog, all civility and humanity ripped from his body as he cried and moaned. You could not bear the thought of hearing them die on the battlefield at night; they would take days to die amongst the mud, often eaten by rats bit by bit.

You would end your life before seeing that again.

But perhaps Aragorn had a point; maybe if you went with him, and you saw his life for just a day, it would make you feel a little better. It wouldn't cure the melancholy, and nor would it take away the memories - but it might have made you feel a bit better.

Maybe all you needed was to see sprawling trees and bountiless grasses, to hear the scream of foxes and the grunting of deer; maybe all you needed was to just be away from war, if only for a day or two. Youm nodded slowly, sighing heavily as you fought back the urge to cry loudly.

"Alright," you said, your voice shaking. "I will go with you in the morning... but you best rest, Aragorn. Take my bed."

"No," he said quietly. "No, I can sleep on the floor. You need a bed, I do not."

"Please," you said softly. "As a thank you."

"You can thank me better by joining me," he told you with a smile. "It is rather cold... maybe we can share the warmth?"

You nodded slowly, daring to smile a little. "Alright."

#mlem writes #aragorn x reader #aragorn x you #aragorn imagine #aragorn fanfiction #aragorn son of arathorn #aragorn lotr #aragorn #lotr x reader #lotr x you #lotr x y/n #lotr imagine #lotr fanfiction #lotr fanfic #lotr fic #lotr aragorn #lotr #lord of the rings x reader #lord of the rings x you #lord of the rings imagine #lord of the rings fanfiction #lord of the rings fic #lord of the rings

[questforgalas]

An Unexpected Enemy

This is literally a silly little dribble I wrote after this silly thought I posted wouldn't leave my mind. Just some early day fun with the Batch and brothers being brothers. Crosshair can't take corners. Someone give Hunter an aspirin. They haven't even left Kamino and he needs it already.

WC: 576

Characters: The Bad Batch pre Echo

Tags: Just brotherly fun, they swear

Tay's Masterlist

Read on AO3

“Alright lads, this isn’t any different than the simulator. We’ve done this a thou-“

“Oof!”

“We’ve done this a thousand times before. We’ll go in qui-“

Bang “Agh!”

“Go in quick and quiet. Wrecker, you’ll remain on the Marauder for back up. Shouldn’t be necessary with Crosshair’s eyes on us, but we’ll com-“

Scrape. Bang. “Agh! Fucking wall.”

“Crosshair!” Hunter whipped around to his silver-haired brother causing the other three batchers to halt their march to the hangar. “That thing doesn’t even stick out that far. Just, walk 2 inches more away from the wall!”

Earlier this morning, the sniper was as smug as a pirate on pay day when he was outfitted with his custom sniper perch protruding from his left pauldron.

“Nobody else in the galaxy has an attachment like this. The clankers might as well consider the war lost now,” he crowed, not even noticing his brothers receiving their custom armor before setting out on their first ever mission. This was before Crosshair met an enemy none of them ever anticipated – wall corners.

“I am! You try walking around with a rod poking out from you!” Crosshair shot back.

“Well, just walk on the outside of the group. Tech, go inside.”

“Negative. We tried that formation when leaving the fitting. I am certain my shoulder will be bruised from the amount of times Crosshair’s perch ran into me,” Tech, nose in his datapad, countered.

“Don’t be dramatic. Your shoulder is literally covered in armor,” Crosshair defended, toothpick stabbing at Tech. Pausing his perusing, Tech’s narrowed glare at the sniper was the only response he’d give.

“I got an idea! Why don’t I just carry him to the Marauder?” Wrecker chimed in, moving to take Crosshair under his arm. This earned him a swift punch in the shoulder from the sniper who backed away, poised to strike. As this usually went, Wrecker was only egged on by Crosshair thinking he could take him and advanced on their silver-haired brother as laughter filled the air around them.

Not wanting to be called to the prime minister’s office again this week, moments before their first mission, Hunter stepped in before a brawl broke out in the middle of the hallway.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa! Wrecker, stand down! We’ve gone over this – you can’t antagonize Crosshair for amusement.” Relief passed as he saw Wrecker back off, but not before giving one more fake-out jolt at Crosshair. The sniper was ready to lunge, but Hunter caught him by the waist. “And Crosshair, just because you have eyesight that apparently doesn’t account for depth perception doesn’t mean you have to bite our heads off.”

That earned him a sharp punch in the stomach, but when he felt Crosshair relax, he released him, grumbling and all.

“Alright then. Crosshair, when we come to the corners, just take them wide. You’ll get the hang of it soon. Now, let’s get a move on before we’re late for our first mission.”

The four batchers fell in line once again as Hunter continued where he left off in his strategy briefing. Many corners later, they were coming up to the hangar. Their ship, the Marauder, ready and waiting for them. The excitement was palpable in the air as they reached the gangplank. As they made their way up, Hunter went on with his final orders.

“Alright, Tech, get the ship fired up. We’re out of – “ Scuff, bang, bang. “Oh, for fuck’s sake Crosshair!”

#tay writes #star wars #the bad batch #wrecker #hunter #crosshair #tech #the bad batch hunter #the bad batch tech #the bad batch crosshair #the bad batch wrecker #divider by samspenandsword #cw: swearing

[moondrop04]

ROSEGARDEN VOLUME 10 PROMPT: SECRET TRAINING

Some context to provide some world-building and of what I think may happen in volume 10 before I write the following prompt:

During the time team RWBY and Jaune weren’t present, Oscar has made a name for himself in Vacuo for fighting off Grimm at a young age, with the skills he inherited from Ozpin. People refer to him as “The Prodigy”.

Taiyang Xiao long will be in Vacuo, and reunite with his daughters.

Headmaster Theodore wishes to provide advanced training to team RWBY and Jaune, to help them get stronger.

Tai being an overprotective father bluntly tells Theodore he does not want his daughters training for the war heading their way.

Ruby and Yang argue against their fathers wishes, to which family drama ensues with the three.

Tai grudgingly accepts Yang participating in the training, but refuses to back down from Ruby joining.

Tai makes everyone swear they would not show what they had learned from Theodore to Ruby including Ozpin, who at the time was in possession of Oscar’s body.

Ruby angrily storms off from her father and walks the streets of Vacuo, alone to her thoughts.

Alright that’s enough context, onto the prompt!!!

Ruby frustratingly walks through the streets of Vacuo, after her intense conversation with her father Taiyang.

Ruby: “UGH!! ~ I CAN’T BELIEVE HIM!!! THIS ISN’T THE TIME TO BE WORRYING ABOUT MY SAFETY!!!”

In her anger Ruby failed to notice a few thieves and outlaws tailing her, as she makes her way through an alleyway. Soon after she is ambushed by the bad men and demands her to give what money she has over to them.

Not in the mood to deal with her attackers Ruby proceeds to draw out her weapon, but is shocked to find crescent rose not on her.

Ruby: “Oh no! I must have left Crescent Rose back at the academy when I left!!”

Noticing her worried expression the outlaws launched themselves to Ruby, expecting to have an easy win. Ruby proceeds to dodge and maneuver herself from the attacks with her semblance for a brief while. Until they used their semblances to entrap Ruby from using her semblance and box her in against a stone wall.

Prepared for the worst Ruby readies herself for a brawl as her attackers launches themselves again at her, only to fail again as they are knocked back by a “Green Blur”. Oscar enters the scene as he stands in front of Ruby, protecting her from the outlaws.

The Thieves stand back up ready to fight, but as soon as they noticed who Oscar was they proceed to step back and run away, not wanting any further trouble.

Relieved of no further violence Oscar puts away “Long Memory” and walks over to Ruby, handing back to her Crescent Rose which he had on hand.

Oscar: “We may be “safe” in Vacuo, but that doesn’t mean it’s the same as the other kingdoms we’ve been to. So it’s probably not the best idea to leave, alone, without your weapon on you.”

Ruby dusts herself off and looks at Crescent Rose in Oscar’s hand, with an agitated but sad look on her face.

Ruby: ……”thanks”…..

Oscar noticing Ruby’s expression takes a second to think and asks Ruby a question.

Oscar: “There is a small shop down the road that sells great fruit beverages for the locals, will you walk with me to try them out?”

Ruby noticing Oscar’s ploy to have a talk with her answers back.

Ruby: “Uh….um…thanks….but I’m….not really in the mood for….”

Oscar: “They also give away freshly baked cookies as free samples….”

Ruby: “………”

Moments later the two find themselves alone, sitting on a rooftop, with two fruit beverages and a carton of cookies.

After a brief conversation with each other Oscar eventually asks Ruby of her feelings towards Taiyang forbidding her to train with the others, to which she angrily answers back.

Ruby: “I Just Don’t Understand What He Is Thinking!!! He knows Salem will eventually make her way here to Vacuo for the relic, and will probably bring a much larger force with her this time around.”

Ruby: “If she does then my silver eyes might be a great help against her, and if the headmaster is willing to give us super advanced training to make us even more stronger, then I NEED to take it!!”

Ruby: I don’t NEED him protecting me and keeping me away from the battle to come!!!

Oscar patiently listens to Ruby as she vents her frustration onto him and after a few moments speaks back to her.

Oscar: …..”He’s only acting this way towards you Ruby because he cares and loves for you..”

Tears begin to swell up in Ruby’s eyes.

Ruby: …..”I don’t NEED his love right now…..I just WANT his support…”

After a brief moment Oscar looks to the horizon of the city below them and takes a another moment to himself to think.

He stands up from where he is sitting and begins to talk back to Ruby.

Oscar: “Well…..the others can’t do anything about it now since Tai made everyone in that room swore to him, including Qrow and Ozpin.”

Ruby’s expression saddens even more as she lowers her head….

Oscar: “…….but….technically I made no such promises….”

Ruby’s eyes lit up as she raises her head back up to look at the boy next to her, as he looks right back at her.

Oscar: “I may or may not know about a local dojo that may be able to provide help for some certain…. discrepancies.”

Ruby looks and listens at Oscar very intently until slowly a big smile spreads across her face…

Oscar smiles back with a mischief grin and extends his hand toward Ruby to help her up.

Oscar: “So……want to do some super-secret training with me?”

As he does Ozpin internally replies back to Oscar.

Ozpin: “Taiyang is not going to be happy about this when he finds out.”

Oscar: “I know…..but I’ll deal with it when that eventually happens.”

Ruby extends her hand back towards Oscar’s until they eventually come together.

Oscar: “Now……I just want to simply help her out.”

So there’s my Volume 10 prompt for a RoseGarden Moment 🤗

What do you think RG Community? It’s passable?👀🧐



#rwby #rwby ruby rose #rwby oscar #oscar pine #rwby rosegarden #rosegarden #ruby x oscar #GREENLITVOLUME10

[the-fluff-piece]

A delicate dance of swords part 2

-> Part 1

-> Part 3

Like this one? Check out my other stories in this masterlist

After Zoro startled you with his unusual flirting technique, he is moping - and you leave him be. When he is almost ready to call the whole thing off before it began, he realizes that he is actually the one for you and makes a very (not) smart plan on how to win you - he will dive into the world of romance tropes!

You

Zoro was a little bitch, everyone knew that. When something bothered him he could be the bitchiest little shit in the world. You were currently assessing the extent of his moping up in the crow's nest from below. He has only been training or grunting single syllables since he took you by surprise with his flirting. Thinking about it, you wouldn't have said no, it just came seemingly out of nowhere and you were startled. He could have given you a heads up- but than again, he was Zoro, it was probably his most subtle attempt to just take your hand and make you caress his abs. You were pretty sure that he would normally just unpack his dick and ask "...want to?"

As the thoughts wandered through your brain, you decided to leave him be. He would come out when he was ready to talk about it. Deciding to use the slow day for some relaxation, you stretch out on deck with your new book - taken by the Bandit king. It was about a ruthless bandit leader in the mountains who has to escort a scholarly princess across dangerous paths to her planned wedding. Filled with lots of romance, misunderstandings and sex. Just what you needed right now. The bandit king, Bane, was just falling for the cute princess, a good part. Soon, you were totally lost in the story, not thinking about pirates or mad swordsmen in crow's nests at all.

Zoro

He swore he would talk to her as soon as he sobered up, but after his breakfast drink that would take a while. Every time he thought about what happened, his thoughts returned to the moments when her hands were on his body and he almost lost his mind. Would her hand have dipped any deeper, he would have completely surrendered all control, raveging her like an animal there and than.

But she didn't, she ran away. He lost.

He should eat. The cook must have some leftovers lying around. Zoro peaked out from his nest to assess the situation. She lay on deck, reading. He would just casually stride by, like nothing happened, get some food. And than apologise and tell her he would never bother her again.

Great plan. Climbing the ladder down, he was blinded by the bright sun and groaned. After his eyes adjusted to the blazing sun, he was unable to tear his gaze from her, he studied her face for clues about her mood. Y/n's eyes beamed as she read, her adorable face was showing delight, her cheeks were pink and she nibbled her lower lip so sweetly, he wanted to rush to her and have a go at her lips, too. Whatever she read, it excited her. Zoro's eyebrow rose as he saw the cover - it clearly depicted him - no, someone similar, posing topless with a giant sword. Interesting.

He read the title as he strode by and mumbled a "morning" to y/n and Robin, not really waiting for an answer. He noticed a similar book in her hands. Very interesting, indeed.

The thought that she enjoyed something like this got him thinking, he would have to look into that. But his aching head was making it hard to think, so he trotted on to the dining area.

He certainly felt better after a sandwich and a short brawl with the cook. With renewed motivation he set out. When he emerged into the sun again he noticed that Robin was alone. Perfect chance to ask here about these swordsman books.

"Oi, Robin, watcha reading?" He asked crouching down in front of her.

"Hello Zoro, it's just a novel, you see?" She showed him the cover - depicting a muscular man with flowing blonde locks, holding a buxom lady to his chest - "hungry highlander husband" it read.

Zoro tilted his head.

"What is y/n reading? Something like that?" He asked, nonchalantly. Robin chuckled. "Oh no, this is a highlander timetravel novel, Y/n is currently reading the "bad bandits" series. But I guess they are similar, although the themes are different. Do you want to read it?" She already reached for a book stack next to her when Zoro already snatched the book y/n was reading from her seat. It lay open on her towel, marking the pages she had just read.

"I like this one" he said matter of factly, careful to preserve the marked pages with his finger, and retreated to the crows nest. Robing waved at him and wished him fun.

Let's see what she was so excited about. He read the summary on the back about a bandit escorting a princess and had to grin at the promise of a hot romance. Now he got her. Caught her in the act - reading a book about dating a warrior with a sword. This was a manual to her love, and he would use it. He felt incredibly smart.

He started with the pages that she had read.

The princess' clothes had gotten wet and the bandit made her undress to dry the clothes by the fire and the book described in great detail that she didn't feel comfortable undressing in front of him, she felt too flat-chested, too pale, too frail and at the same time too round, not hot enough in general. The book made it very clear that the man was absolutely into the woman - and she was absolutely attracted to the man as well. Horny, vivid descriptions of rock hard muscles, calloused touches and steel stiff penises pushing against fabric filled paragraphs.

Zoro let his hand glide over his own body, he felt the bulge of his abs, the raised lines of his scars - his own rough hand, calloused from wielding his swords all day since childhood. A confident smile spread over his face. He was that man, he was sure. She was into that. New hope blossomed inside of him - that he would soon be inside her. The girl in the novel didn't react willingly, though, kind of like y/n, full of anxiety, running away or reacting harshly and distrustful. All because she had doubts, responsibilities and felt ashamed. Maybe y/n thought like that, too? Even if it made no sense. Their love would not be forbidden, they could pretty much do what they wanted with each other, he just had to explain that to her. He had the upper hand now. This book was his guide!

He skimmed through the pages, scanning for words that indicated intimacy and read a few paragraphs. He didn't expect such a strange story - with such an alarming absence of swordfighting.

He read a few pages where the protagonists stopped at an inn and had to share a room with only one bed in it. Both seemed unnerved about it, but secretly wanted and enjoyed it. He got hard and she got wet, there was some rubbing against each other but for some reason, they would never admit it. So stupid! They just neede to talk to each other, it was the clear solution.

This is where he was superior, he would simply communicate his feelings directly and he'd be fucking her brains out in no time. Such a genius move! He also noticed that the woman in the book was constantly feeling not hot enough for the guy, or interpreted all of his remarks and actions in the worst possible way. Zoro would also take that into account. He would simply speak his mind and tell her that he wanted her. Badly. The way she fought, the way she looked at him, how extremely comfortable he felt when she was around. They would be an unbeatable team. Zoro would never have to feel alone ever again.

He flew over the pages until the end - finally, some hardcore action! Reading the sex scene, Zorro already envisioned doing all those dirty things to her. He would taste her pussy, moaning against her flesh. Would flip her around and enter her from behind, hard and deep. He had the stamina to make her scream all night. Already feeling his cock stiffening, he set out to make that fantasy a reality.

With renewed motivation, he got rid of every bit of clothing except his pants. There was no mirror to check his appearance, but he was sure he looked hot as hell, ready to be put on the cover of a book.

You

When you came back with your sunscreen your book was gone.

"Robin, did you take my novel?" You asked your friend.

"Oh, is it gone? I hadn't noticed" she said with a strange smile. What was she up to? She had her own books to read, a whole stack of them! And there was an unclothing scene going on, damn!

Good thing you already bought the whole 24 book series, you could just read another until it showed up again. They where stacked next to your seat and you took wanted by the warrior out of the pile. It was about a different couple finding each other but could be read on its own.

You settled down, getting into the vibe of the new couple and getting invested in the story. The male lead was much more aggressive and mean than Bane had been, but that was also hot. The heroine would surely tame him.

You were just reading about how Mortimer, the fearsome warrior of the king, saved his beloved from a horde of ghouls when someone's shadow appeared on the page you were reading. You looked up and Zoro was in front you- he was wearing a pair of short cargo pants and nothing else - beside his most handsome lopsided grin. With his tan skin, his steel muscles and confident demeanor, you could almost mistake Zoro for the hero in your book. Your heart skipped a beat as you remembered how his body had felt. Your face heated up and it was hard to look into his piercing blue eyes.

"Uhm, hi Zoro. What's up?" You asked, noticing an ear sprouting from your parasol above your head as Robin hurried away.

"Y/n, I am sorry I startled you the other day." Zoro said apologetically. "I realize now that I didn't talk to you enough" he explained.

"Apology accepted" you answered. You felt the pressure resolve, so it had been a misunderstanding and he was rational enough to talk.

"So now I want to tell you clearly how I feel" he said sitting down on the edge of your seat, leaning nearer. You swallow, what now?

"You know, I don't care if your boobs are small or if your complexion isn't perfect or even if you have a tummy, I still want to fuck you!" He exclaimed with a content expression and a wide grin.

"So we can just go to the dojo now and-"

He didn't need to finish that sentence, so you used your fist to finish it for him. Your hit landed square in his face with the force of pure fury, sending him flying.

"WHAT THE FUCK MAN!" You screamed just as Robin and Sanji came running around the corner. As soon as the cook saw what happened he applauded and praised your strength, Robin said "oh my!"

"Oi what was that for? I just told you that I want you?" Zoro's mad voice boomed from the other side of the ship.

"Are you sure that's what you said you brute?!" You screamed at him in the distance. Now, everyone was on deck to see what was going on, Chopper was pressing against Sanji's legs in fear, Luffy seemed completely puzzled and Brook made some kind of dumb joke about being a skeleton that didn't quite land. You were not planning on giving then more to stare at, so you retreated to the girl's bedroom to process that the man just basically insulted your looks. And he expected that you would be grateful for a pity fuck? He got hit in the head little too often. Or too little.

Zoro

Things were going really great until she hit him completely out of the blue. She got him while is guard was down and he felt his jaw dislocate as he flew across the ship. Her strength was definetely growing. But he didn't have any idea where he went wrong with his confession. He tried to appease her insecurities and he told her that he wanted her - where was the mistake?

As Chopper tended to his newest injury, he pondered how he would go about this. He was sure her reaction was something the girl in the book would do, if the protagonist wasn't so squeamish and weak. He adjusted his expectations, so he wouldn't win her with a simple confession. Maybe he would have to go about it like the guy in the book, he go the girl in the end, right?

He took the book out of his haramaki and began reading again, this time a new part without sexual tension. The protagonists stop at a small town and share a moment watching the sunset together, telling each other about their past. Easy enough, Zoro had great eyesight, he could watch a sunset. He was also excellently informed about his own past. Now he just needed a town.

"Oi, Nami!" He approached the navigator. "When do we get to the next island?"

"Day after tomorrow" she answered without looking at him. "Why?"

Why indeed? What is Zoro's plan? Will it work? What kind of island will it be?

Stay tuned!

Leave a comment, write me a message or reblog with creative tags, it makes me want to keep writing ❤

Author's note: Yes, I think the idea that Zoro reads typical romance novels HILARIOUS and yes, I think I am a genius to see how he tries to break the rules and get the happy ending.

Any wishes for tropes he should try until he gets what he wants?

#one piece fanfiction #one piece x you #op zoro #roronoa zoro #zoro roronoa #zoro #zoro x reader #one piece zoro #zoro fluff #zoro fanfiction #zoro roronoa x reader #zoro roronoa x you #x you

[south-of-heaven]

can i request sheamus x fem!mcmahon!reader where reader is the youngest mcmahon and sheamus thinks shes way too good for him but she has a huge crush on him and thinks his accent is the cutest?

The McMahon lass || Sheamus x Reader

Summary: You and Sheamus have a talk backstage.

A/N: This actually came out so cute why am I kinda surprised. Sheamus is a humble king.

Walking through the vibrant backstage area of WWE, the energy of the arena buzzes around you. Being the youngest daughter of Vince McMahon, you're no stranger to this world of spectacle and athleticism. You exchange greetings with familiar faces and colleagues, your heart racing with excitement as you gear up for another thrilling event.

As you make your way down the bustling corridor, you notice Sheamus engaged in a conversation with a few fellow superstars. His fiery red hair and confident demeanor catch your eye immediately. He exudes a raw charisma that's both intriguing and magnetic. You've watched his matches and admired his presence in the ring, but you've never had a chance to really interact with him on a personal level.

Trying not to be too obvious, you sneak a glance in his direction, and your eyes meet for a brief moment. He flashes a friendly smile in your direction, and your heart skips a beat. You offer a shy smile in return before turning your attention back to the path ahead.

Just as you're about to continue on your way, you hear Sheamus's distinct Irish accent ring out. "Oi, lads! Have any of ye seen the McMahon lass walkin' around?"

Curiosity piqued, you stop in your tracks and turn toward him. "Oh, I'm right here."

Sheamus grins, a mixture of surprise and amusement evident in his eyes. "Well, speak of the devil! How's it goin', lass?"

You chuckle, feeling a wave of warmth spread through you at his attention. "It's going great, thanks. Ready for another night of action?"

He nods, his smile genuine and inviting. "Always ready for a bit of a brawl, aren't we?"

As the conversation flows, you find yourself drawn to Sheamus's easy charm and his ability to put you at ease. There's a genuine quality about him that shines through, and you're captivated by the sincerity in his words.

"Y'know," he begins, a thoughtful look crossing his face. "I've always thought you McMahons are like wrestling royalty. And me? I'm just a lad from Ireland who loves a good fight."

You lean against a nearby wall, a smile tugging at your lips. "Don't sell yourself short, Sheamus. Your passion and dedication are pretty darn admirable."

He scratches his chin, a sheepish grin on his face. "Ah, come on now. You're way outta my league, lass."

Your heart skips a beat at his words, and you find yourself blushing slightly. "Well, you know what they say about appearances, right?"

He arches an eyebrow, his blue eyes twinkling with curiosity. "What do they say?"

You muster up the courage to meet his gaze head-on. "They can be deceiving. And sometimes, it's what's beneath the surface that really matters."

Sheamus's expression softens, and he smiles at you in a way that makes your heart race. "Y'know, I've always liked your way with words."

Just as the conversation takes a comfortable pause, the sounds of the upcoming matches fill the corridor. It's a clear signal that it's time to gear up for the show. You share a knowing smile, a newfound connection forming between you.

As you part ways to prepare for your respective matches, your thoughts are filled with Sheamus's charming smile and that unmistakable Irish accent. Maybe he thinks you're out of his league, but little does he know that you've been harboring a secret crush on him. And who knows what the future holds? Perhaps your paths will cross again in a way that changes everything.

#wwe fanfiction #wwe x reader #pro wrestling #wrestling #wwe #sheamus #sheamus x reader #sheamus wwe #the brawling brutes #the celtic warrior

[oohnotvery]

Throwing Good After Bad (Chapter 17)

Scully

The deck of the yacht is pitching violently in the storm and only Scully’s childhood training from her naval captain father is keeping her standing. Her injured ankle screams at her but she ignores it, shoving aside thoughts of physical discomfort; she will deal with that later. The boat rears and bucks and she braces herself, clawing with bound hands at Mulder’s shoulder, but he goes down, his shins slapping the planking.

Unsteadily, she hauls him to his feet and they brace against each other and the railing as the boat moves. Ahead of them, Evan stands easily, one hand clamped to a rail and the other hand pointing the gun.

Deep in her gut, Scully knows Mulder is going to do something crazy. She can feel it in his energy, in the way his eyes scan the boat wildly, in the way his body presses her protectively behind him. But he’s weaker than normal, spent from all that throwing up on the boat ride over, and he never has been any good on the ocean.  

“Mulder,” she warns over the roar of the storm, “stay with me.”

He nods like he’s heard her, but she doesn’t quite believe him, so she grabs onto the belt buckle of his jeans, the best she can do with her hands bound as they are.

Evan takes a few steps closer and Mulder’s hands try to reach around to shake her off.

“Let go of me, Scully,” he warns.

“What are you doing, Mulder?” she asks, gripping him tighter. Just three feet away, Evan has the gun aimed directly at Mulder’s chest.

“Down the stairs, into the cabin,” Evan directs, jerking his head towards a set of stairs leading below deck.

But Mulder crouches and lunges, slamming into Evan’s knees, knocking him off balance and sending his gun flying into the air. Dragged forward by her hold on his jeans, Scully collapses to the deck with a painful crack to her knees. Mulder raises both hands to smack Evan across the face but Evan is quick to block the punch, ducking and rolling before kicking Mulder in the chest.

But Scully isn’t focused on their fight. As the boat lurches to the side, she sees Evan’s gun start a slow slide down the deck. She dives for the weapon, clambering over Mulder and Evan’s brawling bodies. Her fingertips brush the butt of the weapon and she surges forward, kicking someone in the face as she does. Out of the corner of her eye, she notices a lifeboat that appears to have been lifted and strung up, as if it’s ready to go at any moment. She stores that information away for later. As the boat yaws to the other side, the gun slips from her fingers and rattles away from her.

“Sculla-a-y!” Mulder yells and she glances behind her to see a large wave crash over the edge of the boat, sending streams of seawater running onto the deck. Still on hands and knees, she scrambles to grab anything she can hold—a rope—as water sloshes brutally around her.

The deck is so slick from the storm that she slips and falls trying to get her feet out from under her. With her hands bound, she can barely push up to kneeling again, and by the time she is on her feet, she sees that Evan has Mulder in a chokehold.

“Let him go!” she screams, running unsteadily towards the pair. Without his hands free, Mulder has lost this fight.

She’s grabbing desperately for Evan’s shoulders but the man is quicker than she; he slams Mulder’s head into the wooden deck before shoving her partner towards the stairs. She screams as Mulder tumbles down into the main cabin.

For a split second, she lunges towards Mulder, who she can hear moaning below. But then she spots it, shiny and slick with rain and seawater—Evan’s gun.

She’s only got one chance.

Ignoring the pitch and roll of the deck, she runs towards the gun, grabbing handholds where she can and dragging herself forward. She’s stretching out with both hands when she feels it—strong hands grabbing her shoulders and yanking her backwards. She screams in frustration as Evan pitches her down the hatch with Mulder. Her head slams against the wall as she tumbles down and she lands with a grunt on top of her partner.

Inside the well-lit main cabin, it takes her a few seconds to get her bearings—the rolling motion of the ship doesn’t help—before she’s crawling off of Mulder with an anguished apology. She helps turn him onto his back before feeling around his forehead and skull for wounds. Finding none, but noticing that Mulder’s expression is dazed and his complexion pale, she helps him scramble to standing. She has just enough time to take a breath before Mulder starts shoving her towards the back of the cabin, his hands gripping deathly tight to her shoulders.

“Don’t argue with me, Scully,” he warns darkly, sweat and rainwater rolling down his neck and into the collar of his shirt. And with one final shove, he’s pushing her into an open door and slamming it shut, locking her into some sort of dark, cramped closet.

Scully wails in anger and pounds at the door, banging and screaming for him to open it back up, to let her inside the cabin. She has no doubt that Evan has recovered his gun and will be just furious enough to use it if Mulder does anything else reckless.

“Mulder, let me out!” she shouts, slapping her palm against the door. She jiggles the handle and finds it won’t budge.

There’s a scuffling noise on the other side of the door and she starts banging her fist again. She needs to get to Mulder.

“Mulder, I swear to God—”

A gunshot goes off. Someone screams in agony. She freezes, her hand poised to knock again.

She knows that scream.

All the blood rushes from her face as the door wiggles and swings open, revealing Evan, sweaty, flustered, soaking wet, and holding the pistol in his right hand.

Scully shoves past him in terror and finds Mulder collapsed to the floor, his eyes closed, his mouth hanging open in agony. She dives to her knees and starts scanning him for the wound, checking first his head and then his chest. Finally, she sees blood bloom across the top of his shoulder—a non-critical location— and she breathes out a low, relieved sigh.

Behind them, she distantly hears Evan dragging something around the cabin, but she ignores it in favor of Mulder.

It’s awkward tearing at his shirt with both hands bound, but she manages to pull back the collar enough to study the wound closely. She presses down hard on the area and Mulder’s eyes wince open in pain.

“I’m so sorry,” he exhales raggedly, and she shushes him, shaking her head.

“It’s just a graze,” she says honestly, but he looks like he’s in more pain than he should be. “Mulder?” she asks nervously when his face starts to grow paler. “Mulder?” She tears anxiously at his shirt, searching for a hidden wound, something she hadn’t caught on her first examination. She’s about to beg him for an answer when he sits up and pushes her away so hard that she falls to the side.

And then he turns over and starts to vomit.

“Oh,” she murmurs, army crawling across the floor to touch his back soothingly.

He coughs violently and turns his head slightly to look at her.

“I’m not done,” he rasps, and she’s about to tell him that the sick feeling will pass, but he cuts her off with a low voice. “I’m not done with him. You’re getting off this boat alive, Scully.”

“Mulder—”

Behind them, Evan’s voice calls out. “If you’re done throwing up the contents of your last meal, would you two like a moment to say goodbye?”

Scully glances back at him and sees what he’s created: a set of heavy gray cinderblocks, to which he has attached two thick ropes of metal chains. It’s so simple that it surprises her.  She swallows, lifting her eyes to Evan’s. She recalls the lifeboat, ready to go, ready to plunge into the sea at any moment. She suddenly knows his plan.  

“You’re going to drown us,” she whispers. “You’re going to chain us to those blocks and sink this ship while you get out scot-free on that lifeboat.”

Evan swallows hard but doesn’t respond. His fingers twitch nervously. At her side, Mulder retches again and instinctively, she reaches out to pet his hair.  

Evan gestures towards Mulder. “Say your goodbyes.” His voice is clipped, strained. Scully studies the cinderblocks again, imagines dying slowly underneath the slip of the sea. She doesn’t want to die. She doesn’t want Mulder to die.

Her eyes fill with tears and she meets Evan’s gaze, watches the way he avoids looking at the cinderblocks. There is something human there, right beneath the surface.

“I know they were yours,” she whispers.

Evan’s entire body freezes.

She twists her body to face him more fully. “I know they were your children,” she tells him. “The two who drowned. You were their father. You’re not some tourist guide down from Vancouver; what’s more likely is you’re next-in-line for leader of the Black Sands.” Her heart beats rapidly. At her side, Mulder starts to push himself to sitting. “Isn’t that right? Isn’t that right, Evan?”  

He studies her for a long, hard moment, the only movement in the room the unnerving swaying of the boat around them.

His eyes flicker towards the darkened windows. “They died right on that beach,” he says quietly, tears glistening in his eyes. “Right in front of me. Before I even knew what was happening, they stopped breathing.”

“And you think that killing me and Scully is going to make it better?” Mulder interjects, his voice raw and hoarse. “That it’s going to end your grief?”

Evan shakes his head sadly. “That’s what you outsiders can’t possibly understand. This life requires sacrifice. The people I loved most in this world were taken from me. Violently. Horrifically. It was a clear, direct message straight from Heaven, that what we were doing was wrong. That the sacrifices we were making were wrong.” His voice hitches. “For years, we’ve been murdering our own people, thinking this was what we were called to do.”

“And you think murdering outsiders is any better?” Scully asks in disbelief. “Do you not see the mental gymnastics you have to perform to make that leap?”

Evan shakes his head. “I actually like you both. I genuinely do. I don’t want to see either of you die, especially not in the way we have planned.”

Her stomach tumbles and briefly, she thinks she might also throw up.

“But this is what is required.” Evan pauses for a beat. “I got a radio message about your bathing ceremony. I heard it was especially moving for many.”

“That was private,” Mulder snarls.

Evan raises his hands defensively. “Not the bath itself, you’re right. That was just between the two of you, as you requested. But the revelation of your relationship; of the love you have for each other; of the way you, Mulder, intended to sacrifice yourself for her.” He pauses, then laughs. “I will say, we never could’ve dreamed of a better gift than the two of you. The love you share, the bond you have. Nothing is more sacred—and thus more costly—to us in the Black Sands than the bond of love.”

“Are you kidding me?” Scully asks. “You sacrifice people unwillingly, in apparently quite violent ways—”

“Never,” Evan interrupts with a growl. His head shakes back and forth vehemently. “All of our sacrifices have been willing participants. And they all die in the same, relatively peaceful way—blood loss from a cut to a major artery.”

Scully gapes. “And yet you’re planning on tying us to a sinking ship, so we can slowly drown?”

Evan’s eyebrows crease. “I never said that was how you were going to die.” His eyes flicker over the cinderblocks and back to them. “You will die, and it will be bolder and brighter than how the others have died, that is true. But we must demand Heaven’s attention. The sacrifice of your bond of love will save our community. It will restore us to equilibrium. Because the love I have as a father—the love I have for my children—must be atoned.”     

“You’re right,” Mulder speaks up. “Nothing is more sacred than love.” Scully glances back at him, suddenly nervous again. Her partner is a ticking time bomb. He meets her eyes briefly before shifting onto his knees, a supplicant’s position. “Nothing could be more sacred, more special than a man choosing to sacrifice his life for the woman he loves.” His eyebrows crease plaintively. “Please spare her. Take me and only me. You said the past sacrifices went willingly. I will go willingly. I have more than enough love for her to make Heaven happy. Nowhere on this goddamned planet is there a love bigger than what you’ll find here in my heart for this woman.” Scully’s hands start to tremble. “Please. Let her live.”

Evan’s expression falters. The air around them seems to go still; even the boat seems to rock more gently as Evan—and Heaven—appear to consider Mulder’s request. Scully holds her breath. If Evan does let her go, she still has a chance to save Mulder.

And then Evan shakes his head. “Say your goodbyes.”

Mulder slams his hands into the floor, swearing violently. Scully turns to him and sees the hopelessness, terror, guilt, and anger there—that was his last chance. She swallows past the lump building in her throat. She will not let their last minutes be spent in agony. She raises her bound hands to his face and strokes her fingertips along his jaw. He opens his mouth to speak but neither of them has words. In disbelief and despair, he shakes his head. And she leans forward and kisses him, opening her mouth to his even as he mumbles an apology about getting sick earlier.

But she doesn’t care about that. She kisses him until her eyes start to brim with tears, and then she moves her lips to his forehead, then his cheeks.

“Was that a goodbye kiss?” he asks weakly, his complexion pale and lifeless.

Biting her lip to keep from sobbing, she shakes her head. “I promised you that this is not the last time we’re together. In this life, or in any other life. My soul will always find your soul, Mulder.” She believes it. She has to believe it.

“Oh, Scully,” he whispers weakly, tipping his head to her shoulder.

Evan gently extracts them from each other and Scully lets the tears run freely down her cheeks as he secures metal bindings around her handcuffs, attaching her to the cinderblocks. Evan attempts to move Mulder next, but her partner makes one final attempt at a getaway; Evan pistol whips him across the back of the head, looking slightly regretful at the violence. Mulder drops to his seat at Scully’s side.

She leans into him, tears and snot soaking his shirt, and presses a kiss to his shoulder, which is still bleeding. She tastes copper on her tongue.

“Together,” she tells him, and means it.

He meets her eyes hopelessly, looking sad and lost. “It wasn’t meant to end like this. You were supposed to live.”

“Not without you.”  

Evan comes to stand over them and Scully presses herself into Mulder’s side. She wonders what will happen next; how painful it will be; how much they will suffer; who will succumb first.

He looks between them for a long moment, seeming to consider something. Mulder presses a kiss to her cheek, and a whispered I love you ghosts across her skin.

Unable to form words anymore, she tips her forehead to his shoulder. And then Evan disappears. When he returns a moment later, he has a Zippo lighter in his hand, which she notices is shaking.  

Her brain starts to blur as she makes the realization. At her side, Mulder’s body tenses up, a terrible phobia-driven fear rising and cresting through his muscles.

And that’s when she notices the cannisters. Dozens of them. Up on the deck; down here in the cabin too. She suddenly remembers the rowboat’s trips out to sea over the past few days. How did she not realize? How did she not make the connection?

Evan pours out thick cans of gasoline all over the cabin floor. She assumes he will do the same thing above board before dropping the lifeboat into the ocean and paddling away. If that fails, he can always catch a ride with Jules and Harlan, who are supposedly still waiting for him.

The stench of gasoline fills her lungs. Beside her, Mulder quakes.

Evan stares at them one last time, the lighter in his hand. It flickers, a flame dancing before his eyes. And then he drops it to the floor.

The cabin springs up in flames.

So, this is how they’re going to die, Scully realizes as smoke starts to fill the cabin. Not by water, but by fire. She can’t decide which is worse.

Evan sends them one last regretful look, then disappears through the cabin door.

#x files #mulder x scully #the x files #msr #msr fanfic #txf #dana scully #x files fanfic #fox mulder #xfiles fanfic

[e-munson666]

Miss girl after reading that very spicy and angsty Steddie Fic, I think we should get a part 2 so we know what happens after Steve returns👀

If you insist. HERE IT IS.

++Steddie x Girlfriend!Reader++

Warnings ⚠️: 18+, language, mature content, unplanned pregnancy, MORE ANGST! fighting. Abuse, Stalking, Steve is MEAN. Eddie is very protective of reader. Everyone is 21.

Taglist: @eddiemunsons-missingnipple @kylaasposts @joekeeryworld @aggressiverocknoises @need-a-life-or-grass

Part 1

🖤Lady Hellfire🖤

Steve came back from his "walk several hours later, drunk, and still fuming. He sees you and Eddie sitting on the couch, Eddies arms wrapped around you. "Get the fuck up" Steve demands, grabbing your arm.

"Dont tou.." Eddie began before Steve cut him off "SHUT UP MUNSON." His grip around your wrist tightened as he pulled you to your feet.

"Heres what's gonna happen" he said, face inches away from yours, "your either going to get rid of it, or you both can get the fuck out of here."

"Shes not getting rid of MY baby Steve" Eddie scoffed, reaching his arm in-between you and Steve.

"Shes MY girlfriend Munson, and if she wants to stay here and be with me, she's fucking getting rid of it." Steve spits, grabbing Eddies collar. The boys stared at each other in a heated, silent glare, chests heaving, fists clenching.

"Im not getting rid of it Steve" you mutter, looking over at Eddie.

"Then get the fuck out. Both of you. NOW" Steve yells, shoving you towards the door. The last time you saw Steve was when Eddie was pounding his fist into Steve's face for touching you. "Go, wait in my van, I'll be right there" he commanded through gritted teeth before shutting the apartment door, ready to full on brawl with Steve.

*

That was two months ago. Now you and Eddie live in a tiny little trailer, close to his uncle Wayne. Eddie picked up more shifts at the hideout, and you got a part time job at the Library in town. You and Eddie were happy, incredibly in love, and so excited for your baby. There was just one problem, Steve Harrington was stalking you.

It started 2 weeks ago, when Steve caught a glimpse of your tiny bump as he was waiting for Henderson to come out of the Library. He knew he'd royally fucked up the moment he regained consciousness after Eddie had beat his ass. He wanted you back with him, no matter who's baby that was, he NEEDED you back with him.

It was innocent at first, he would come by the library every day, sitting out in his car waiting to catch a small glimpse of you as you walked to your car. But it escalated quickly from there, he would follow you home, and spend hours watching you and Eddie through the windows of your trailer. He watched as Eddie catered to you, watched him spoil you, watched him take Steve's rightful place as the man in your life.

Neither you or Eddie had noticed Steve following you around, that is until today, when Eddie came to pick you up from work. He'd only driven you because you felt dizzy that morning.......when he pulled his van up to the parking lot he saw Steve's BMW. He didn't think much of it at first, its a public library after all, and Steve and Henderson still hangout quite a bit. It wasn't until he noticed Steve still in the drivers seat that he started to get concerned. Eddie became angry when he saw you walk out of the library and towards his van, and he saw Steve's eyes on your every move.

Eddie was almost on fire when you finally entered the van. "Eds......what's wrong?" You ask, immediately noticing how angry he was. "Eddie?"

"Nothing sweetheart" he lied, carefully pulling out of the lot and heading home. It wasn't long until he caught a glimpse of the BMW trailing behind them. That solidified it for Eddie, causing him to become enraged.

"Princess" he said, in a too calm tone, "dont be scared okay, but Steve is following us."

"What?!" You choke, turning in your seat to see that Eddie was right.

"He was watching you, as you walked out of the library. He watched you walk all the way to my van, and now the fucker is following us" Eddie grips the steering wheel so hard his knuckles turn white. How dare Steve bother the two of you after everything he fucking did. He had a lot of audacity to even fucking look at you at all.

He made a split second decision, holding his arm out in front of you as he stomped on the breaks. The van came to a screeching hault, and Eddie could hear Steve's tires do the same.

"Eddie" you nearly whisper, seeing the anger in his face, knowing what he was about to do.

"Stay here baby, PLEASE." He begs, kissing your cheek before unbuckling his seatbelt. Before you could argue with him he was hopping out of the van, stomping towards Steve, who was already leaning against the hood of his own vehicle.

You were too scared to move, so you just watched in horror at what was unfolding.

"Why the fuck are you following us Harrington" Eddie yells as he approaches Steve, hands gripping his collar as he speaks.

Steve just flashes a coy smile at Eddie before responding, "Im here to take my girl home." Returning Eddies grip around his jacket.

Eddie is taken aback by what Steve had just said to him, "what the fuck are you talking about Harrington, that's not YOUR girl anymore remember, she's mine now, she's all fucking mine, you piece of shit" Eddie seethes, shaking Steve as he just laughed in Eddies face.

As you watched from the van you witnessed the most horrible thing happen. Steve swept Eddies leg out from under him, slamming him onto the pavement, knocking him out. You saw the dark look on Steve's face as he turned to the van.

Before thinking you tried to scramble out of the passenger seat, attempting to run into the forest you were parked near. You didn't make it far before Steve had a tight, rough hold around your neck. "Dont fucking fight me babydoll" he said coldly.

You thrashed around for a moment, trying to escape his grip, but he tightens his arm around you, cutting off your air. You gasped for air and stumbled on your feet as Steve led you back to his BMW, shoving you inside. He turned to where Eddie was laying on the pavement, a tiny trickle of blood running down the road where Eddies skull hit the concrete. Steve spit on the ground next to Eddie before climbing into the drivers seat of his car.

You were shaking and crying frantically. "Steve" you whimpered, his tires screeched as he turned the car around, speeding away. He didn't respond to you, he just kept driving, flashing you a crazed look every now and then.

*

*

*

*

A/N: this went off the rails HARD!!! But I fucking love it. Part 3?!

[thechipsaredown]

Semi-plotted starter for @aamusedly

Goodneighbor, what a perfect little shithole Six had found herself camping out in. The only way it could have gotten any better was if it was south of New Vegas rather than north of it. Although Six supposed the placement made perfect sense considering all the shit peoples mouths were running around these parts. Had Six been more temperamental, more unsteady she would've been liable to have gotten into a brawl by now.

For now she kept to herself as she remained outside, strategically positioned in the shade as she brought her canteen to her lips to savor the last few sips of her clean drinking water. The violent quiver in her left hand explained the several wet spots that decorated the front of her armor.

Normally she was sharper, more aware but today was a particularly difficult one. Even the light was agonizing, she felt as if mini nukes were blowing behind her eyes and she would give just about anything for it to stop. Instead of relief she found herself face to face with a ghoul as she lowered her canteen.

Six startled, her fingers tightening around her canteen as if she were going to use it as a makeshift weapon before she forced herself to relax just a smidge. Yet her muscles remained ever taunt, ready to strike at a moment's notice as she eyed him with bloodshot eyes. Not once did it occur to her that someone would look at her and see a possible troublemaker. A wanderer covered in blood with purple circles around their eyes often brought the promise of ill intentions and she fit that description to a tee, "what?"

#aamusedly #; six post #; fallout: new vegas verse