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a-edgar-allan-hoe · 1 year

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Wild Horses

Simon “Ghost” Riley x Female Doctor!Reader, Soap x Reader Part 2

Part 1 , Part 3 , Part 4

A/N: Y’all have asked and y’all have received. Enjoy! Let me know what you guys think, I always love to hear your thoughts! Reblogs are much appreciated! 😊💜

Summary: Imagine being the new physician assigned to the team and a certain masked individual takes a new keen concealed interest in you. The two of you are too awkward to function.

Warnings: language, fluff, angst. This one might be a little sad and Ghost is a bit of an ass-jerk so be prepared.

As mentioned before, Ghost completely stays clear of your vicinity after stepping out of your office. It’s not that he hates you. He’s just slightly irritated. With himself? Or is it you and that pretty face of yours and your comforting voice and your goddamn politeness and your accent. To be honest, the whole team adores your accent. He can’t tell. Remind you, this is a man who has probably never been shown any affection or tenderness so don't expect him to fall for you on the spot. This man needs therapy, like a lot of therapy. All he knows is that he doesn’t want to go through whatever it is he is feeling, finding the whole thing to be an inconvenience really. And because he doesn't know how to understand or face whatever these emotions are, he just buries it. It's easier for him that way.

Poor dude couldn’t even sleep last night, staring at the ceiling of his room and haunted by the idea that he accidentally offended you. This man may have a cold exterior but your scalpels are colder and sharper than the devil's jawline. He almost couldn’t blame you if you decided to inject some foreign substance into his bloodstream and make the whole thing look like it was a stroke. Wait, could you do that? Bloody fucking hell. This man spends too much time with his thoughts I swear.

The man spends the whole night trying to assess his feelings, or rather his attraction towards you, convinces himself you're just another pretty face. The man may be touch-starved but he knows there are other methods to handle his needs, even though it's been a long time since he's slept with a woman, like a really long time. But even then, that situation was different. There was never any intimacy involved, like a quick business transaction that finished just as quickly as it started. It only left him feeling as empty as he was before. Not to mention, he doesn't do well with human interaction and that one and only moment he had with a woman daunted him more than it needed to, and so he has remained abstinent ever since. And if he were being honest with himself, you're just a distraction. And how do you handle distractions? You steer clear of them.

So what does this man do? He does what he intended to do. He avoids you at all costs. Oh, is that you walking towards their small, makeshift kitchen to fix yourself a bagel in the morning? Guess what, he’s doing a full 180 and lurking behind a wall like Michael Myers and his stupid hedge, waiting until you’re finished so he can make himself his morning tea.

Not only that but he makes sure to take extra good care of himself, Vitamin C supplements or multivitamins, whatever it takes to keep himself in best health. He even looks up on Google for extra tips to prevent himself from having to send himself in. He had heard of the saying “an apple a day keeps the doctor away” and goes out of his way to buy an apple during his morning runs. But the poor chap has it all mixed up because when you walk into your office the next morning, you're surprised to see an apple just sitting there on your desk.

Ghost doesn't know that it's supposed to be the other way around and that the apple is actually supposed to be for himself. He doesn't bother to search up the meaning, nor does anyone bother to tell him because they don't even know that he's doing it in the first place. So every morning he goes on his run, he goes out and buys an apple, and so every morning you find one placed on your desk.

The first time you saw the fruit sitting there on the table where you worked, surrounded by your scattered paperwork, you were confused no doubt. You picked it up curiously in your hand, inspecting the bright red fruit before giving a shrug and biting into it, after you wash it of course. You think it's just a small little token of thanks from one of the men. Possibly Soap considering how flirty he was yesterday. Alejandro doesn't seem like the type to give fruits. He's more of a red rose and a bottle of wine kind of man.

But as days go by, each day you find an apple sitting on your desk. And as thoughtful as this gesture is, at this point, considering the amount of apples you've eaten, you're either going to have serious digestive issues or die of cyanide poisoning, as if you don't already have IBS. So what do you do? You start to collect the apples each morning, deciding to throw in your own twist to this gesture until one evening, the men come back from one of their missions to find a freshly baked apple pie and a stack of paper plates and some utensils sitting out on a table for them, including a small little card with the handwritten words "bone apple tea". What in the hell.

"What in the fucks is bone apple tea." Gaz scrunches his nose at the writing on the little card.

They're all standing around at the table staring at the pie with confusion written across their faces. All except Ghost of course, the way his eyes slightly widen once he sees it. His gut is telling him you're behind it. Hm I wonder what gave it away.

"What’s this?" Alejandro asks, tilting his head at the thing.

"Looks like apple pie." Gaz answers.

"Yes I know that." Alejandro remarks. “But what is it doing here?"

"Doubt it's from any one of you muppets." Price speaks up. He knows damn well none of these men know how to bake. There’s only one person here whose hands are skilled or nimble enough to make the braided trim on that crust. Not to mention the detailing in the center, like the way you carefully placed little leaf designs made from the crust on top of the braided design. Yup this was definitely you, unless someone else here had a secret talent they had been hiding.

Literally why are these men acting like the pie has poison it. As if Graves sent it or something. Just shut up and eat the pie before it gets cold you himbos.

"So who made it?" Soap asks, looking towards the others for answers.

"This," Alejandro chuckles after finally realizing, "this was made by the hands of a woman."

"Who, y/n?" Gaz quirks a brow, you're the only woman here.

How in the hell did you get the means to bake a complete fucking apple pie in a place like this? They always heard doctors have skilled and steady hands but what the actual fuck.

"Well don't mind me." Soap literally cuts a big ass slice for himself before going off to devour the thing.

The boys watch Soap basically almost moan once he takes a bite of your pie as he goes off yelling out something along the lines of "well tidy scran", before helping themselves to a slice.

Ghost is the last one to cut himself a slice. He was hesitant at first before finally giving in, plus he also got back from a mission and he's hungry. So when he digs in his fork and has his first taste, it's kinda like that scene from Ratatouille where the food critic Anton Ego finally takes a bite of Remy's food and is reminded of his childhood, except Ghost doesn't have a childhood.

Let me tell you these men are obsessed with your pie and are practically fighting over the last slice like a pair of siblings so don't be surprised when you wake up the next morning to the see that the plate that your pie was in is completely empty without a single crumb in sight. Jesus. Did they lick the table down too?

Also I think you may have just given Ghost a newfound sweet tooth. When he went back to his room that night, he's debating on whether he should keep his daily routine of giving you apples, so far it’s kept you away. What he doesn’t get is that you made a whole damn pie out of the apples he gave you when they were actually supposed to be for you, or him, if you look at it from his distorted perception. But wait. What if you know it's him, and that's why you made the pie in the first place? A way to a man’s heart is not only between the forth and fifth ribs, but it’s also through his stomach. And as much as he wants to deny it, he also kind of secretly wants you to bake another one. It's almost as if he's completely forgotten why he placed those apples on your desk in the first place.

So what do you see when you wake up the next morning? An empty plate and yet another apple sitting on your desk. Okay what the fuck. You've let it slide all those times but now you have got to know who's pulling this shit. It’s not that you hate apples, but the conception that you have no clue who’s behind this is making you start to view the poor defenseless fruit as an object of taunting and torment. And to be honest at this point, you're beginning to think this is some kind of joke. So with the apple in your hand, you head towards the common area where the others are currently settled.

“Okay who did it?” You call out once you enter the area.

Crickets chirping.

All heads snap towards you to see you standing there with an apple held in your hand. They're almost stunned to see you wandering about. They rarely ever see you since you're usually locked up in your office or your room.

The men have done a lot of shit so just what is it that are you asking. They stare at you with not a single thought behind their eyes, that is until their blood runs cold at what happened last night. Was the pie not meant for them? Shit.

“Did what?” Gaz gulps, trying to play it off as nothing happened.

"Who keeps leaving apples on my desk like I'm about to host a county fair?"

"Come again?" Price asks, not that he didn't hear you, but it's probably the most anyone has heard you speak that isn't related to your work. Not only that, but they’re so used to hearing your “doctor” voice that your normal voice is a whole pitch lower and almost sounds foreign and alien to their ears. Not that they’re complaining because they honestly love hearing it.

"Someone has been leaving apples on my desk every single day." You repeat yourself more slowly. "And I'd like to know who."

So you're not mad about the pie.

Ghost immediately snaps his head away from your direction and nearly chokes on his tea. It's almost a miracle he doesn’t get whiplash from how fast he turns away.

The others are still staring at you, a tad bit scared of the expression that sat on your face. They couldn't make out if you were upset or not.

"Well?" You ask, leaning against the doorframe with your hand stuffed in your coat pocket while your other hand tossed the apple about in the air.

"Couldn't be me." Soap answers.

The others shake their heads as you squint your eyes at each and every one of them, trying to decipher the culprit. "Whoever it is, I will find out." You take a bite out of the apple before tossing it to the nearest person, who happened to be Alejandro, before starting to leave the area.

Alejandro catches the apple between his hands, staring down at the fruit with a chuckle to see where you had bit into it before taking a bite of his own.

Soap can't help but clench his jaw at Alejandro's cockiness. Ghost just turns away unbothered, it’s none of his concern. Or at least that’s what he tells himself.

"Wait you're not mad about the pie?" Gaz calls out after you.

"What pie?" You turn back.

Wot

"The pie....from last night."

"I have no clue what you're talking about." You put on your best innocent expression before walking away.

The men snap their heads towards each other. Have they been poisoned? The longer they stare at each other, the more panicked they get.

Alejandro glances down at the apple you had thrown in his hands and is so close to spitting out the bite he had taken.

"I'm kidding." Your voice nearly makes them jump out of their skin as they turn to see your head popped through the doorway. "The pie was from me." You walk away again before turning back around. "Oh, I almost forgot. I have your blood results so if you're free, come see me when you get the chance."

Shit. Ghost thinks to himself after hearing you mention the blood results. He is hoping his blood sample got demolished in some shape or form, but the way you didn't even try to pull him aside to break the "unfortunate" news tells him otherwise. He's just not going to show.

The men watch you walk away in silence after your little moment of humor. They almost don't know how to react. The way the warmth of your voice blended with the obscurity of your words threw them in for a loop.

All except Ghost have no clue who has been sending you apples, but whoever it is that is sending you the fruit, they think that person is trying to win you over. So what started out as some misunderstanding on Ghost's end has now turned into this whole peacocking ordeal. Now it's a competition of who gets you better gifts in order to gain your affection, mainly Soap and Alejandro and even Gaz, but mostly Soap. Price still shows you appreciation for your work and what you do in his own way.

Poor Ghost was just trying to manifest "an apple a day keeps the doctor away". So who’s gonna tell him?

Anyways, when you return to your office to work on your paperwork, the boys go out to get you a little something before meeting up with you to go over their bloodwork results. Despite Soap and Gaz's efforts, Alejandro is the first to leave and the first to return. And just as Soap returns with his little gift for you, Alejandro beats him to it, a smirk playing on his lips as he enters your office with a red rose in hand. Poor Gaz wasn't able to find you anything special so he gets you a cool looking rock he saw instead.

Soap is practically fuming. If you squint hard enough, you might see smoke coming out his ears.

You hear a knock on your door and look up from where you sat at your desk to see Alejandro stepping into your office, a sly smirk on his lips as he holds out a rose.

"Alejandro." You quirk a brow. "What's this?"

"For you, hermosa."

"Oh?" You cock your head back in surprise as you take the rose from his hands. "What for?"

"Oh just a little way of showing appreciation." Alejandro leans against your desk.

"Why thank you Alejandro" You blink, trying your best to push down the blush that tries to creep itself onto your cheeks.

"My pleasure."

You decide to place the flower inside the empty vase you had already set out from before when you moved your things in. "I had been meaning to get some flowers to brighten up the area."

"There's no need" Alejandro smirks. "I'm afraid the rose doesn't compare to you. You do that all on your own."

Little do you know Soap is listening in on the whole thing with a frown. If he pressed his ear any closer he'd fall right through the door. Sure the Scots have their special charm but Alejandro is different and has the most rizz out of all of them, and Soap is fully aware and has always heard they make better lovers and that only adds to his panic.

Now you're definitely not able to hide the heat that spread through your face. You can't tell if it's the state of being flustered or just social anxiety. Well they weren't wrong about Alejandro having a way with words. "Geez, thank you Alejandro. But there really is no need for flattery."

"For you, anything hermosa."

Omfg this dude.

You look away from his strong gaze, managing to shove your flustered state away and stopping yourself from releasing the sharp wit you inherited from your father. Clearing your throat, you open up his file. "Well that really is kind of you Alejandro. And since you are already here, I have the results from your blood work."

"Oh? Everything should be good yes?"

"Well yes, for the most part but-"

"But what?" Alejandro looks confused. What's wrong with his blood?

"Your cholesterol levels are pretty high." You open up his file and read over his results.

"They are?"

"I'm afraid so, but not at a dangerous level. You should probably cut out some of that fried food and red meat and watch your butter intake. Nothing too serious though. Add some greens into your diet, as well as some nuts and whole grains and definitely more fruits and veggies and you're good to go." You hand him a copy of his results before giving a look of grimace. "But watch out on the fiber though. Too much of it can lead to increased bowel movements."

"Increased what?"

"You know, a case of the shits."

The way Soap pulls his ear away from the door and slaps his palm on mouth to keep himself from letting out the most offensive laugh known to mankind. If only you could have seen it. Is he going to bring this up in Alejandro's presence? Maybe.

Alejandro looks over the papers you gave him. "Wait really?"

"Yeeaaah." You give the poor fellow a sympathetic smile. "But hey, everything you need to know is right on those papers, so as long as you cut out the foods mentioned and get a higher intake of the others listed, you'll be back to normal in no time."

"Oh uh. Thank you y/n. I appreciate it."

"Anytime Alejandro." You smile. "You know where to find me."

The way Soap nearly trips over himself as he backs away from the door after hearing footsteps, as if he wasn't eavesdropping on every thing.

Alejandro opens the door and walks out of your office, eyes glued to the papers while Soap is just standing there trying not to be noticed.

The moment Alejandro is out of sight, Soap goes over and knocks on your door.

"Come in." You look up and smile to see Soap. Over the course of the few days since you first arrived here, you were to quick to warm up to the young Scotsman, finding comfort and humor in his personality. You enjoyed hearing him talk about just about anything, and his accent always helped to make whatever he had to say all the more interesting. It really is a good thing he does most of the talking since you make a better listener and love to hear what others have to say.

Soap knows you don't talk much and how you prefer to listen and hear stories, so he always makes sure to keep you entertained. This man is 100% golden retriever energy. Also he calls you lass and lassie and you just eat that shit up, he loves how you blush and that small restrained smile appears on your face whenever he says it. Don't worry, so would I. "Soap! You can have a seat if you want, this will be brief."

"Oh uh, I've actually got you something." Soap hands you a small box.

"Oh?" You quirk a brow as you take the box from his hands? What is it with everyone giving you gifts? Are they in on something you're not? "What is it?" You ask as you open the small box to see a bunch of what looks to be biscuits.

"Scottish shortbread." Soap smiles, rubbing his hand on the back of his neck. "I brought them along with me from back home but I thought you'd like them with your morning coffee."

"Wait, are you sure you don't want them for yourself? I feel bad."

"Nah. I can always get more.......if-when I go back home. You keep em. It's for ya. Think of it as a welcoming gift.....for all ya done, and the pie ya made for us."

"Soap, I don't know what to say." You give the man a heartfelt smile. "Thank you.....really, it's very thoughtful of you. It'll give me a variety from my bagels."

"Don' mention it." Soap places his hands behind his back before noticing a small framed picture you had set up on your desk that definitely wasn't there before. "Is that you?"

"Hm?" You raise you brow to see what he is referring to and seeing him gesture to the photo.

"Oh. Yeah, that's me as a little girl." You glance at the photo as a soft smile appears on your face. It was a picture of you when you were a little girl around the age of 5, when your dad took you on a camping trip to Zion. The two of you were sitting near the tent he had set up overlooking the mountain range with you sitting in his arms while he played his guitar, wearing that same old baseball cap of his that you had grown accustomed to seeing as you grew up. The longer you looked at the picture and relived that core memory, glancing at the crooked grin that sat on your little face and the way your father beamed, the more your face began to match the fond look that radiated off your father's eyes as he looked down at your giggling state.

"That's quite the smile you got there." Soap teases, chuckling at the expression you held in the photo.

"Oh please." You roll your eyes, knowing exactly what he was joking about. "I know I looked goofy. My baby teeth were falling out."

"And that's yer dad?"

"Yup. That's my old man."

"Ya have yer father's eyes." Soap smiles at you, knowing now where you inherited that certain warmth held in your eyes that was able to put the coldest man at ease by just one look.

You let out a soft chuckle, glancing down at the ground to blink away the tears that have yet to form before looking back up at the soldier. "I've been told."

"Where was this taken? The scenery is absolutely braw."

"That was taken at Zion National Park in Utah. My dad had taken me there on a camping trip."

"It's absolutely gorgeous."

"Maybe I'll take you one day."

"Ya mean it?" Soap turns towards you, a grin forming on his face.

"Why not? It's been a while since I went, not since the photo."

"I think you've just made my day lass." Soap smirks before turning to the other photo. "And I'm guessing that's you as well." Soap gestures to the other photo of you around your middle school years that your dad had taken of you, wearing a wet suit as you sat on your surfboard, a grin on your face and your hair matted with salt water while one of your hands formed the shaka sign. "I dinnae ken you surfed."

"Oh yeah, surfing was my life. This was back when I had caught my first wave in Hawaii. My dad was so proud. Took me out for shaved ice right after and couldn't stop bragging to everyone there about how effortlessly I had tube ridden that thing."

"Your dad sounds like a great man."

"The best."

Soap notices the way your smile ever so slightly dropped at one of the corners, as if some sadness had managed to overcome whatever memories that lied in your head so he clears his throat, deciding not to press on the subject any better. "So how does my blood look?"

"Good actually." You blink, his statement reminding you of what you were going to do since he stepped into your office in the first place. "Your levels are all pretty balanced." You hand him a copy of his results. "As for the muscle cramps you mentioned, try to get a higher intake of electrolytes like potassium, magnesium, and calcium. And most importantly, don't forget to stay hydrated and drink lots of water."

"Aye ma'am. I'll make sure of it."

"Thank you Soap."

"No, thank you." Soap gives you one last smile before heading out. "I'll see you around."

"Bye."

It was not long after Soap left that Gaz entered next followed by Price, hearing you go over their results with intent ears. You actually really loved the little rock Gaz had given you, he had even drawn a smiley face on for you. You thought it was really cute despite his embarrassment in not finding you something better. And after the two left, there was only one person left that had yet to show up at your door. Simon 'Ghost' Riley.

Not wanting to pressure the man who looks like he'd stab you for looking at him the wrong way, you decided to stay at your desk, working over some paperwork of your own until the time comes when he decides to show up whenever he sees comfortable.

Picking up your mug, you decide to get some more coffee, leaving your office and heading to the kitchen area to brew yourself a new cup. Looking up from your feet, you see Ghost walking walking in your direction in front of you.

"Ghost!" You call out to him, or as much as you can call out. You never were one for raising your voice, despite the many times your previous teachers had urged you to speak up, displeased with the way you preferred to keep to yourself as opposed to your more extroverted peers. But even when carrying out their commands to speak louder, you always hated doing so, thinking it drew too much attention towards you. It's a wonder you got through med school and became a doctor in the first place.

Ghost had heard you calling out his name and immediately his muscles tense. The last thing he wanted was for you to see him because that only meant one thing, being dragged into your office to go over his blood results until something else insulting slips from his lips. I promise he doesn't hate your guts! So in order to evade you, this man does the first thing that comes to mind, he walks straight into the nearest room, which just so happens to be the shared showers. Simon you dumb fuck. Let’s hope Price isn’t butt ass naked in there for Simon’s sake.

You blink, standing there with your mug that your friend from college thought would be funny to gift you when you started med school, the one that had the words "I have a PHD" in bold colorful letters with the finer print "pretty huge dick" right below it (of course you never used that mug back at the hospital or else you'd hear about it).

So with your mug in hand, you watch the masked man walk straight into the room where the shared showers were. Huh. Well that's weird. You try to give the man the benefit of the doubt, thinking he just did not hear you. Maybe he'll stop by later. So shrugging off what just happened, you head into the kitchen to make yourself a fresh cup of coffee. God an iced coffee sounds good right now.

Once you had headed back to your office, finishing up your work and taking little breaks in between to read your book or snack on something, an hour turned into two, and so forth. Until you looked at your clock and it was already past the time of sunset. Jesus. Where did this dude go? Getting up from your chair, you step out of your office, holding the door open and seeing not a single soul headed in your direction. What in the-

With furrowed brows, you step back into your office, staring down at Ghost's results that just sat there waiting to be picked up.

"Goddamn it." You hiss between your teeth. You have no idea what his issue is or why he avoids you as if you spit in his fruit loops or tea or whatever. But if he keeps this up, it could interfere with your own job. Looking around at your desk, an idea pops into your head as you grab two things that lied there, a sticky note and a two dum-dum lollipops, a sugar cookie flavor and a butterscotch one.

Heading out of your office, you head towards where the men's rooms are located before stopping at a certain particular one, surveying the area around you to make sure no one sees you before staring straight at the door in front of you. Taking out your pen, you write on the note "please stop by my office when you get a chance", making sure to add your initials in the corner before taping it to his door along with the two lollipops, hoping the candy will be some sort of bribe.

"God I hope this works and he doesn't shoot me in the head." You mutter out before heading back to your own quarters that was separate from the men's due to standard protocol. Throwing off your coat and your clothes, you threw on an oversized t-shirt and some sweats, eating a microwaveable dinner in your own room before getting ready to go to bed. There was nothing you craved more than to collapse onto the mattress and bury yourself under the covers. And as you finished brushing your teeth, turning off the lights and getting into a comfortable position under your blanket, all you could do was stare at the ceiling above you.

Little did you know, that same night, in that same moment, there was another who could not sleep, staring at the ceiling as you did now. He had saw the note that you had left him on his door, as well as the two lollipops. It almost annoyed him, whatever it was you were showing towards him. And it did not help that the note had smelled of you, of that perfume that oh so enriched his senses. The man literally has your note laying on top of his bedside table along with the lollipops. He'll throw it out first thing tomorrow he tells himself.

"Oh come the fuck on." You moaned as you turned over onto your side but to no avail. No matter how hard you tried to shut your eyes and shut out any thoughts that attempted at keeping you awake, you just could not fall asleep until you finally give up. "Jesus fuck shit fuck." You hiss to yourself as you throw the blanket off you, sitting up on your bed and throwing on your sweatpants before getting up. Usually on nights like this where you couldn't sleep, you'd find a way to calm your nerves, whether it be reading or drawing or listening to a comforting audiobook.

So, grabbing your pillow and blanket, you open up your closet and grab your father's acoustic guitar, going back over to your bed and staring at the framed photo of your dad that sat on the bedside table before taking that with you as well. Leaving your room, you make sure to be as quiet as possible, looking both ways before heading up towards the roof of the building.

When you were little and had trouble sleeping, your dad used to take you outside to where the two of you had built a little fort, where the two of you would lay under the stars, brushed over by the cool night breeze as he played his guitar, singing old folk and slow classic rock songs until you finally fell asleep. And as you stepped onto the roof, craning your neck to stare up at the stars above you, you were reminded of those moments and the peace it gave you. Setting your bedding down, you prop the picture of your dad up next to you before sitting down with the guitar in hand.

"Hey dad." Your voice is a whisper as you look down at the photo of your father beside you. The photo was taken not even a month after you were born. He had taken you to the fire station he was stationed at, excited to introduce his team to his new precious baby girl, his first child. You could almost say it was your favorite photo of him, sitting on the front bumper of the firetruck in his uniform with you bundled up in a pink blanket in his arms.

"I know it's been a bit of a while since we've last talked." You sigh, forming your fingers into a chord on the fretboard of the guitar. "So to make up for it, I'm going to sing you one of the songs I always used to sing. You know the one, it's one of my favorites, and yours too."

Despite his efforts to fall asleep, Simon had ended up stepping out of his room, walking about the grounds to somewhat ease his mind. This was obviously nothing new to him, he always had trouble sleeping. And during those nights he had trouble sleeping, he'd take a walk to help clear his head. He found comfort in the silence of the night, when everything and everyone was asleep. He would usually go to his favorite spot on the rooftop, where he would seek refuge under the obsidian skies and the silver stars.

As he goes up the stairs that lead up to the roof, he stops at the sound that comes from beyond the door, what sounds to be someone singing and strumming the guitar. Curious to know who the hell had taken his spot and had the radio playing, he goes up further to investigate. So imagine his surprise when he finds you there instead, wrapped up in your blanket and strumming against your guitar, singing The Sundays cover of Wild Horses.

"Childhood living is easy to do The things that you wanted, I bought them for you Graceless lady, you know who I am You know I can't let you slide through my hands" Your voice is ethereal as you sing out the lyrics, your face molded into these deep emotions you can't quite explain.

"Wild horses couldn't drag me away Wild horses couldn't drag me away

I watched you suffer a dull, aching pain And now you've decided to show me the same No sweeping exits or offstage lines Could make me feel bitter or treat you unkind

Wild horses couldn't drag me away Wild, wild horses couldn't drag me away

Faith has been broken and tears must be cried Let's do some living after we die

Wild horses couldn't drag me away Wild, wild horses couldn't drag me away

Wild, wild horses, we'll ride them someday Wild, wild horses, we'll ride them someday."

During the entirety of the song, Simon stands there in the distance behind you, hidden in the shadows, entranced, and can't seem to explain the tingles he feels washing over his body. He thinks he has intruded upon you and wants to leave you to your solitude in what seems to be an intimate moment for you, and yet he can't seem to be able to get his feet to move. Instead he's watching you with this newfound interest. He had never expected you to play the guitar as you did, nor have the voice that you did. So as you finish your song, he almost trips over his own feet trying to back away, scared that you might somehow notice that he had been there this whole time.

"God I miss you dad." You wipe away at the tears that start to spill down your cheeks despite your attempts to wipe them away with the back of your sleeve, scanning your eyes over the stars that scattered across the sky, imagining he was up there amongst them. "I miss you so much."

Regaining his footing, Ghost is careful to open the door leading back into the building, that is until he hears you let out what sounds to be a choked sob. He turns his head back towards you, seeing you bring your knees up to your chest as you cry out, mumbling something he can't quite understand. With his hand still holding the door open, he looks down at the set of stairs, turning his head back towards you for one more time before going down the steps, being careful to shut the door without any noise possible.

Part 3

Tags: @souls-rain @euovennia @i-wish-we-could-stay @depressedacidtest @gh0stm3g @thequeenofbigmacs @k1llerch4n @abbiesxox @feraltiddies @wand-erer5 @1redheaded3dragon @anisa269 @joceymoo @mango-corner @classickook @trueee33 @sockertop @lupskelly @chxbits @kuwizo @sluxm3ozt @tobybestupid @anarchygoose @lez-zuha @thatoneautor0123 @marvelmysterywoman @ella-error505 @awkward-0 @ariessux @kermitdefroghere @urloverx @alldaysdreamers @rat-elbows @nananarc @watersquirtpewpewboomm @izzyisstuff

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keenvictory · 1 year

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Hi Lovely~

Synopsis: KINK Alphabet

: ̗̀➛ Featured Characters: Jacob Alden x Gn!Reader

̗̀➛ Content Warnings: Pure nsfw! Stalking, dubious consent / voyeurism, somnophilia, BDSM dynamics and kink talk.

̗̀➛ Additional notes: Jacob Alden is my girlfriend, my babygirl, my sweet puppy. I wrote this in 2 days with nothing but lust in my heart. Go play the Lurking for Love Demo right now if you haven’t!

A = Aftercare | Oh someone please take care of this poor, big puppy. Whether he’s domming or subbing this guy is gonna be spent, he just can’t help but give his all for you, even when big, wet tears are dripping down his cheeks and he’s shooting blanks, he can’t get enough of you. Tell him he did good and he’ll just melt, Jacob is nothing but putty in your hands in those first few minutes of post-sex bliss. He’s nothing but good to you, after he’s pulled himself out of that lusty haze. Fresh water, homecooked meals, his big, soft arms, there’s nothing he wouldn’t give you for treating him so good... Well, except your freedom.

B = Bondage | Jacob prefers to do the tying, rather then being tied up himself. Anything is good, rope, handcuffs, tape if he’s in a hurry. Seeing you tied up and waiting for him, unable to run, to resist, goes straight to his cock every time. The first few times he couldn’t tear himself away from that camera, capturing every perfect angle, every push and strain of the restraints, every flush or shiver of your skin. He didn’t dare blink, as if you’d disappear the second he looked away. Of course, you can’t, not when you’re tied up like that, as soon as he remembers that he can’t keep his hands off you. Can’t hurt to nudge him in the right direction though.

Despite his preference, he’ll happily let you tie him up, at first, until he realizes he can’t reach out and touch you when his arms are tied up, and then its a session of sweet, sweet torture.

C = Collar | Jacob would cum through his jorts if you gifted him a collar. Doesn’t matter if its supposed to be for you or him, its a guaranteed way to make an instant mess of the man, in his pants, and in his heart. The Collar itself is just as likely to make him cry as it is to make him cum, but a leash attached is purely erotic. Tug it while he gives you head, let the rough band of leather tighten around his throat and he’ll moan like he’s on the brink of something divine. Outside of play he’d adore something like an eternity day collar, subtle enough to wear it out and about, with that darker pull of being owned by the other, forever.

D = Dominance | Switch Jacob soothes the soul. Honestly, he’s just happy to be with you no matter what, what does it matter who’s in control, as long as you’re beside him or in him or on top of him. Whether he’s fucking you into the mattress, or letting you fill him up so good, he is totally smitten with you.

E = Edgeplay | This man can’t edge to save his life. He wants you so badly, all the time, and when you are just so so close he can’t help it, he wants to hear all the sounds you’ll make, he wants to see the exact moment that coil of want and heat inside you snaps. Once you get him started, its hard to get him to stop. But he’ll try so hard if you ask him to, every edge driving you both mad with need.

Edging him, however, is a beautiful sight. He’s so wonderfully needy, and so vocal about it too. He’ll beg you to let him cum, promise you anything you want, give all of himself to you if only you let him cum, just once, you can edge him all night afterwards if you want, just once, please. It’s a perfect balancing act, right on the edge of overwhelming. Jacob loves basking in your attention, when you’re so focused on him, on teasing him and bringing him right to the edge, it hurts so good. You might have to tie him down, though, he’s desperate enough to act out and take what he wants by force if you don’t.

F = Feelings | In the moment, he feels nothing but euphoric, he’ll do anything, say anything, so long as you keep looking at him, keep touching him like that. Pride goes out the window the moment you have your hot mouth on his cock. Nothing is too embarrassing to say, no amount of begging too needy. The next morning, however, is a different matter. He gets embarrassed about the filthy things that fall out of his mouth when he’s close, promises himself that next time will be different, that he won’t make a fool of himself to you this time. That too goes out the window when your hand slips beneath his waistband.

G = Garments | Jacob loves lingerie of all and any kinds. You dressed up just for him? In an outfit so seductively revealing only he can ever see it? Be still his beating heart. The outfit itself doesn’t matter, be it leather, or lace, or a sexy nun costume from Spirit Halloween, he’s hard as stone and fumbling for his camera. That’s the only downside, to putting on something sexy for him, you’ll have to wait an hour while he captures every angle of you in that get-up, unless of course, you do something to distract him from that precious camera.

H = Heated | He isn’t really the hate-sex type, not when his obsession with you runs so inhumanely deep. Possessive sex, on the other hand, is a given. He’ll be at it for hours, making you cum over and over until you’re seeing stars, muttering to himself that he’s the only one who can make you feel this good, he’s the only one who can see you like this, who can make you squirm like this. He’ll fuck away any memory of the stranger who asked for your number until all you can think about, all you want, is him.

I = Importance | Kinks aren’t a deal breaker for Jacob, he might be a little mopey and a little clingy if you aren’t one to lavish praise (he only wants to make sure he’s doing a good job), but his lust for you can’t be shaken from one unshared fetish. If there’s anything he really needs to get his rocks off, he’ll just put his depraved imagination to use.

J = Just Kidding | He’s a little awkward about broaching the kink subject, bless him. He’d have a much easier time of it if he was sure it was something you were into before bringing it up, he doesn’t want to scare you off with something unusual. He probably stalks your browser history to try figure out what you’re into before asking if it’s something you’d be into. He’s too nervous to ask you to praise him directly, but it’s pretty easy to infer when he, panting and sweaty, asks you if he’s doing good while he’s nestled between your thighs.

K = Kinks | Praise this man!! Call him a good puppy while he eats you out, tell him he fills you up so good when he bucks into your soft flesh, or that he takes you so well and watch him practically preen against you. He’d be accidentally into overstimulation, he rarely goes in with the intent to overstimulate you or himself, but he gets a bit overexcited, and can end up overstimulating you both if you don’t coax him back a little. You’re just so gorgeous when you moan like that, how can he possibly be satisfied only seeing you cum once? He’d definitely be into experimenting with power dynamics in your relationship, that man would let you walk him like a dog, lets be real.

L = Limits | This man would rather die then be cuckolded. If you brought it up, even as a joke, you could watch the light die in his eyes in real time! Anything that involves other people touching or looking at you sexually is a no go for him. You’re all his, and he doesn't like to share his toys. Degradation would also be a tricky one for Jacob. He loves you so much, talking down or harshly to you doesn’t come naturally, it’d have to be negotiated well beforehand for him to even consider it.

M = Masturbation | Yes, oh yeah. He’s already tried masturbating with you, long before you got together. Pressed up against your clothes in your closet, staring through a crack in the door and surrounded by your scent. Desperately stroking himself, and trying his best not to moan, not to breathe too loudly, too hard, and alert you to his watchful presence. Timing his strokes to your own movements, watching every twitch of your hips, every flutter of your eyes. He’d jump at the chance to take it further, to watch you up close, to time his orgasm with yours. Forgive him if his hands wander, either to grab his camera or to touch you, he really can’t help himself.

N = Noise | Jacob is incredibly talkative during sex, even if its just muttered or whispered mostly to himself, it’s an old habit from... a lot of masturbating with nothing but his hand and a good imagination. The only way to shut him up is to let him give you head, but he’s always an enthusiastic volunteer for that he’ll end up moaning into you, his breathing loud and ragged. He’ll rant and rave about how good you feel, how much he loves you, how gorgeous you look when you moan like that and too many obscenities to count. He usually ends up embarrassing himself with the things he says, but he just can’t seem to stop himself either.

O = Orgies | Wanting to share you, in anyway, is a difficult concept to get his head around. He doesn’t want anyone else, why do you? Is he not good enough? Does he not satisfy you? It leads him down a spiral of self-doubt that isn’t pleasant for either of you. If you manage to convince him that it’s something you want to experience as a couple, like a swingers event, he might be more open to it, but that’s a long and hard road to go down.

P = Porn | Homemade porn is Jacobs thing, secretly snapped photos of you asleep, or in the shower, or getting changed are printed and fucking painted with cum within minutes. He doesn’t feel the need to use porn from strangers, not anymore, not when he has you. At the start of his obsession, when he’s hungry for you but hasn’t yet taken enough photos to satisfy himself, he might scour the internet for pornstars with your features, with the same color hair, the same body type. It doesn’t quite sate him, though, nothings as good as the real thing, and he ends up feeling worse for having tried. Strangely, he feels more ashamed of trying to find porn that looks like you, then making his own without you knowing.

Q = Questions | Jacob is pretty curious about kinks, and is fairly open to trying a lot of new things with you. He wants to make you feel happy and satisfied at the end of the day, he doesn’t really mind if he has to put on cat ears and the maid dress to do that. A lot of things he’d try at least once, topping, bottoming, pegging, outfits, chains, paddles, even doing stuff outside, if that's what you wanted. So long as you can keep it between the two of you, he’s willing to try.

R = Roleplay | It’s one of those things Jacob would be too embarrassed to bring up, but willing to try. You’re already his biggest fantasy, he doesn’t need or particularly want you to pretend to be anyone else. But he’s happy to be the priest, or the pizza delivery guy, or the handsome stranger you’re picking up from the bar for a one night stand, if you want him to. Roleplay that lets you both be yourselves, but play out a different scenario he’d like the most, he doesn’t want you calling out anyone's name but his own.

S = Safeword | If he got to pick the safeword it would be something insane, like Crawfish, or Rainbow trout, or Whale shark. He’s very good at respecting the safeword, any use of it and whatever play is happening is done, and he’s at your side in an instant, making sure you’re not hurt and have whatever you need to feel better. The last thing he wants is for you to feel unsafe around him, he’s taken so many measures to prevent that. He’s reluctant to use it himself though, even when things get overwhelming or he’s in over his head, he doesn’t want to risk disappointing or upsetting you. He gets better at it with time, but he you know how he is with boundaries.

T = Touch | Sensory play is fun! Jacob would have no qualms with using wax or ice on either of you, and it’d be a fun experiment to see what feels best or gets the biggest reaction. Restricting the senses would also be interesting. He’d be a big fan of blindfolds, of the suspense and the trust involved, but less of a fan of things like gags. They’re fun, for a short time, but he loves hearing your voice when you’re on the brink too much to be able to use it the whole session.

U = Undermined | Jacob Alden is the furthest thing from a brat you can possibly find. As a sub, he’s always on his best behavior, trying to fulfil your every request and satisfy your every whim, he just wants to be good for you. As a dom, he is so incredibly soft that it’s almost too easy to be a brat. Tease him just enough though, and you’ll get the punishment you want.

V = Vengeance | Things like overstimulation or restraining him is a perfect way to punish him, he rarely acts out on purpose, usually simply unable to stop himself from cumming when being edged, or reaching out to touch you when he’s supposed to be keeping his hands to himself. His body works faster then his brain, is all. So making sure he can’t touch you at all? Or making cum over and over until he’s red-faced and sweetly pleading with you to give him a break? It just makes perfect sense.

On the other hand, he’s not great at coming up with punishments for you by himself, but he can be incredibly devious, in his own way. Aside from the usual things, like spanking or sensation play, he has a set of punishments that are more rewarding for him, then punishing for you. Tying you up with a vibrating toy set to high, and leaving you there for however long he deems fit as he watches you through the lens of his camera.

W = Whipping | Impact play is where things get a little hesitant. He wouldn’t mind a little spanking, a paddle or hand here or there, but he doesn’t want to seriously hurt you, not if you’re here returning his feelings at least. Choking or knife play or anything similar he could handle, but he’d do a lot of research before hand, to figure out the safest way to help you get your sick little rocks off.

X = X-Tra | Jacob cums a lot. Like could overflow a shot glass with one climax, passed out eight times but here's your cereal a lot. He’s a little embarrassed about it, when it just means there’s a fuck-ton more clean up to do. But if you’re someone who likes creampies, or simply just watching him make a big ol’ mess of himself, he’ll be secretly very flattered with the extra attention it gets him.

Y = Yes, Sir | He’s not attached to any honorific, sir, daddy, etc, he won’t ask you to call him something in particular, but he won’t be mad if you have a title you want to call him either. It’s not that he’s disinterested in honorifics, but his favorite thing to hear you moan out is his own name, he doesn’t think it gets much better then that. He likes pet-names in general, and prefers some of the sweeter sounding ones, rather then any official title. Pumpkin, peanut, puppy, it all makes him a little weak in the knees.

#lurking for love #lfl game #jacob alden #jacob alden x reader #carnivorekitty #carnivorekitty oc #lfl #ur honour? clear him of all crimes #he's just a little guy

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stealingyourbones · 2 years

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ok so like I've just had horrible Tall!Jazz brainrot for the past 24 hours because of you and I need to share this. it's a lot too so buckle up

tall jazz is good and all but ya know what would make it even better? werewolf Jazz.

I can imagine Jason just falling all over himself cause this pretty tall lady not only is super strong, smart and bad ass. but she just also regularly shifts into this tall ass wolf creature to rip off people's faces when needed.

I can see Jason being dragged to some type of Ball/Gala thing by Bruce and him kinda lurking around the room to avoid his family and nosy rich people. This just isn't his scene and the only reason he's here is cause B thinks something big is gonna happen while they're there.

Him just casually bumping into Jazz, like they're both distracted and Jason just kinda slams into this brick wall of human being and getting knocked to the ground. Cue him looking up from the floor to this tall buff lady in a sparkly dress, all flustered about knocking him over and him just blue screening cause wow

She just picks him up and sets him on his feet too, like she's so worried she accidentally gave this poor man a concussion cause hes not responding and his soul just kinda leaves his body for a moment

he just kinda blurts out something about being able to die happy now or some other corny crap that makes him lose like all his bad boy edge with her (not that he had very much with how things are going) and she just looses it. it was probably some reference to a book or something they'd both have interest in

She's giggling and blushing, so Jason is like I still gotta chance with her time to pull out all the stops. like it just evolves into him spending the night trying to make her laugh and getting to know her, she starting making references and jokes back and forth with him too. A lot of them are dead jokes too, like while his family gets weird about his death jokes Jazz just starts making her own back.

One of them mentions a younger brother, either one starts first but once they get going it almost becomes a competition with the weirdest stories about their baby brothers, Jason's like yeah one of my brothers regularly climbs in the chandelier to try and get out of going to school and Jazz is like my brother once rode a vacuum, etc. Just going back and forth getting to know each other.

Jason can tell somethings a little off about Jazz, she steps too quietly, her teeth are sharper then they should be and she keeps watch of all the exits here. Jason probably assumes she's a meta of some kind once he notices it all.

While Jazz can just feel the ectoplasm/pit in him making him leminal, she catches his eyes flash green at least twice the entire time they're talking and she can tell he's hiding something. Jazz is just like, oh well not my place to ask this guy if he's died and came back or anything.

Then the thing Bruce was worried about does happen, cause of course it does. probably a fear gas attack in the middle of the ballroom.

Cue the BatFam kinda leaping into action, herding people away from the gas and Jason being with Jazz trying to get her out. Maybe something/someone keeps them stuck there and Jason has a respirator from B but Jazz doesn't so he's trying not to freak out.

Jazz is obviously panicking a bit as she's stuck in the gas, shoulders shaking, breathing a bit too quick and hard. But she just starts slowing her breathing and calming her self down before just growling in rage. just full on animalistic growl and snarl as she stands up straight and gets ready to beat up the bums keeping them locked in there.

Jason trying and failing to keep her from running further into the smoke, watching her as she suckered punches a henchman in the face breaking his nose, and Jason realizing he's so done for.

I could totally see Jazz just full on transforming on the dance floor mid fight or something too, just one moment things are getting a bit too close for comfort for one of the bats and this giant wolf lady in a sparkly dress just one hit K.O.s a guy to keep them safe.

as for why Jazz is a werewolf in the first place maybe she got bit by one, maybe Wulf turned her or maybe a accident in her parents lab infected her. however it did happen she just took it in stride and was like now I can protect my little half dead brother better this is fine by me.

I totally believe that everyone from Amity Park just isn't all that effected by fear gas, like sure it might send them into a panic attack but that's easy enough to work through after facing your own mortality almost every week for the past however many years. Like Amity Park natives have lived and breathed unimaginable fear and horrors for so long they just aren't all that scared of Joker or any other Gotham Rouge.

Anyways I think that's all of the brain rot out now, this was kinda more of a ramble then like an actual prompt so sorry about that lol.

Bro I don’t CARE that it’s a ramble this is fucking INCREDIBLE!!!

It’s wild I was just rambling about Vampire Jazz stuff with some pals and now there’s this. Perfect timing dude wow.

Jazz and Jason just tripping over each other but both are being sickeningly sweet. They’re just happily chatting and mentally fawning over each other.

Werewolf jazz in her cute battle dress taking out Scarecrow goons left and right? Oh man I mean I’d blue screen too Jason I don’t blame ya.

Oh yeah and the second Jason hears that growl he mentally shuts down. He didn’t know something like that could be that hot till now but damn is he gonna go with it cause fuck look at this girl just decimate the bad guys. That’s hot as hell. She winks at him while she dislocates a goons shoulder and Jason just falls even deeper in love

#danny phantom #dp x dc #dpxdc #dc comics #writing prompts #tall jazz #dp x dc prompt #bones replies #anon

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criticallyacclaimedstranger · 1 year

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Pascal characters' fave sex positions

It's probably been done before, but let's have fun. Doing (heh) the ones I've written.

Frankie. My boy wants eye contact. Would be into tantric sex, if he only knew what it was. Favourite position is lotus. You on top, but both of you doing the work. Slow and intimate, both hands free to roam and caress. Kissing, or foreheads together as you rock gently in rhythm. Plenty of opportunity to go harder, if need be. You gorgeous tits near his face. He's in heaven.

Javi P. From behind. Duh. He wants it hard and fast. Even when it's serious, and he's opened up to you, is devoted to you, and has started to heal from all the shit that happened in Colombia, he needs to lose himself in the grip of your cunt, the sweat running down his body, your wails of pleasure, the way your pretty ass bounces with each thrust. The messed up lad has some issues but knows what he likes, ok?

Ezra. Anything goes as long as your legs are on his shoulders and you're holding on to something for dear life.

Dieter. Amazon. Hoo boy does this babygirl love to be fucked by you in that position! Legs akimbo in the air, you bouncing on his dick like he's nothing but a sex toy to you. That's the good shit. He's gonna marry the fuck outta you.

Mando. One day he wants to be able to remove his helmet and have really intimate missionary sex with you, but he's not there yet, poor guy. Until then, the touch-starved little critter has to make do with the next best thing: your soft, round ass. God, it drives him wild to see that ass bounce. His favourite, therefore, is you reverse riding him. He mourns the fact that he can't gaze into your eyes and bask in the pleasure that he sees in them, but he is a patient man. He'll get there, eventually. For now, he enjoys the fuck out of your slow ride or energetic bouncing, your beautiful butt there for him to grab. Tin can man needs softness in his life, okay?

Marcus M. This is a man who will lie next to you and kiss and caress you for three hours straight before he slides into you and fucks you slowly on your side. It's not the most practical position but he wants both of you to be comfortably reclined, and in full body contact. At some point you're just sharing limbs and there is no telling where you end and he begins. It's really nice.

Joel. This middle-aged, broken piece of sweet, competent garbage fucks hard and fast because death lurks around every corner and this time could be his last. He'll dig so deep into you in missionary that you're sure he'll reemerge with gold or something. You always walk funny after. His knees always hurt. It's worth it.

Pero. He will have his dick sucked, thank you. The women he gets involved with are unsanitary and he doesn't need a new itch down there. Learn that the hard way. (Feral lil shit never stops to think about how often he washes his dick, though.) He will fuck a pair of nice big titties, too. No woman ever got knocked up from having her face painted white, if you catch my drift.

Dave. To suburban murder daddy it's not so much the position as it is the location. He loves danger, and lives for any kind of risky fornication he can think of: Walmart's parking lot, in the backseat with tinted windows, restaurant bathroom, his home office during a phone conference, the cinema, Thanksgiving dinner at his parents' house... you get it. He is the fingering king who can get you off with the crook of one of his fingers faster than any vibrator, before he presses you up against the wall or bends you over to fuck you fast and hard, before people start to wonder what's going on.

Oberyn. Hanging upside down in a trapeze or some shit. King is an athlete. Don't let the constant eating and lazy cat-in-a-sunny-spot manners fool you. He's just fuelling up.

#frankie morales #javier peña #dave york #ezra #dieter bravo #pero tovar #oberyn martell #marcus moreno #joel #the mandalorian #my fic #headcanons

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belbobiggins · 9 months

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Okay okay okay I just I need to let out all these ideas I have for one singular TF2 OC

Keep in mind that I've never made an OC before so if this is really shittily written and thought out that's why

Okay so her name is Bella. At first it was just a few thoughts like: haha I wonder how spy would deal with a random child or lol I bet pyro gets along great with kids. Then I got an idea. What if I gave Heavy a FOURTH sister, and the reason we didn't see her during the comics is because she was busy playing with dolls in her room. She's a little girl, so what if she managed to sneak herself into all of Heavy's luggage and undetectedly be carried back to America with Heavy. Stuff happens, yada yada, she ends up staying at the base with all the mercs.

I just. I think some mercs would end up having great bonds with her, and others (Spy the sly and Medic gaming) not so much. Take Engineer for example: I think he'd definitely be too happy about not being the shortest person there, so much so he'd probably pick on her a little about her height. But I also think he'd make a great father figure and would end up teaching her a lot inside the workshop.

Scout would probably have an older sibling type vibe to him, same goes for Pyro. While Pyro would play with her and enjoy doing kid stuff, Scout is an overconfident white boy who would take on a "mean" older brother role. He'd be an absolute dick, same as he is to everyone, but I think he'd have his moments where she and he could connect.

Medic. I have SO SO SO many ideas for this. Heavy is her older brother, yeah? She snuck into his stuff and came with because she was afraid of being away from/losing him. Now this psychotic German comes along and is taking all of Heavy's attention. How is Bella gonna react? Poorly. She's probably jealous and will glare at poor Medic when his back is turned. I think the two have a bit of friendly(?) competition going on.

Soldier is... Well... The Uncle™. He dated her sister Zhanna some point (due to me being a Freedom Fries enjoyer, Zhanna and Soldier split up but are still friends :]) so she probably likes having him around. He frequently went to her home in Russia to see her sister, so it's expected that Bella and Soldier are a bit close, because he's probably still considered a part of the family by Zhanna. Soldier will make her medals every time she does something patriotic and frequently teaches her about (incorrect) history. He has also taken her rocket jumping a few times, unbeknownst to Heavy.

Demoman probably has around the same deal going on as Soldier. He's friends with Soldier, so he's automatically okay in her book. Sometimes he'll sneak her a sip of his scrumpy, and he tells her what "a good laddie" she is everytime she runs him an errand or gives him a hug. These two have a very friendly bond I think.

Spy is... Well... A sneaky 🚩French🚩 man. While he also hangs around Soldier a lot, I have a feeling Bella and him just generally avoid each other. He's not very good with kids (cough cough the Scout situation cough) and probably isn't very fond of them either, and She doesn't like him because he's rude and kind of creepy. He can just disappear whenever he wants and lurks around in the shadows in his spare time? Hell no. She is generally uncomfortable around him, and Spy is... Spy.

Sniper. Actually, despite what most would think, I think these two would be pretty okay with each other. Not as close as Bella and some of the others of course, but they co-exist contently. They're very similar. She doesn't talk much, same as Sniper. She's a bit introverted. She likes avoiding confrontation. The two just have mutual respect for each other. Sometimes she'll find him sitting on the roof of the base and they'll just lay there silently together, simply enjoying the company. I think I'll have the most fun drawing her and Sniper's moments together.

WOW that's a lot of words. Conclusion: I want the mercs to take care of this kid. If you have any questions about her, I'd gladly answer an ask. (PLEASE TALK TO ME I'M DESPERATE :])

#tf2 #team fortress 2 #tf2 oc #oc #tf2 engineer #bella #art #click the images for better quality

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dragon-queen-rhaenyra · 2 years

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far from ire | rhaenyra x daemon

𝖽𝖺𝖾𝗆𝗈𝗇'𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁𝗍𝗌 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗋𝗁𝖺𝖾𝗇𝗒𝗋𝖺 𝖺𝗋𝗋𝗂𝗏𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗍 𝖽𝗋𝖺𝗀𝗈𝗇𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗋𝖾𝗍𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗏𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗅𝖾𝗇 𝖽𝗋𝖺𝗀𝗈𝗇 𝖾𝗀𝗀.

warning: slight spoilers for hotd 1x02; change of dialogue; implications of incest; age difference; uncle/niece relationship; English is not my first language; read at your own risk

Daemon watched her with hooded eyes, his large hand clenched around the rough surface of the dragon egg he held in his palms. She sauntered towards his direction with a confidence of a Targaryen meeting another Targaryen—dragon meeting another dragon, monster meeting another monster—gazing into his eyes with fearless foolish abandon when others would’ve averted their gaze away. He wondered if she, like others, could see the madness lurking beneath the purple hue of his irises, the feral gleam of an animal capturing its prey.

“Darling niece,” he said with a mock bow of his head, amusing himself with the dark, swift flash of anger that crossed her face, immediately burying itself beneath a neutral mask. If he hadn’t been searching, he would’ve missed such glorious sight. “It seems that you have decided to grace us with your presence. Tell me, does your father know?”

“I wouldn’t know,” Rhaenyra answered with a proud tilt of her head, stopping a few feet away from him while his brother’s brethren stood behind, breaths held in anticipation. Otto Hightower, in particular, scrutinized their interaction with narrowed eyes, a calculated gleam racing across his countenance. “I came without his consent. I have neither the time or place to ask for permission—all because of you, uncle.”

It’s unfair, Daemon thought, a man half-resigned and half-amused by his fate, knowing without fault or doubt, that the fight was over before it could even begin, all because of a little girl’s appearance. It was unbecoming. It irked him—the way he felt himself caving in and going weak the moment he’d seen her riding on Syrax’s back, wind dancing through her silver hair. Everything faded into an inconsequential background as his attention transfixed itself onto the slight figure of Rhaenyra Targaryen, the newly crowned heir of the realm. How pathetic.

“Shall I apologize for being an inconvenience, then?” He said, a chuckle reverberating his throat. His voice was pitched with playful sentiment, though an ambiguous sound lied beneath.

“Not an inconvenience, uncle,” she was quick to retort, a tantalizing glimpse of a teasing smile playing over her lips, “more like a menace.”

A bark of laughter that he was too slow to prevent escaped from his mouth. Any other poor, bold shmuck, and he would have cut off their tongues. Gradually, his laughter subsided and he was left scrutinizing his niece.

It had been too long since he had last seen her, Daemon realized, as he stared into the face of a girl on the verge of becoming a woman. Nearly a stranger, she exuded the presence of a regal queen—one that Viserys, his own brother and King of the Seven Kingdoms, never truly mastered. She was enchanting as she had always been since she was a child with a cherubic face and an endearingly sweet smile, earning her the title of Realm’s Delight. He almost mourned the six months he lost not witnessing her growth into adulthood (or near it).

“Also, have you heard?” Rhaenyra continued, her tongue switching to that of High Valyrian, a language they often spoke in each other’s presence, regardless of the company present. “I am the Princess of Dragonstone now. You are in my home. In another occasion, I would express my gratitude for keeping my castle warm with your presence”—the smile dancing at the corner of her mouth dropped—“but I’m afraid you’ve overstayed your welcome.”

Bitterness twisted his gut and made the soft lines of his face tighten into harsh creases. Ah, the first appearance of their division since Viserys made her his heir, tearing them apart as they vied for the Iron Throne and become the ruler of the Seven Kingdoms. Why must it be her of all people? Daemon had never known his brother to be pointedly cruel (though that instance with Aemma was another different matter altogether), but the moment Viserys crowned his daughter heir, he had shown Daemon that he was capable of giving out the most wretched orders.

“Overstayed my welcome?” He scoffed, deliberately raising his eyebrows as a pout formed over his lips. “You’re forgetting that you won’t be able to lay claim over Dragonstone until you’re of age, my darling niece.”

“Tell that to the King,” she countered, a wintry chill to her words, as she narrowed her eyes in vexation, “who you have recently angered with your actions.”

His gaze dropped to the dragon egg in his hold, before it flickered back to Rhaenyra. “I don’t see why,” he drawled with careless glee. “This is a day of celebration. Haven’t you heard, dear princess? I’m to be wed.”

He didn’t dare glance at Mysaria behind him. A woman with many talents (and not just in bed), Mysaria was capable of understanding High Valyrian, though she could not speak it. She’d never told him how she knew and he never cared enough to ask. Without a doubt, he would hear about this later, but he remained unworried, enjoying himself with his conversation with his most beloved niece.

A frown tugged the edges of her mouth, eyebrows furrowed as she uttered with a pinch of incredulity, “But you already have a wife.”

“Not one of my choosing,” he snapped, scowling at the though of his so-called wife, one that was forced on him for duty’s sake. A way to tie him down and tame him, his brother must’ve hoped. “If I’ve been given a choice—” the words stopped at the end of his tongue, his eyes lingering on her before they flitted to the egg resting in his hands, swallowing words he would never utter, especially around with her. “It does not matter.”

“Whether it matters or not, uncle,” she started in a hushed whisper. He did not need to look at her to know that her fury had dulled and her eyes had turned into a soft lilac color. Looking at him with pity probably, which he immediately scorned, “what matters to me at the moment is that you’ve taken the egg meant for my brother. It is not yours to steal or take away.”

He took a quick glance at her form and scoffed loudly, lips twisted in derision, though his heart seemed to tug at the sight of the sorrow that lined her face. Grief was an ache that would never go away, even if it faded with time. “Should I not present an egg for my unborn child?” He retorted, though the excuse fell like shattered glass on the floor. Brittle and sharp. He felt Mysaria’s furious gaze at his neck, and yet he continued with practiced flippancy. “Every Targaryen child shared a cradle with a dragon. You did when you were born. My child deserves nothing less.”

Her mouth dropped, and her shoulders slackened. The storm brewing in her eyes quickly died but a new sort of challenge arose within those pretty pale purple gaze. “You are going to be a father?” She asked quietly, but demand coated her tongue, turning her voice sharp.

Her stare bored into his own, waiting in silent anticipation (and might that be apprehension as well?), and Daemon barely parted his lips before he realized that he could no longer continue this farce. Whatever words had sat at the end of his mouth had retreated far down his throat. He thought of his brother and the disappointment and bitterness that swelled in his gaze. He looked over his shoulder to Mysaria, saw only anger and fear when their eyes collided. No trust, no faith; just selfishness and greed.

He turned back to Rhaenyra, and found he could not betray the one person who still held hope for a man that most had despaired as a hopeless cause. No, he could not lie when her eyes implored him to tell the truth, when it looked at him with eyes that still trusted his worth.

He could only answer quietly, “One day.” It felt like surrender.

She paused for a brief moment, cocking her head to the side, her eyebrows twitching, as she gradually realized the meaning under the surface of his words. They continued studying each other, each second more intense than the last, until she finally said in common tongue, “I’m right here, uncle.”

Daemon paused, his heart leaping to his throat. What the fuck had she meant by that, especially after the previous conversation they had?

“The object of your ire—”

Ire? He nearly laughed at her face. What he felt for her was far from ire. Some might even proclaim it to be the opposite. And that in of itself was the problem, wasn’t it? The soft spot that he’d kindled the moment he laid his eyes on her, only growing into dangerous flames of wildfire, was enough to sentence him to death. If his brother had caught wind of his thoughts regarding his daughter, he would’ve ordered for Daemon’s head. Ire was easy; what he felt was more difficult to articulate.

“—the reason you were disinherited,” she continued without hesitance, just a relentless drive of confidence, unaware of the thoughts brewing in his head. The sharpest sword seemed to exist in her eyes as she pierced him with a cold stare. “If you wish to be restored as heir, you’ll need to kill me. So, do it, and be done with all of this bother.”

It startled Daemon that such thought had entered her mind, much more left her lips. Did she not realize that she was one of the few people he could never truly hurt? Did she think so little of him that she thought he would be capable of—he could not even finish that thought, even in his head. He had cursed and raved when he’d learned that she was the new heir to the Iron Throne because deep within himself, where a tiny speck of goodness lived in the blackest of his heart, he knew he would never be able to touch Rhaenyra’s head with the intention to hurt.

He would maim and decapitate people who would think or do so. To even suggest that he would—

He chuckled and shook his head, loosening the silver strands hooked behind his ear and making them fall to the side of his face. “My little dragon,” he said in High Valyrian, voice quiet, for his words were only meant for her ears to hear and not the likes of Otto Cunttower or Ser Crispin Cunt. It did not matter to him that they likely couldn’t understand him; what mattered was that only she could hear, “you are my blood, my flesh. I would burn the world first before I think about hurting you.”

Defenses crumbling, the walls that surrounded her shattered into dusts. “It’s good to know that I still have your support,” she remarked rather meekly, one side of her lips twitching into a faint smile.

Her proclamation shook him though he did his best to hide. What kind of spirit had possessed her to be able to say those words? Much more think that she had lost his adoration for her. Had their distance been that great for such things to poison her mind?

“You have never lost it, my darling princess,” he assured her quietly, mouth pressed into a thin line. The burden on his shoulders seemingly vanishing the moment he’d seen the dying embers in her eyes burn into flickering flames.

Such power she holds over him… pathetic.

Unable to stand the sudden intimacy in the air, he darted one last glance at the egg in his hands, then upwards to the young princess standing in front of him. He turned on his heel—turned his back to the only person who he believed incapable of stabbing him from behind—and walked away, but not before throwing the egg back to her in careless fashion.

A surrender, as if it was any other, but strangely enough, it did not taste like defeat nor did it taste bitter. Rather it filled him with the sweetness much alike Rhaenyra’s scent after she rode through the sky on the back of her beloved dragon. A sweetness he clung onto like a peasant desperately grasping the meager gold coins in his palms. He wondered if she knew what it meant, giving the egg back to her without even brandishing Dark Sister (when moments ago, he was all too ready to slaughter his brother’s men).

He didn’t look back—couldn’t allow himself to—and continued walking pass through his men of Gold Cloaks. Behind him, he heard the swooping sound of large wings beating against the air. He paused, a warring desire to see her fly overcoming him. Rhaenyra with Syrax was always a sight to behold. Not one to miss an opportunity, he tilted his head back, squinting his eyes as he watched Syrax soaring to the sky and disappearing behind thick white clouds.

He’d only seen a glimpse of silver hair before that, too, disappeared.

#rhaenyra x daemon #rhaenyra targaryen #hotd #house of the dragon #daemon targaryen #daemon x rhaenyra #fanfic #fanfiction #daemyra #game of thrones #hotd spoilers #daemon targaryen x rhaenyra targaryen #daenyra #rhaenyra targaryen x daemon targaryen #daemon as a malewife

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mangoshorthand · 1 year

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Before A Fall [Five Hargreeves x F Reader]. Ch 3 (Hard Feelings Part 2)

SUMMARY: As your life begins to grow around Five's, his attitude becomes a little sinister. When does protection become suffocation and when does taking matters into your own hands become betrayal? (weekly updates) Chapter One - Chapter Two - Chapter Three - Chapter Four - Chapter Five - Chapter Six - Chapter Seven - Chapter Eight - Chapter Nine - Chapter Ten - Chapter Eleven - Chapter Twelve

An overheard conversation causes a fight and a visit to Santi's school ends in a sinister suspicion.

Fashy Five below. Proceed at your own risk

Chapter 3: Übermensch

It’s been a long day at work. After lunch with your best friend, you returned to the office to find everyone panicking: one of your firm’s biggest clients unexpectedly decided to jump ship and your boss, Joe, was on the prowl, looking for someone to blame.

When he seemed primed to blame one of your subordinates (who had only worked on a single project with them), you stepped in to defend her.

In pointing out that there were many compound reasons (mostly unrelated to your team) for the client to not renew their contract, it naturally became your fault according to Joe for approaching the issue by ‘bringing problems rather than solutions’.

So when you come in from work that night, frustrated and stressed, all you want is a cuddle and a head massage. You kick off your heels in the hallway and head in the direction of Five’s voice, issuing from the living room. “-not worth you being upset about.” “But they’re mean!” “And I’m telling you: what they think shouldn’t matter to you.” Santi sounds upset. You lurk in the entrance hall, not wanting to break in on this. Even with all the stress of this afternoon, you’ve kept thinking about his sad little voice this morning. You think maybe a talk with his uncle is just what he needs. “There will always be mean people. Has it occurred to you that they’re mean because they’re jealous? Maybe part of them knows you’re special and they’re not. Don’t let them push you around. Fight back, kick the crap out of them.” You’d been intending to head up to the attic and wait for Five there, but this and the timbre of Five’s voice gives you pause. “I don’t have nobody to play with.”

Santi’s voice sounds small. Five sighs, “Well, I’m not going to lie to you, little man. Ours is a lonely life. We’re not like other people.” “…I’m like Alyssa.” A short silence follows. “Sure, Alyssa’s a nice friend," Five answers slowly, "But she’s not on our level. None of them are.” You lean into the door frame, hand against ornately carved dark wood. You can just picture him as he says it. Leaned back in an armchair by the fire, legs crossed. His ‘man-to-man’ tone is particularly off-putting. It’s as if he’s about to offer Santi a cigar and a glass of cognac. “Huh?” “The problem with having our gifts, Santi? They set us apart from other people. We’re stronger, we’re faster. We’re exceptional.”

The word niggles at you, ringing tiny alarm bells. Maybe he’s just phrased it poorly? “What does esseptional mean?” Santi asks. “Exceptional: Extraordinary. Above and beyond normal people. We can do things they can’t do, have lives they could never dream of. We’re just better than them.” There’s a pause now. This is more than poor phrasing. You feel like you should stop this, but there’s just a void where the volition to act might be; to hear the man you love speaking like this…and to a child? It’s chilling. It sends a little rush of anger into your chest, a little spike of adrenaline.

When Five’s voice drifts to you again, he’s contemplative. “Y’know Santi- it could be we’re the next stage. For humans, I mean. But for now it means that we have a lot of responsibility and a lot of burdens to bear.”

You find you share a certain telepathy with Klaus, and today is no different. He’s sensed your mood. So far, your quietness has fallen under Five’s radar, occupied as he is with Santi. For now, it’s just nice to have another adult around to act as a buffer between you. This adult in particular is especially welcome: his personality can fill the absence of at least three others. Tonight, he’s more than usually voluble, perhaps in a deliberate attempt to shield you. Now, he encourages Santi to play with his pad thai. As Five struggles to restore some semblance of table manners, Klaus forms a couple of noodles into a second mustache and pulls a face at him. “Don’t listen to him Santi, he’s trying to stifle our creativity!”

“Yeah Uncle Five, don’t stifle us!” Santi giggles, wearing a shrimp as a nose ring. Klaus looks over at you, in the hope of extorting a smile. You give him one. In that small, but expressive moment, a small conversation passes between you. Feeling better?No, but thanks for this. Removing the shrimp, Five says: “If Mommy comes home to find Santi eating like this then it will be Uncle Five’s balls she puts in a vice, so I’d thank you not to do that.” Santi laughs more at the word balls.

Once Santi is in bed, Klaus makes himself deliberately scarce, sensing a discussion is needed between you even when Five doesn’t. He announces his intent to retire to his studio with odd ceremoniousness, letting you know that the floor is yours before he leaves you and Five alone in the living room. Five himself sits in one of the leather armchairs by the fireplace, holding a glass of scotch in his fireside hand. He looks exactly as you’d imagined him in the overheard conversation, lounging with legs crossed. You're sat on the far couch, almost as far away as the room can divide you. He doesn’t notice your eyes boring into the back of his head. Eventually, he turns his head and smiles, uncrossing his legs and holding out his arm to you in a gesture of supplication. He wants you to walk over, take that hand and maybe sit on his lap. You don’t move.

“We need to talk.”

A shadow crosses his face: concern, confusion and guardedness. You can see the defensiveness building before he even knows what you’re going to say.

“I’m all ears, dear one,” he says, smile rather forced. “Did you mean what you said?” “Huh?” “In here, today: what you said to Santi.” It takes a second for him to place what you’re referring to.. “Oh. Yeah…sure I did.” he looks nonplussed. “Is that a problem?” “You told him to kick the crap out of them.” “And?” “They’re seven years old.” He raises his eyebrows, amused.

“So? I could hold my own in a fight at that age. I had my first mission when I was nine.” “Exactly,” you scoff “and how did that work out for you?” He looks at you darkly and then looks moodily away into the empty fireplace. You continue to stare at him…encouraging Santi to violence wasn’t the worst of it. You try to give voice to what’s particularly worried you. “Do you think your powers give you some sort of…right over people?” “What?” his voice is icy. “You were saying you were the ‘next stage’ for humans or whatever.” He sighs exasperatedly: “Of course it sounds bad if you say it like that.” “You said you were all better than normal people.” “Well,” he shrugs, “we are.” “You think you’re some kind of…Übermensch?” He balks at the word, head whipping round to face you. “Don't be ridiculous." You let out a derisive ‘ha’ of humorless laughter. “Come on, Five. I might be just an unpowered normie but I recognize fascist bullshit when I hear it!” “Fascist?” You don’t give him the time to formulate a response, the blood’s pumping in your head now. Usually, you default to tears in anger but today’s different. “So what about me? Am I on your ‘level’ or am I lower functioning or something?” “Don’t be so dramatic. You know I think you’re smart.” “Do you? Or is it that it’s nice to have me around? Maybe I’m nice to look at, maybe I make you laugh, maybe I make you feel less alone and maybe I’m smart enough but at the end of the day, I’m basically on the level of a labrador you can fuck?” Five slams his glass down and stands up. His hands go into his pockets and his jaw sets. He takes a full ten seconds to get himself under some semblance of control. You can see the unuttered invectives flickering in his eyes. Finally, he speaks in clipped tones. "Funny. Now you mention it, you're certainly not acting like a being capable of higher thought." Your eyes lock in confrontation; both daring each other to step even further over the line. The rage between you is directly proportional to the intensity of your love, its presence making the slung comments all the more sore. Your jaw sets as his chin tilts. When he speaks again, his would-be-casual tone belies the resentment simmering beneath: "I think it’s best if I have an early night and give you a chance to calm down.”He heads for the door, his speed proving his continued anger. As he sweeps through the entrance hall, you yell after him “Okay, Mengele. No need to wait up!”

The next few days were frosty. Though you both took care to play nice in front of Santi, it’s been hard to stop the atmosphere affecting him.

After the fight, all you wanted to do was call Ellie to vent, but you thought better of it after thinking about how she was over your lunch that day. She’s having a hard time of things herself at the moment, having just lost her grandmother, and it wouldn’t be right to bother her with this.

Furthermore, you didn’t want to inflame things further between Five and herself.They seriously butted heads when you were unconscious after your beating courtesy of Michael Monroe.

He’d stayed broodingly at your bedside, sleep deprived and guilt-ridden. His attitude then had been one of snappish, slightly mad intensity. He had no time for Ellie’s feeling of greater claim over you, insisting that her care would be useless beside his ability to reverse time and bring you back from the dead if necessary.

While he might have been technically correct, the vibes he gave off didn't exactly endear him to her. Though they’d been polite to each other since, you didn’t want to solidify that bad first impression by saying something to her that you might later regret. There was nobody else to talk to. Were she here, Lila would have leapt at the chance to trash-talk Five.Klaus was another option, perceptive as he is but, as Five’s brother, you thought his loyalty would always sway too far in his direction.

So, that night, still boiling with rage, you slept in one of the many spare bedrooms, thinking with satisfaction about him sleeping fitfully alone in the attic. Let him wake up panicking with one of his nightmares and see if he feels like ‘the next stage for humans’ then.

On some nights, he wakes brushing imagined ash out of his eyes and panting. It can take him a few minutes to remember that he’s home and safe, no longer having to eat bugs or scavenge expired food from wreckage. So, you soothe him, propped up on your elbow, whispering comfort and stroking his hair. In the worst of these, he shrinks from your touch, wide-pupiled eyes rolling and unseeing; like a rabbit caught in a trap. On other nights still, you’re wrenched from sleep by a screaming, bolt upright figure beside you. Often, these cries are formless, but sometimes he shouts for you, for Dolores or one of his siblings. Then, just as suddenly as he sat up, he’s lying down and asleep again, never truly awake.

He doesn’t remember these episodes when he wakes up, and you stopped telling him about them months ago. The idea that his mind could work in ways of which he is not conscious is unbearable to him. Night terrors, of course, being for lesser mortals than he.

But, as upset as you were, you only spent that first night away from Five’s bed. Your spiteful feelings about his night-time fears faded by the morning, to be replaced by guilt at ever having had them. After your first transports of rage were over, the idea of him waking up alone and terrified was unconscionable to you.

Your love for him is now more fundamental than you’d like: how much easier to be able to punish him, to not care about his terror? You couldn’t leave him alone for long when his own mind betrays him. Over the next few days, you fall into an uneasy truce, contingent on the unspoken agreement that neither of you mention that day again. When he comes to you with a request a few days later, you keep your tone intentionally polite and neutral. “I got a forwarded email from Diego. There’s a meeting at the school I need to go to.” “Oh?” “Yeah. Something about student support for the second grade. It sounded quite urgent. “Alyssa?” “Probably.” “Do you think she’s deteriorated?” He shrugs and sighs, “Unlikely this soon, but I don’t know. Would you be happy to take Santi tonight and get him some dinner?” “Yes. No problem. We’ve been talking about going to the movies anyway.” “Thank you, dear one.” It’s the first time he’s used this endearment since the fight.

The school is a collection of sleek, modern buildings that simply reek of investment. Evidence of recent building work is apparent, with one building still covered entirely in scaffold. Hung from this is a huge lime-green banner, proclaiming: JUICED: X-PANDING YOUNG MINDS. Holbrook Elementary's new planetarium, opening soon!Five follows the trickle of parents through the main entrance and into a hallway that, to him at least, is an assault on the eyes. The walls seem to be made of LED-screen paneling which cycles through content simultaneously. Class information, a school map and exhibitions of student work are replaced every twenty seconds or so with more lime-green. Repeated dozens of times down the hallway in electric blue text is: JUICED- THAT X-TREME TASTE!Though Five has never been in an elementary school (or any school) before, the impression he’d formed through popular culture didn’t quite match up with this. Can a soda company brand a school? This seems too…corporatocratic to be compatible with an educational establishment.

Every so often, the screens give way to vending machines in which JUICED seems to be the only drink available. Fully stocked lime green cans stand stacked behind the perspex in militant uniformity of lines. There are water fountains, Five notes, but they’re the only feature of the gleaming school that looks shabby. As he’s borne along by the people heading for the auditorium, he takes glimpses through windowed doors into classrooms leading off from the hall. He catches glimpses of plush furniture and high-tech solutions: 3D printers, VR headsets and yet more screens. Each student desk has an idling touchscreen integral to the table top; the JUICED logo drifts, slowly ricocheting off the edges of each screen. The auditorium itself is in the same style and, to Five’s mind at least, far too ambitious a space for an inner-city elementary school. It feels more like a conference center. Dozens of hexagonal acoustic panels in JUICED green and blue are placed at regular intervals along the walls. They form pillar-like arrangements with strip-lighting connecting them together. He takes an aisle seat on lecture-hall style seating. The head of the room is walled with more screens like those of the hallways. He can tell their nominal purpose is to aid the presentation of whoever’s speaking, yet their real function is clearly to advertise JUICED at every unoccupied moment. The principal steps up to the microphone’s lectern. “Thank you all for coming to this meeting. I know it was called at very short notice. I’m sorry to have not given you more of a lead up, but this is a very urgent matter." She clears her throat. "As I’m sure you’re aware, we have a second-grade student, Alyssa Johnson, who has been diagnosed with brain cancer. Last week, I’m very sorry to tell you that three more second graders started exhibiting symptoms: Cole Bennet, Joe Fredericks and Robert Smith.”

The hall breaks out into rippling mutters. Five leans forward in his seat.“Over the weekend,” she continues, “their parents informed the school that they have also been diagnosed with glioblastoma. The boys have been identified quickly which means their treatment is able to start early, but-”

Five stands. This can’t go unchallenged.

“You’re saying four second graders have glioblastoma?”

“Sir, could you please reserve your quest-”

He speaks over her.

“Four? In one school? Shit, in one grade? You realize the odds on this?”

He tilts his head, maintaining eye contact with the principal. When she stutters, he raises his hands and points a finger at her.

“How many kids get brain tumors on average? About five thousand a year? And how many of those are glioblastoma? It’s gotta be under fiver percent. Are you telling me that four of those two hundred-fifty kids go to this school? That's one hell of a coincidence.”

The principal seemingly decides that it’s useless to try to suppress this.

“Yes, we are aware that this is a strange cluster, but I can assure you that the possibility of a link is being investigated.

“Investigated how?”

She draws herself up, going into public relations mode.

“Well, I’m happy to say that JUICED co. has affirmed their commitment to Holbrook Elementary in our time of need. They’re taking all the burden of investigation upon themselves and have generously set up a fund to ensure that our sick children get the very best medical-”

Five shakes his head vehemently and steps out into the aisle, the better to pace, hands in his pockets.

“Are you this dumb?”

“Shut your mouth, asshole!” calls a leather-lung from somewhere in the seats. Five ignores him.

“What am I seeing here? JUICED plows money into this school, right? And for what? Advertising? Exclusivity? Just plain old ‘corporate responsibility’?”

He claps a hand to his head and then throws the arm wide.

“You think that’s it? And now, when four kids get cancer they start investigating and paying their medical bills? You think that investigation is going to be transparent?”

The principal sputters, a bit spooked.

“Does this not sound just a tiny bit like ass-covering to you?”

Tag list: (please comment to be added or removed.) @dilfjohhny , @sunsunhe, @w4stedtr4sh,@nevbrooke-555

Masterpost Alternatively, join me on AO3. Here is a link to the whole series

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thotsforvillainrights · 4 months

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HAPPY HOLDAYSSS!

May I request some dad stain with his child during the holidays? Like would he take them to the mall to meet santa or whatnot?

I hope you are going to do everything Christmasy this month and have a great Christmas! ⛄️☃️❄️

(Happy Holidays to you as well Anon! Hoping to brighten your winter season with this rare Dad!Stain content, and it'll likely brighten my winter as well!)

~Dad!Stain and The Mall Santa~

headcanon|scenario|imagine|match-up

-At times it feels like he's better suited to be a mentor rather than a father. He only finds out he can do both at the same time later on down the road. When your daughter was first born (or adopted based on reader), he was likely more distant than you like to admit at first. However, you knew how he'd behave considering the same thing happened when he began falling for you. You remember feeling as though he'd disappear before he'd come back to you. He needed time to connect on his own level to the girl. Give him props considering he managed to navigate his own emotions rather than suppressing them as he originally wanted to do.

-He's a bit of a more strict parent than you. This isn't just because of his identity which he keeps hidden, but also because he's got a less optimistic view on the world around him. In his eyes, the glass is almost always half empty and danger lurks around every single corner. He also spends a bit of time putting his ideology into his kid's head more often than not. She grows to have a good understanding on the way he views the world, but it doesn't stop her from being more optimistic and dreamy than most kids. It's why she still believes in Santa and the Tooth Fairy no matter what he tells her.

-One Christmas in particular she finds out that Santa is going to be at the local mall and she loses her mind. She begs and begs to go meet the big man in person. You're willing to take her, but Chizome is less than pleased. He realizes unfortunately he can't influence either of you to stay behind and he'd rather you not go by yourself during the time of the year when robberies are on a rise. Therefore, he comes to term with the fact he's going to the mall with you two for something as pointless as this.

-Don't get me wrong, although he's a rough man he still manages to spend the holidays with you two every year. He slows his usual movement down in exchange for a little more time together. Perhaps he just wants to feel some hint of normalcy given the fact that he's anything but. Or maybe he just can't stand to miss your little girl smiling at him for the present he picked out just for her. Either way, he makes it clear that he tries sometimes. It's just that stuff like this isn't something he particularly wants to indulge in.

-Whether he admit to it or not, he does feel a tad bit of warmth in that cold heart of his when he sees his little girl meeting the guy...or rather the poor mall employee getting paid minimum wage to have a bunch of little pissy brats bounce on his legs all day long while prattling on their demands for the season. No matter how he would describe it, his daughter fully believes this is the real Santa in front of her. He has to admit, her little eyes sparkling with wonder and that wide smile on her face really can brighten up even the worst of person's day. He was confused when he found himself smiling as she told Santa all about her day and asked about his elves at the north pole. She hardly stopped to mention anything she wanted for Christmas aside from some random Pony toy or whatever. Just meeting him was the highlight of her day.

-Even though he tries to instill reality into her heart, and she doesn't accept it, he still takes a minute to remember she's just a child at the end of the day. Maybe this realization is why he opted to write 'FROM SANTA' on the special present he slid under the tree while she was sleeping? Who knows.

#bnha #mha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #akaguro chizome #chizome akaguro #dad!stain #au #stain bnha #hero killer stain #headcanons

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levmada · 2 years

Note

Omg I Never knew I needed transmasc Levi in my life! This was so good!

I know requests are closed, but as soon as you open would you consider write how transmac Levi and reader got together? Him thinking she wasn’t interested, because another female scout asked her out and she turned her down because she’s only into men and he heard her talking about a guy with a great d. becoming all insecure, when in reality he’s the only man she ever wanted?🥺

there is no possible way that i will project my experiences onto levi in this context not at all! also this took 300 years to write. oops!

summary: Levi wishes he was man enough to be good enough. More selfishly, he wishes he was the only man you ever wanted.

content/warnings: transmasc!Levi, gender dysphoria, insecure levi<3, fluff

wc: ~1.6k

Catching your glance and looking away has never been so routine, and Levi can't decide if that's better or worse than feeling some sort of shame about it.

And his thoughts of you are only encouraged by the conversation going on around him in the mess hall. At his table sits familiar faces; Nanaba and Petra are gossiping.

"She's not into women, remember? Poor Alecia..."

Eld dismisses them. "There's no romance in the military."

"That's not true!" Petra bursts. "I heard she likes Tomas."

"Who doesn't?"

Levi's attention, in a peripheral, background way, has been lurking underneath this stupid gossip for a while, but at the mention of you and this... Tomas, Levi glances. An invisible movement.

Oluo looks aghast. "It's not what a man has, it's what he does with it!" He scoffs in annoyance. "Women..."

"Well he has quite a lot."

The women burst into giggles.

Oluo looks to Levi as his last chance of support.

"Enough chitchat," Levi admonishes, and stands. He isn't hungry anyway.

But the doubts and anxieties invade him mind soon enough.

Tomas? he thinks, wracking his mind to put that name with a face.

He hates to admit it even to himself, but he went down to the records office that evening to know for sure which man you're apparently fawning over.

Out of curiosity, he tells himself.

What a stupid fucking excuse. In the first place, he's being a creep. Second, no matter what clothes he wears or the way he acts or the drugs he takes, he will never match up to the impossible standard he has in his mind of who he should be.

Tomas is, or so says his profile, average height. Less bulky than Levi, with blond hair and eyes like wild grass.

Levi makes it a point not to get too acquainted with newer comrades; fresh blood. He knows they are the ones he is likely to lose, and he doesn’t know Tomas.

He’s thankful on that front, until he isn’t. Despite him being a mystery to Levi not a day ago, he begins to see Tomas everywhere: chatting with his squad, in the mess hall, having average success with the ODM out in the courtyard, and passing in and out the weapons workshops (which tells Levi he is something of a welder).

He and you don’t speak, however. He ought to find that abnormal if it weren’t for the fact that Levi has been avoiding you since he found out about Tomas two weeks ago.

Levi thumps the door to his office shut, and sits heavily in his chair, glancing to his hands, which are tight and raw from how much training he has been conducting lately. To get his mind off things that don’t matter, or shouldn’t.

Small, dainty. He has long fingers, piano-playing ones at best and bony at worst. Yet they are thick by callouses, hardened by war.

He hates them. It has always been impossible not to compare himself in ways that would never occur to others, like the batches of wild hair on men’s hands and arms and chest and legs. Like broad shoulders, and hard pecs. Like the way they walk and the way they sit and how think, talk, breathe—

And he will never be those things; he can only imitate them. It feels like punching through obsidian, flipping gravity, naming colors no one has ever seen just to live.

His chest rises with a small, shaken breath. He would do so much not to feel like a living, breathing mistake for every beat of his heart. When can he take off his shirt and not feel so much fucking shame. When won't hiding be the best solution?

All of this rolls around in his head as he showers off for the day, because in order to get through these things both nude and in light, he has to be in his head.

He can’t bind his chest in order to sleep, either, so he shucks on a t-shirt, a pair of briefs, and trousers. Fitting for autumn’s end, and he likes the way they feel.

He’ll try to sleep tonight, he decides.

As he lowers the lantern flame upon his desk, however, a knock thunks the door. “Er, Levi, can I talk to you?”

Shit, it’s you.

Levi freezes where he stands, deliberating in rapid speed what to do. He could ignore you. What you want to talk about is obviously personal since you didn’t use his title...

Shit. Well, he ignores Hange all the time despite the light in his office being on (even though they always bust in anyway).

But, your friendship has been so fragile as of late. If he doesn’t reach for your outstretched hand now, he doubts you’ll reach out again, and where would Levi get up the guts to tell you frankly, not only how he feels, but about himself?

Fucking nowhere, that’s the answer.

At the door, pinched open, you’re a despondent little thing tapping your foot nervously, arms crossed. When the door creaks, you look up with widening eyes.

“Hi,” you say.

“Hey.”

Levi doesn’t move the door from its few-inch opening, and instead looks down at the floor. His heart, meanwhile, picks up a pound. Why didn’t he put on a jacket or something?

“Are you actually going to bed?” You smile meaningfully.

“Don’t sound so surprised,” he grumbles.

“...Sorry,” he says after some time. “I’m sorry for ignoring you.”

Your fiddling with your fingers stops.

He thinks you're surprised. It’s not that he doesn’t think he’s in the wrong, but you’re better off keeping this conversation short. He’s not the man you think he is.

“...Why’re we having this conversation through a door?” you ask. “Are you busy?”

“I wouldn’t be busy if I was going to sleep.”

You blow a small raspberry. “Okay. I wanted to see what’s going on with you, if I did something that pissed you off, or—”

“You didn’t. You just… made some things clear for me,” he manages, excruciatingly awkward. Could this exchange get any worse?—Won’t you just leave already?

“Can I come in?” you ask, soft.

If Levi pushed you away now, it's possible you will be gone forever. That would be it. Forget his selfish desires; your friendship won't be the same until he can be forward with you, and his tongue is too big for his mouth.

He steps away from the mouth of the doorway and shuts it with a gentle thunk behind you. His shoulders hunch.

You look at him, and look and look.

“Oh. You’re—”

Disgusted, struck, he crosses his arms across his chest. “You know who and what I am. Don’t get it wrong.”

“I know,” you say, with a gentleness Levi can’t decide should repel him away or lure him in. “Levi.”

He turns away and promptly grabs a suit jacket, any suit jacket, and pulls it across his shoulders, to hide himself away. No one should have to see this, but you seem… Not hurt, not disgusted, not even upset. The surprise has faded away. You look. Fine. Fine with him. This.

“I can leave,” you offer. “But I don’t want to.”

“You don’t have anything better to do…?”

After this shitshow, he assumes you would—to shower, refill your fucking inkwell or anything else.

You drift towards him. “Of course not! You know I still like you, I mean, I like you, um…”

“W-What?” His voice is small. His heart does an enormous flip and roll, and by the way you suddenly scrunch your nose and stammer off, should he…?

Like that, the spell breaks.

“I’m sorry.” You drift back. “I’ll just go. Fuck, I’m so sorry—”

He snags your shoulder, wrenching you close before you can even pin down a method of escape. If escape is what you want and you pull away the next moment, he won't stop you—

But you don't. You stand there, very close but not touching. He doesn't know what, how to say, except, "It doesn't matter to you. Stay."

A statement which ends in the high note of a question.

"Can I kiss you?" you blurt out. It's that easy to just ask?

Levi's heart soars to his head, he's so surprised. Had he ever ventured into the realm of leaning against you, even?—As comrades or friends or whatever he wanted to believe you shared?

You want to kiss me? he wants to ask, but no words leave his open mouth.

He steps forward instead, almost tripping on air, and looks up at you with uncertainty. In those precious few moments, one moment, he has to force himself to think, fleetingly, that this is some joke or mistake on your part, he's acting irrational—

And then you kiss him, and his train of thought derails to a white-hot feeling at the back of his ribcage demanding he melt against you. Let go. She cares for you. Let go.

He lets go, eyes squinting then closing as he moves his lips to your slow, almost careful, rhythm. You are new to this. You don't want to fuck this up as much as he doesn't, too.

"S'okay?" Your breath hits his lips, and his hand slides around the nape of your neck as an answer.

Don't go away, he wants to say. He kisses you harder. Shivers wrack his spine as your hands slide around to his waist, and awareness slams back into him, how much he hates his wide hips and slim waist, and so he reluctantly pulls away.

"You're the only man I ever wanted," you manage, searching his eyes like there is something beyond them even he doesn't know about.

Relief sags his shoulders down—that, and a mix of adrenaline only desire spent in isolation can produce. Isolation and want are the antithesis of each other.

"I hoped so," he croaks in return, eyes dropping down to your lips. "Stay."

And stay, in more ways than one, you would.

| levi masterlist | main masterlist |

#trans character written by trans writer #levi x reader fluff #levi x gender neutral reader #levi x you #levi x reader #levi ackerman x you #levi ackerman fluff #levi ackerman x female reader #levi ackerman x reader #aot fluff #trans levi

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fueledpurelybyspite · 8 months

Text

Different uses for different needles

summary

It's now three in the morning, and Xavier finally has the piercing he'd been thinking about for the past three weeks and a very self-satisfied girlfriend.

'Watch out Wens, you'll have to chase girls away from me with a bat now' He jokingly tells her.

He expects jealousy, instead Wednesday still looks like a cat who got the cream, amusement giving her face a sinister allure.

'Wouldn't be the first time'

Xavier almost asks, he really does. But this moment is so precious he doesn't feel like he needs to know what poor girl incurred in Wednesday's wrath before.

He takes her in his arms from behind, resting his temple on the top of her head.

'Thank you, Wens. I love it'

'Don't let it go to your head, I only did it because that's the only way I can legally stab you'

Headcanon that Xavier eventually picks up tattooing and becomes well known in the school as the person to go to for beautiful designs specially made for all kinds of outcasts.

Wednesday is the only person he tattoos for free. What the others don't know, however, is that to pay back the favor Wednesday decides to do his piercings

Sirens have thick skin.

Their scales are hard to get through with the needle. And if that weren't enough, he has to be careful of what inks he uses, lest he accidentally damages the protective layer they develop in their early childhood in order to protect them from the frigid currents of their native waters.

It's tricky, maddening work. But Xavier still feels that it's worth it when he can get the mighty Kraken curled around Kent's arm to open his jaws and swallow the tiny ship still healing on his wrist.

'That's so awesome, dude' His friend's comment is filled with wonder and youthful bravado as he twists his neck to take a better look at his new ink, laughing like a kid who's managed to sneak an early peak of his Christmas presents.

Xavier grins back at him even as his focus fades and both the fresh and previous tattoos go still, the tiny ship once again reappearing on Kent's skin.

'Interesting' Wednesday's voice is low and distracted as her eyes trail the drop of crimson blood running from his upper arm to his elbow, gaze transfixed on it with eerie curiosity. 'Now we know for a fact that your drawings can interact with each other, even on skin'

She's perched on the arm of one of the couches they've recently managed to put in the Nightshades' library, back perfectly straight and a heavy notebook balanced on her knee.

Theoretically speaking, it would be easier to do this in his shed, what with not having to sneak inks and needles inside the school and everything. But after the cops came bursting through the door and messed everything up, Xavier finds himself even more protective of that space than he already was.

Ironic, really, that even after everything that happened Wednesday is the only one who's granted access.

'Yo, Addams, remind me again why you're here' Kent turns in her direction, half playful and half annoyed.

Rather than answering, Wednesday keeps her attention on the blood weeping from the fresh wound before lifting her gaze to his, black eyes blown wide and the chilling hint of a smile at the corner of her lips.

If he weren't so enamored by the sight of her, Xavier would laugh at Kent's visible shudder.

'Jesus, you're sick' is the last thing his friend says before getting up and rushedly going for the door.

He stops only a second to shout from halfway up the stairs. 'I gave the money to Ajax earlier, by the way, he said he'll bring it by your room later'

'Thanks, man' Xavier answers, but he's distracted. His nightmarish girl has shifted her attention on him, cruel smile and crueler eyes alight with the closest thing to genuine excitement she ever allows herself to show.

It's not unusual for her to sit through his tattooing sessions. Never talking, never speaking, never judging or engaging. She just stays, and she watches. A dangerous little shadow lurking in the corner of his vision at all times.

'I have another idea for you, wanna see?' He always feels like he needs to lower his voice when he's talking to her. Maybe it's instinct, maybe it's learned behavior, like using exclusively hushed tones the moment you step into a church.

One of her brows arches high on her disgustingly pretty face. Asking is below her, and so she never does. It's Xavier that comes up with designs for her, that takes time out of his school work and already fucked up sleep schedule to work on them until he deems them worthy.

He fumbles to find his sketchbook, the good one with the black leather cover that he exclusively uses for her. He skips through pages and pages of agonizing studies of her hands, the faint hint of different facial expressions, mugs of bitter coffee, and even an embarrassing recreation of the black cat costume she wore during her first time competing for the Poe cup.

He doesn't bother hiding it. Sure, he's kinda always a bit scared for his life, but it's not like his pining is a secret. Even someone as emotionally dense as Wednesday has picked up on it by this point.

Finally, he stops to show her the few simple letters he dreams of marking into her skin. he knows it's a bold move, and a very, very risky one. Because this time the design it's not simply about Wednesday, but in some way it's about him too, about the way he sees her, anyway. What she is to him.

He's half expecting her to break a few of his knuckles for the sheer audacity. Instead, she just looks at him intrigued and faintly surprised, her head tilted slightly to the side as she asks him 'Where?'

He smiles brightly at her and tells her when to come by.

He feels a little euphoric, having Wednesday lie down on the cheap mattress in his shed in the dead of night, shirt off and hands over her chest for modesty as she waits for him to bring a needle to her moonlight-pale skin.

They are breaking so many rules simultaneously that he doesn't even know exactly what their punishment would be if they were found out.

'I half expected you to propose to do a third one to keep this two company' She says, brushing one of the two ravens caught in flight just under each of her collarbones with the tip o her finger. 'Then they would officially become an unkindness'

Xavier's face stretches in a lopsided grin, throwing her a glance as he readies everything he needs.

'Ravens mate for life' He looks around making sure the fresh needle is within reach 'wouldn't want it to get crowded. Although-' He applies the stencil on her skin with careful, precise movements. A playful glint coming forth in his eyes. ' I guess some little ones are bound to come around, sooner or later-Ah, fuckin-Wens!'

She kicks him in the side so hard it sends him falling on his ass over a few cans of paint scattered on the ground. Laughing only makes the pain worst, and yet he can't bring himself to stop, wiping tears from his eyes with latex-covered fingers.

'I'm going to castrate you with my bare teeth'

'Hey, don't threaten me with a good time'

This time Xavier manages to dodge her blow, barely.

'Alright, alright. I'm done fucking around, sorry' But he's still laughing and she's still scowling at him.

No matter, Wednesday lies back down with the promise of violence in her eyes, eyeing the needles with newfound interest. But then she huffs and relaxes, looking like someone who's about to get a spa treatment instead of a tiny needle stabbed in their sternum a thousand times.

'You know the drill, this might hurt a little' Xavier says, focused and ready to get to work.

'I'm counting on it'

'Xavier? Xavier-Wake up'

He comes back to reality with a jolt, the Wednesday in his dreams replaced with the Wednesday sitting astride his legs, with hair falling out of her braids and smeared dark makeup under her wide eyes. Her stoic expression does very little to hide her restlessness as she scans his face in open judgment, like he's the crazy one for sleeping, in his room, in the middle of the goddamned night.

Xavier wants to laugh, and yell at her, and maybe kiss her for good measure. Is she wearing his shirt?

'You look a mess'

'You're pretty like a girl'

He frowns. There's too much to unpack in that sentence for his two-and-a-half am brain.

'Addams, what. the. fuck.'

Xavier couldn't agree more with his roommate at the moment. Ajax's exhausted grunt comes from all the way across the room as he fumbles with the blanket to cover his ears.

Wednesday throws his sprawled form a condescending glance as she answers him. 'You do realize that me being here means Enid has the room all to herself, right?'

A beat of silence as Ajax registers her words, then before Xavier can bat an eye the covers are on the ground and his friend has a hand on the door handle, the other rushedly fixing his beanie over his snakes.

'Thanks, Wednesday!'

'Whatever, no debauchery on my side of the room'

Xavier looks up at her with a knowing smirk. 'Boy, has that ship sailed'

'do you want to die?'

He doesn't know how people can avoid someone like Wednesday. She makes him laugh so much, with her quick wit and dry humor, and (mostly) empty threats.

He knows his eyes are too fond for her liking when he answers her. 'What do you want?

'I want to pierce your ear'

Aaand now he's confused again, awesome. Xavier imagines that for Wednesday everyday conversations must feel like talking with a bunch of obtuse apes. 'You, wait-what?'

'did you hit your head? I said-'

'No, no, I got it. But why?'

For a second Wednesday's eyes shift on the phone on his nightstand, then she lowers her voice, bringing her face even closer to his.

'I've seen you look at pictures of it on your phone- It's a kind way to say she'gone through his phone, he knows. Wednesday wouldn't be caught dead openly looking at a tecnology device in public, not even someone else's-, right here' She touches a point high on the shell of his left ear. 'I want to do it. I let you do tattoos on me all the time'

'You let me?' She's the only one who he draws and works for free, and yet, somehow, in her head, he's the priviledged one for getting the honor of marking her skin.

He hates himself a bit because, deep down, he agrees with her. Goddamnit.

'Of course'

Wednesday twists on top of him to get something out of her bag. When she turns there's a brand new piercing kit in one of her hands. A tiny, beautiful, stainless steel ring in the other.

Xavier sits up to examine the items. He smiles warmly up at her, his batshit crazy, unpredictable, weirdly thoughtful girl. Who wants to play it cool but got so excited about finding a way to return his devotion to her that she couldn't wait for the morning to come.

I love you, he thinks. And it catches him so off guard his brain shuts down for a moment. He didn't expect this revelation to come to him in such a mundane moment, not after all the dangerous, life-threatening events they've been through together. And yet it's right there, clear as day. An impossibly familiar truth, lurking in the back of his mind just waiting for the right moment to strike.

I love you, he thinks. But it's the middle of the night and they're just kids. Plus, Wednesday has a very sharp needle in her hands that he'd rather not have stabbed in his eye.

So instead Xavier shakes his head without dropping her gaze, smiles, and tells her 'Free of charge?'

Wednesday rolls her eyes, exasperated, and he knows he's done for.

There's a surprising amount of blood for such a small wound. Still, the hole is clean and the process quick and painless.

It's now three in the morning, and Xavier finally has the piercing he'd been thinking about for the past three weeks and a very self-satisfied girlfriend.

'Watch out Wens, you'll have to chase girls away from me with a bat now' He jokingly tells her.

He expects jealousy, instead Wednesday still looks like a cat who got the cream, amusement giving her face a sinister allure.

'Wouldn't be the first time'

Xavier almost asks, he really does. But this moment is so precious he doesn't feel like he needs to know what poor girl incurred in Wednesday's wrath before.

He takes her in his arms from behind, resting his temple on the top of her head.

'Thank you, Wens. I love it'

'Don't let it go to your head, I only did it because that's the only way I can legally stab you'

He looks at her reflection in the mirror as one of the ravens flies from her collarbone to the word freshly tattooed on her skin, perching on the first of the four gothic capital letters.

On her sternum, right in the center, the ultimate proof of his devotion, his claim on her looks back at him.

'Muse'.

#wednesday x xavier #xavier thorpe #wavier #addams family #wenthorpe #wenvier #wednesday 2022 #enid sinclair #ajax petropolus #wednesday #enid sinclair x ajax petropolus

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lindszeppelin · 2 months

Note

the anons about resenting Austin. I get it, but I think we need to give him some grace. Austin to me seems very naive to some extent and a little to trusting of people. I am not trying to talk down to him , but it does seem that way. I also feel that he may have issues with being alone. He is basically by himself in California from what I see. Both his Dad and sister dont live in there anymore. When you're lonely sometimes it makes you lower your standards and tolerate shit that you typically wont. Austin has also talked about how being lonely can get to you as well back when he was doing his Elvis press. And when he did you can tell it hurt. So i think it something he genuinely struggles with. Kaia saw that and preyed on that. But that clearly has back fired on her considering the girl has to do the devil's work to make it seems like her and Austin are the "real deal". Austin will wake up one day and be out of this and we will see him with his special someone. We gotta give it time. We also gotta stop letting these shippers get to us too. Majority of them are young girls who never really been in a relationship like that. They live through Kaia and project and see themselves in her, which explains why they get so worked up about them as a couple. Getting angry when weird shit gets called out and do not get me going about the obsession they with him putting a ring on it. They legit act like its their relationship you are insulting. This to shall pass and Austin will find his queen and watch his energy be like night and day vs how he is with Kaia. When a man is in love, you know, especially when he sees her as his wife. If Austin wanted to fuck with Kaia like that we would know and there will be nothing to prove like these shippers be out here trying to do, its why they make everything about her. A fully grown ass 30 something year old man and they act like his life revolves around a girl who is a decade younger than him. Sorry for the long ass message i just wanted to get this out lol

hell yes anon this and all of this are exactly my sentiments. we do need to give Austin grace. i hate to sound like a broken record with that one, but i do say it all the time because it's true. he is human like everyone else, and as humans we are subject to the traumas we have been dealt with in life and we also sometimes make poor decisions. but if we don't fail then we will never learn, and we will never know what true success looks like if we don't make a lot of mistakes first. so i agree 100%. just give it time and we gotta let things play out. i can understand why some people are annoyed or upset with Austin, but give him love and support his career. he is such a nice person, and people like him are perfect people to prey upon by crocodiles lurking in the water that is hollywood y'know.

#lindsay's anon asks

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mygwenchan · 1 year

Text

STRAY THOUGHTS WHILE WATCHING LOVE SYNDROME III - EP7

Another week, another episode of unhinged silliness and kink! And judging by the preview I've seen, this episode is gonna get spicy~ ✨

And we're starting off with a barbecue, my German heart is happy (I really need to clean my grill for that Angrillen tradition!)

Yes, J'Belle, tell us all the gossip~ Oh, a new name! Poom it is? Well, he goes right onto my Love Syndrome/Unforgotten Night character chart. I'm making one rn, cause maybe maybe I'll be able to remember who is friends with whom and who is an ex-boyfriend and... let's just say, I've only started yesterday and it's already a mess lol

Jealous Itt is jealous and Day loves it! In fact, Day loves it so much, he's willing to make the ultimate sacrifice. Oh my... Day ate well that night

J'Belle, not the sausage reference please OMG 🤣

Barely 10 minutes into the episode and it's already sexy time again~ Yeah, this ep is giving. Imagine if all amnesia cases could be solved with some good old humping in the sheets. The doctors would be jobless lol

On a side note: Is that Frank's real tattoo or a sticker? Hmm... I think I need to take a closer look. For science (Update: Yep, it's a real tattoo ^^)

And suddenly we're in a serious conversation about love vs using someone to satisfy their needs. Well, it is an important question Itt is asking here

"I want to remember..." Omg Day?! Are you finally coming around? Are you finally being nice to Itt? "...why did I even date a silly person like you" Dude... why are you playing us like this 😩 The sadistic tendencies are strong in this one

New drinking game just dropped: Every time someone eats cake, you have to drink a shot!

That fortune teller is my new spirit animal "Hit him with a stick and his memory will return" WHY?! 😂 (also, I have a feeling there was a raunchy joke in there that got lost in translation. Something something long hard sticks...)

(Itt smacking the memories back into Day, a reference image)

Oh no! There is a lurking shadow behind Day and Itt that will cause trouble? Who is it? Who keeps calling Itt from an unknown number? I need to know!

Aha! So the creepy guy is actually Pee! But did they really name the kid "Pee"? Really? Or is this another translation error. For the actors and character's sake, I really hope it's an error...

Anyway... Suddenly there's a flashback and guns and drama! So Pee is mafia as well or had a crush on Itt and wanted to get rid of Day or? I'm confused 😅

Flashback time again~ This time it's Itt bike racing. He actually used to be a little badass. Now he's a softie who only eats cake. See kids, this is what love does to a man lol

Day really needs to learn how to chill. Maybe he should pick up yoga or makramee or something

Noooo! Itt don't run onto the race track! Don't be stupid now, boy! ...And of course he is stupid, ah... 🤦‍♀️ Tbh Itt kind of deserved that punch

Awkward silence while Itt storms off and everyone else just stands around. Yeah, I've been in that situation before. It's super uncomfortable when friends of yours are a couple and they fight in front of you. Best strategy in my opinion is to quietly escape to the loo (the bathroom, an introverts best friend 🤗)

Also, another drinking game just dropped: Every time a group of guys stands awkwardly around Day or Itt, you have to drink two shots! Bonus round, if there's cake involved

Omg is Day going to cry?! He totally looks like he's going to cry. Aww, poor baby... Nope, never mind. Day decided that he'd rather break his arm again than to shed a single manly tear. Oh my

Ohhhh! Night is back, my sweet boy 🥰 He's so cute

And Night and Gear are once again the ones who have to fix Itt's and Day's relationship *le sigh*

"If you feel tired, how about running away?" Oh Night, I like you! Yes, Itt should totally go on a vacation, that boy really needs a break. Day can deal with his anger issues alone for all I care

And Itt is gone~ Can I just say that I love how both Gear and Night are so angry at Day? You go tell him, boys! Hehe (even though it looks like Gear almost get's drowned by Day in the next ep, it's still worth it 😌)

Alright, that's it for this episode! Next episode we'll get a new love interest for Itt, Day will have another temper tantrum and almost kills his brother-in-law and Night will be a lil cutie as always. So stay tuned~

#i think i'm actually getting used to frank's wig lol #love syndrome #love syndrome iii #love syndrome the series #gwen's watchlist #midnight thoughts

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rendangnana · 1 year

Text

In Between

Pairing: BTS x Reader

Genre: Fantasy| Spirit AU

Word count: 1.3k

Warnings: TBA (For now none)

Join tag list !(pm/send in an ask/reply/reblog)

BEGINNING

Magic,— something you won’t believe if you haven’t see it by your own eyes and it would also be the same with ghost, spirit and supernatural things or even believing in a life after death. Something you won’t believe if you haven’t experience it by yourself. Theres a lot of doubt in human if you didn’t feel it, it won’t be something real for you.

And I once personally didn’t believe in these things. I saw death everyday and I never experienced anything related from the ‘other’ side. I worked as a mortuary make up artist, I basically live among the death. And even though I don't believe in ghost and their friends I like to watch something horror or scary, sometimes also read some creepy pasta works, because it makes my adrenaline go crazy. Love that feeling.

"Hey! We got new corpse in. Murder victim, badly wounded on torso and multiple scars all around the body, also broken hand. Male, 23. A John Doe by the way." A man came with the corpse cover with a white cloth over his body on the bed. "Okay, thank you.”

I open the cover, it reveal a man with pale skin.

'Yeah,He is dead. Everyone came dead here'

'What a waste his face is like a sculpture. Totally my type.’

I examined his scar and everything, where to fix the part that is broken or open. So he will look good as he is alive, presentable at least.

Dead men tell no story, but their dead body tell.

'He got a nice body'

I touched that nice soon fade line of eight pack rectus abdominis that he have. 'What kind of workout he did ? He could be a body builder or a fighter. He really took care of his body.’ I examined his body more and found a lot of old scars. ‘Maybe a fighter’

I wrote all the parts that need to be FIX and started to do my job. I resew the scars he got from his murderer and autopsy. Then I put my best skill to cover any damage and discolor skin, fill any holes and did natural make up and hairstyle too. He already looks good without any makeup even when he is dead but just to make his face doesn't look too dead.

I applied my brush and drew on his face, while admiring some of his facial features. He have a mole under his mouth and couples on his cheeks. His lips are small there’s a cut,—maybe from a punch. He have a lot of piercing holes and also the things that really catch my attention was his sleeve tattoos.

'Is he some kind of gang member ? Maybe that's why he died this way'

'Seriously, what a waste’

All done, just need to put a good suits on him. But since he is a John Doe he have no family nor relatives, so he won’t need a clothes for a time. He won't be buried until someone claim to know him and take him, and if no one come for him within one month he will be just buried and no ceremony.

'Poor him’

The clock on the wall tell the time, '12 o'clock' .

Right on schedule, I clean all the tools and get ready to go home. Turning off the lights and lock the door.

The road was empty, wind blowing making my body chill. I wish I could buy a car, it would be easier to go home at night.

Sleep. I need sleep. Already arrived at my condo, washed my self and ready to go to sleep. HEAVEN. My bed, soft and full of pillows and fluffies. I jump to the pool of softness and fell a sleep soon.

————————————————————————————————————————

A loud sound woke me up from my slumber, 'What's that sound ?'

Someone is lurking in the kitchen, is it a burglar ? I'm kinda confused, my room is on 10th floor, what kind of burglar went to 10th floor. A lunatic?

I took the room broom thats lying next to my bedroom door.

'I hope theres only one person'

'Should I call the police?'

'Let's check it first' Maybe this was a stupid decision, if it's really a burglar who have weapon with them, definitely I will die with broom in my hand.

I sneaked to the kitchen finding my refrigerator door open. And theres someone looking for something inside it. I cannot see him properly since he was behind the refrigerator door.

'Is he only here for food?'

'Why bother to went up here, to 10th floor???'

'Should I knock him out ?'

'Maybe, here's goes nothing'

I screamed while putting my broom up to hit him. But the broom went through him.

"What the hell?!" He said.

THE BROOM WENT THROUGH?

“W-what the hell are you??" I said still looking at my broom confused. ‘Is this broom broke ?’

"Well... you can see me ?" He asked.

Why was he asking such a weird question? Of course I can see him clearly even with only the moon light shining through him.

Through

Through….

"What the hell in seagull name are you??? Why everything goes through you ???" I started to panic. All of these horror and thriller movies watching experience weren’t helping at all when I see something as real as this. Am I still dreaming ? But the pinched from my finger now felt real.

"Are you a GHOST??"

He click his tongue and wink. "That's right!" Then he gulped the milk he took from my refrigerator. "Ah I miss this taste.”

Wait, he looks familiar. That face, the face that I just saw today.

He is the John Doe that I just fixed.

"Aren't you the one at my mortuary? The murder victim? Aren’t you dead?"

"Yeah thats right, still dead last time I checked. And thank you for fixing my handsome face by the way." He cheers his milk carton.

"Uhmm.. your case. How did you died?” Curiosity bite you as you wondered of his body state at the morgue.

"Ah thats right, that fucker. Argh I fucking hate this." He ruffled his long hair with a blue highlight at the end of it.

"Are by any chance you were a gang member?"

"Almost right.” He chuckled “I am actually an assassins. And my fucking trusted friend killed me on the action because someone from the rival of someone who hired me paid him to do so. Piece of shit, shouldn't had take him with me." He crushed the empty milk carton.

“Okay…. And why are you here? Are you going to haunt me? Posses me? ” I asked still can't believe I saw a ghost in front of me.

"Nah, I saw you fix me and because I cannot go to heaven nor hell, I thought why not I live with her. And this is a nice place you got here." He walk to the sitting area and took his place.

He saw me fix him. Then he must have saw all of those touching and admiring everything about him. Oh gosh this is embarrassing. I never thought I will see the ghost of someone I fix. I hope the others didn't saw what I did to them, nothing bad I did though just embarrassing.

"Aren't you supposed to be scared of me? Or are you those ghost hunter freak or you see ghost everyday because you work at the death peoples home ?”

"Well I was a bit scared when that broom went through you.” The hold on the broom getting closer to me. “And I never saw a ghost before, you are the first one.”

'Why did I talk with a ghost?'

'Why you just realize this??’

"I see. What's your name darling?”

'Darling? Gosh this ghost is something’

"Uhm, its y/n. Yours ?”

"Ah yes you only know me as the John Doe, it's Jungkook. And can you tell your boyfriend to stop glaring me.”

'Boyfriend? I don't have a boyfriend.'

'Did he mean theres another ghost here ?’

"I don't have..”

"You should fucking go from here you heaven trash." Suddenly a sound came from behind me. A low voice, a man.

'What is happening ?'

Could you guess who is it ? 😌

#bts fanfiction #thebtswritersclub #bts fic #bts fanfic #magic au #bts series #jungkook x reader #taehyung x y/n #jimin x reader #jhope x reader #namjoon x reader #yoongi x reader #jin x reader #spirit au #supernatural

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brandnewhuman · 2 years

Text

HIS FAVORITE GAME

Pairings: Michael Myers (any version) x reader

Tw: none, does Michael counts as a tw? I think yes.

Summary: Michael showing once again how terrifyingly good he is at what he does. I can't for the life of me describe places. Anyhow, I wanted to try and write the big bastard even tho I'm not sure I like how this came out.

A/N: my only working brain cell was having a stroke trying to write this.

He wasn't far. You could almost feel his emotionless stare set on your back, he was lurking and waiting for you to slip up and make some kind of mistake for him to use against you. You felt goosebumps run all over your body, the adrenaline pumping through your system was keeping you on alert for any sound or movement from him.

Both of you made sure of concealing as much as possible any sound that could make your position known, though you had the feeling that he has already spotted you minutes ago. But you're not one that gives up, you know it and he does too. Everything was dark now that he had wisely turned off every light, leaving only the natural lights of the night from outside filtering through the windows do a poor job in helping you telling apart what was just a shadow and what was really the shape (pun intended) of someone, making this game of cat and mouse much more difficult for you than for the man who has grown used to take advantage of the dark.

Your back was flat against the end of wall of the corridor that lead to the kitchen. Trying to control your breaths at the best of your capacities while cautiously poking your head out enough to check the only part of living room you could see from there, trying to decide if it was a good idea to try and hide there. You knew that either way you had to move otherwise he will find you, so you decided head to the kitchen that was on your right.

Finally gathering the courage to separate your back from the surface of the wall you started to walk towards the kitchen without backwards in case he decided to attempt a surprise attack from behind.

When you reached the kitchen you felt your heart freeze at the sound of heavy footsteps. Your didn't even dared to breath while you kept snapping your head one way to other trying to make out from where he was coming from.

You swiftly moved and decided that your safest bet was trying to hide under the kitchen table and hope for the best. Your heart was pounding so hard you were sure it was going to give away your hiding spot eventually. You tried to cheer yourself up by thinking that if he didn't bother to be more silent while walking it was because he didn't knew you were there.

Any trace of hope vanished, though, the moment a pair of black boots entered your field of view. You watched with wide eyes and almost anticipation every careful and calculated step he took.

He was eyeing everything around him, you knew it because of his slow movements and numerous pauses he took everytime. His gaze scanning everything in search of some type of clue of your whereabouts.

Little did you know that he was already aware of your presence there. He was merely amusing you and himself by keeping acting oblivious of where you were. A sadistic pleasure in keeping your hopes up and making you think you could win against him or have any chance from the beginning.

He decide to make it even funnier for himself, making you think he just left so you could feel safe enough to coming out from under the table. He used a particularly dark corner of the kitchen to make hide himself, gaining the surprise element to use against you.

You finally left out a breath you didn't even knew you holding while scrambling yourself up as quiet as possible. Your back unknowingly facing the lurking figure, while you tried to think your next move.

Silently as ever michael slowly made his way towards you and before you could even put in action your body to exit the room, his hands were already trapping you against his chest. The right one over your mouth to muffle your shriek of surprise and the left arm wrapped around your body, turning every attempt to distance yourself useless.

"Fuck! Goddammit it's not fair!! You turned all the fucking lights off just because I was about to win!" You huffed freeing yourself from Michael's grip, once the scare from the sneaky stunt he pulled on you worn off. After switching on the kitchen light you turned around to face him, you were ready to bet your life that he was smirking under that mask. His whole demeanor telling you how proud of himself he was feeling.

You rolled your eyes when he tilted his head in amusement as a way to accuse you of being a sore loser. To be fair the last few times you had been able to outsmart the boogeyman himself in hide and seek he was the first one to get almost offended about it, ignoring you for hours.

"I'm not a sore loser. You're the one that doesn't play nice, plus I could've died from a heart attack" You pouted while approaching him and craning your neck to look at his "face".

He was now watching you expectantly, waiting for you to give him his well-earned prize.

"OKAY OKAY... jeez, you only have one thing on your mind don't you?" You faked annoyance while moving away from him to go get what he wanted.

You knew that giving michael a whole bag of sweets was probably not the brightest idea you've ever had but that was the only way to bribe him into humouring you in doing this type of things. It has become a some sort of way to spend quality time together doing something that both of you could find entertaining. The only requirements he ever made was having a prize to win, since obviously killing you like he usually does when doing this type of things was not an option he opted for sweets.

In the end it was a win win situation, he got to practice his tactics for hunting down victims while getting sweets from doing it right, and you got to have some fun with your boyfriend.

#slashers #slasher community #slasher fandom #horror movies #slasher fanfiction #michael myers #halloween #rz halloween #rz michael myers #peepaw michael myers #peepaw myers #halloween kills #slasher x reader #michael myers x reader #og michael myers #slasher movies #slasher imagines #michael myers fanfic

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electrasev5nwrites · 1 year

Text

Ninja Daily: Vapors 23

"Don't be such a brat, Hatake," Tsunade practically snarled when the man finally reported two hours late for the full mission briefing. Anko had given her report and left over an hour ago, but Aiko had waited. It was easiest to find her sensei by lurking around places he eventually had to be.

Aiko and poor Sasuke did their best to be invisible without actually employing any genjutsu while Tsunade raged, cursing like a sailor interspersed with the occasional shriek and the thud of whatever she could grab hitting walls. (The use of chakra sometimes draws the attention of predators larger than oneself, a tip from Konoha's shinobi handbook page 147).

Shizune merely demonstrated her hard-won immunity to Tsunade's frightening atmosphere by rolling her eyes and walking right out of the office. The Hokage pointed unerringly at Aiko. She cringed. "If that brat is still a Chuunin, I'll eat my fucking bra! She's getting promoted and that's final. We need all the Jounin we can get."

Kakashi slumped back against the wall and waved his hand at the thirteen year olds looking spectacularly uncomfortable. "Maa, why don't you two go get drinks and let the grown-ups talk?"

Sasuke outright bolted, making it halfway to the stairs before Tsunade could call out angrily for them to stop. Aiko lingered a little, torn between the desire to flee the woman throwing paperweights through walls and her curiosity. The conversation was about her, after all.

"With all due respect Hokage-sama," Kakashi began in a not-particularly-respectful way, "That decision is mine to make. Not yours. It has always been the purview of an instructor to determine their apprentice ready to move up."

"I'm your Hokage," she snarled, looking downright feral. "You're being ridiculous. It's not a death sentence to get an early promotion. You did yourself, for crap's sake and you know damn well that I can go over your head with this."

Kakashi sighed and straightened, giving her a deadpan expression that indicated he was not impressed by her argument. "Are you really sure you don't want the kid to leave?" he tried one more time. Then he shrugged. "Fine."

'I'm not a kid,' Aiko quietly pouted. She did her best not to let the thought show on her face but almost certainly failed.

"I know that she isn't ready for this promotion in part because I wasn't, so don't tell me that I'm being a hypocrite," Kakashi droned, giving Aiko an uncharacteristically sharp look. She was wise enough to look sheepish. "And no. You can't go over my head. When I agreed to take an apprentice, I had stipulations. Granted, I think that the Sandaime was just humoring me, but he signed them. They're all nice and legal." He visibly dismissed Tsunade, looking idly up at the ceiling as if it held all the answers to the universe's questions. The woman was red-faced and practically shaking with fury.

'She doesn't deal well with having her authority challenged, does she?' Aiko mused. 'It may have been better if I weren't here for this conversation. This… is probably a little embarrassing for her.'

She wasn't entirely sure why her sensei was so insistent about stopping her promotion to Jounin. Aiko didn't mind it, though. Kakashi was one of the few people left in Konoha that she really cared about. She respected Tsunade, but she would support Kakashi over her. He almost certainly had a good reason for blocking her promotion. Besides, there weren't many perks to that promotion. She would probably be removed from Kakashi's team and sent on more dangerous missions.

'Actually, that might be the problem,' Aiko noted. 'Sensei is a little protective. In his weird little way.'

"Whenever you get your filing system figured out, you can read them yourself. If that's too much trouble, I suppose I could go get my copy. I made certain to use small words when I drafted the document, so you should be able to get through it even if Shizune is still irritated with you for acting like a spoiled child." Aiko tried to melt into the floor. He was definitely provoking her on purpose.

'The man is kinda nuts.'

Nuts or not, once again Kakashi-sensei left triumphant. The victory was slightly marred by the fact that he had been assigned a mission out of the village that, as Tsunade sneered, Aiko would not be able to accompany him on because she did not have Jounin clearance. 'Petty,' Aiko sighed. "Hey, sensei," she started quietly. (Her ears were still ringing.) "Dinner? My treat. I wanted to talk to you about an idea I had involving my chakra chains."

"Shishou."

Aiko blinked, a bit confused. "Uh, what?"

"Kakashi-shishou. I'm not your genin sensei anymore and I'm probably not going to take another team. So you're my apprentice." The words were delivered in an off-hand manner, but she was a bit stunned. It was a generous offer (not that he'd phrased it as an offer, the bastard).

Sure, she had technically been classified as his apprentice so that he could take a genin team. But Aiko had thought that was a legal thing. He'd never asked her to refer to him as anything other than 'sensei'.

Aiko felt her eyes begin to water in a very dignified, grown-up way. She honestly hadn't expected that. But his possessiveness made a lot of sense when she thought about it. He had just lost three students in the course of a month—one to the shinigami, one out of the goddamn country with a very powerful but inattentive master, and the third to Tsunade. In some way, he probably thought Tsunade was trying to take away his last student.

Still, mitigating factors or not, it was pretty damn prestigious to be taken as an apprentice instead of just a student.

Aiko sniffled, wiping at her face and giving him a winning smile. "Hai, shishou!"

He eyed her suspiciously. "I'm not going out to dinner with you if you're going to cry," he warned seriously.

She shook her head. "No, I just blinked and an eyelash got in my eye. I'm totally cool, promise."

"Right." He rolled his eye and set off down the street. "I think I want barbeque," he mused out loud.

His apprentice gracefully accepted the subject change and followed him to a restaurant she knew well—it was one that Ino liked. 'You know… If I'm his apprentice now, maybe I should try to emulate him.' Aiko did her best not to snicker. It was traditional, after all. A shishou was a guide for behavior and habits as well as ninjutsu—not just a teacher, but a role model. Plus… it would be really amusing. 'Who am I to spurn tradition?'

As it turned out, Kakashi-shishou did think that her idea was plausible. She had noticed that her chakra chains were heavily tinged with her water-natured chakra affinity, and wondered if it was possible to use nature transformations with them. As they were currently, her chains were just really large and versatile weapons—good for tying people or bashing them to death, and very difficult to break. (To her knowledge they were unbreakable, but it was stupid to assume that there wasn't a way just because she didn't know of it).

Since she had already gone through the trouble of learning lightning transformation and could now coerce her coils into generating lightning-natured chakra, well… Aiko resisted the urge to cackle as best as she could while she explained that she wanted to be able to electrocute with her chains since they would be excellent conductors.

"That is overkill," her shishou commented crisply, for once looking mostly engaged in the conversation. "Who do you plan on fighting, the sage of six paths? I think I can help you with it." He fixed her with a stern glare. "If you electrocute me again, however…." His voice trailed off.

"I will try to resist the urge," she grumbled, a little embarrassed. On the other side of the booth, a man she suspected was an Akimichi stifled what seemed to be a laugh.

She hadn't conducted even initial experimentation yet, because it had seemed like a stupid idea to try before asking someone who she knew had gone through the experience of making his own lightning natured technique. Frankly, she wasn't particularly eager to electrocute herself. After Kakashi returned from his mission and she managed to lure him out of his apartment with food (she was a good cook and he never seemed to have anything in his apartment), she tried for the first time under his supervision at training ground seven.

Now that she had done it, it was almost criminally easy to manifest her chakra chains again. She pointedly made only three—one to experiment on, and the other two as a control group. Her shishou had pointed out that it would be important to know if it was possible to change just one chain to lightning nature or if they would all change.

All three of them fizzled out of existence when she tried to change just one. Aiko blinked stupidly, not quite understanding what had happened.

"I wondered about that," Kakashi commented lazily. "Uzumaki chakra chains only seem to manifest in members with water-natured chakra. I don't think you'll be able to have lightning natured chains."

Aiko scowled in thought, displeased at the development. "But does that mean that I can't attach something like a chakra thread of another nature around it?" she asked after a long silence. Her teacher gave her a strange look. She hurried to demonstrate by manifesting a string and flipping her coils. "See, I can already do that. Remember that I used to think that the chakra chains worked along the same lines as chakra thread for puppeteering? I worked with those until I thought I was going to be sick."

Kakashi slapped a gloved palm to his forehead and shook his head, snickering.

"What?" she asked, offended.

"That is the most ridiculously wasteful technique I have ever heard of," he pointed out, sounding amused.

Aiko snorted in disbelief. "Yeah, whatever. Chakra threads use nothing." She demonstrated by splitting the line she was manipulating into six and wiggling it. He stilled, a strange look on his face.

"I've never seen anyone outside of Suna use more than one at once."

She raised an eyebrow skeptically. "Why? It's not that hard, and the control required isn't even up to introductory medical techniques."

"It's not a matter of difficulty per say," he started, indicating that she should maintain the strings while he walked around and checked how nuanced her control was. "The payoff isn't generally worth it. For anyone other than a puppet master, conventional wisdom says that there's no benefit to using more than one at once. For most shinobi chakra threads are an ace in the hole for when they've lost their weapons or something similar. Believe it or not, they do require a fair bit of chakra for a rookie, and by the time most shinobi get to be Chuunin they already have specialties that are much more effective than anything they could do with threads like those."

"So… my idea is worthless?" she pouted. At least they were still pretty—when she charged them with lightning natured chakra, her strings positively glittered like threads of gold.

Her shishou shook his head. "I don't think so. There's a chance that you could make your idea work, but the threads would have to be ridiculously long to be useful," he cautioned. "In order for them to wrap around the threads enough times that you can be sure they'll touch whoever you'll be touching with them, they'll have to be easily three times the length of the chains."

"That's easy enough," she muttered, trying it out.

It wasn't that easy. When she pooled the threads out long enough to be useful at all, she found that control was becoming an issue after all.

She sat cross-legged on the ground with a thump, quietly manipulating them as best as she could to figure out her limitations.

"Well, it's an interesting idea," Kakashi sighed, pulling out his book. "But it will take far more control than you currently have to make it useful at all. Remember, not only will you have to simultaneously maintain two techniques of different chakra natures, but you'll have to be able to independently control them at much larger distances than you're used to."

"In other words, chakra control exercises are next," she said miserably, unfolding her legs to sit like a rag doll, heels digging into the warm soil. She had never been prone to neglecting the basics, but it was depressing to have to work on control when she had something she wanted to develop that was infinitely more interesting.

Sasuke sat down across from Karin in the hospital break room, clutching onto a cup of coffee for dear life. Somehow, he hadn't expected that he would have to do the same type of grunt work other medic trainees did when he accepted Tsunade's training offer.

That had been a mistake.

Karin delicately backed up in her chair so that she wasn't in the direct path of her fellow trainee's glower. "So, long day?" she inquired. She knew it had been. Apparently, a new group of Academy trainees had gone through their first real taijutsu lesson (when they began sparring instead of just learning kata), and the waiting room had been filled with skinny eight year olds covered in bruises and scrapes. The initial injuries were actually an intentional part of the lesson—a way for Academy teachers to ensure that students knew how to get treatment at the hospital.

It was also unfortunately a training exercise for beginning medics who were qualified to treat minor injuries but had no real experience working on adjusting to foreign chakra systems and practicing their bedside manner.

Tsunade had given hilariously little training in bedside mannerisms, Karin had noted while Sasuke bulldozed through a list of jumpy kids with a white-knuckled grip on his clipboard and an expression that indicated he was considering using it to bludgeon his way to freedom. She, on the other hand, had been given strict rules and expectations about how she talked to patients.

With her temper, she had already been wrestling with that requirement much more than the actual act of healing, which she had a talent for. Two days ago some dirty old man had grabbed at her leg when she was getting a needle off the cart for an injection. It had been a tactical error. She had smiled sweetly without comment and accidentally failed to find his vein eighteen times.

She had been roundly chewed out. Something about stabbing civilians when proper procedure would be to refer them to hospital security and file sexual harassment charges?

"I had three patients who were apparently brutalized by the same Hyuuga," he deadpanned. "I'm going to be coaxing open tenketsu in my dreams."

Karin winced. "Hanabi?"

Dark eyes glared at her over his coffee. "That's her name? Little monster." She snorted, hiding her amusement at the undue hatred for a pre-genin. If he hadn't ended up having to clean up after Hanabi, Sasuke probably wouldn't have cared one way or another if the girl had decided to break two wrists a day during recess in between tea parties with pink plastic cups.

"I get the impression that she isn't as gentle as Hinata," Karin settled for diplomatically. That was an understatement. From what she understood, Hanabi was a horrible little brat and personally she thought that Hinata would be much better off if the girl hadn't been born. But Hinata was her friend, and there was something of an unspoken rule of friendship that included not telling girls that you'd prefer if their beloved little sister had never existed.

'Even when that brat is the reason they branded Hinata like a cow,' she fumed, pulling her yoghurt out of the fridge and moodily stabbing through the tin lid. The assessment might not have been fair—it wasn't Hanabi who had made the claim that by not even making a good showing in the Tournament she had embarrassed her family. But it was Hanabi who beat Hinata down in a spar with unnecessary prejudice the day before they put the caged bird seal on Hinata. Karin had been in the hospital (changing bedpans and being grumpy about it) when Hinata came in, silently crying after apparently having a painful reaction to her new tattoo. She was both glad that she didn't belong to a clan like that and absolutely fucking livid that they had done that to such a gentle girl. Hinata had explained that she was only having so much trouble because the seal was only meant to be placed on children, as if that somehow mitigated the horror of what the Hyuuga did to their own kin.

Now that she'd been reminded, Karin promised herself that she would check in on Hinata after she got off work. The poor girl had been stressed lately. She had suffered even worse nerves than usual after the sealing, which Karin didn't blame her for. It was a pretty resounding proof that her family didn't value her.

In addition to her family troubles and self esteem issues, Hinata was also dealing with disruption in her routine. Kurenai was the last Jounin sensei out of their circle of acquaintances to return from her emergency duties. An Academy class had been cycled through condensed training in the months since the invasion and had been deployed to fill the genin ranks, leaving more experienced genin to take Chuunin promotions (some of them were even prepared for those promotions). Unfortunately, that also meant that unprepared Chuunin had been promoted to Jounin to fill those ranks. Really, the only group that hadn't seen a sudden increase in mission injuries were the genin (both in-village and those attached to elite Jounin sensei).

She found the girl with Shino on training grounds 8, doing dodging exercises while he apparently worked on his throwing. Karin leaned against a tree with one foot bent up against the trunk and waited, hands shoved inside the pockets of her dress for protection from the chill. It was a windy day, and she eventually conceded defeat and tied her hair back while she waited for her friend to finish training for the day. After a few minutes, the boy paused in his shuriken assault long enough to give her an inscrutable look.

"Hinata. Do you wish to stop for the day?"

She startled like a frightened rabbit, catching the last weapon between her fingertips instead of dodging it. "W-what?"

He inclined his head towards Karin, shoving his hands inside his coat. He was probably cold too, Karin noted with an amused sniff and a hidden smile. Hinata swiveled around almost enough for a normal human to move Karin into their range of vision and visibly relaxed. "Oh! Karin-chan," she breathed.

"Yo." Karin waved before shoving her hand back into her pockets quickly. "If you're done, I make killer hot chocolate."

Shino frowned. "What does it kill? Is it poisoned? Who is the target?"

Karin's jaw dropped and she gave him a bizarre look before noting that Hinata looked equally interested in the answer. 'Ugh, ninja can be so hopeless,' she groaned. "Look, it's just an expression alright? It means that it's really good and I was inviting her back to my house. You're welcome to come too, if you'd like," she added politely. She was pretty sure he wasn't interested, but she didn't want to snub him either.

"Oh," they both said almost in unison. Hinata looked relieved, but her teammate looked disappointed. Karin heaved a sigh.

"Anyway, if you're not done I can wait," she offered, pushing at her glasses and frowning at the way they were fogging up. Hinata tilted her chin towards her teammate and began fiddling with her fingers. Karin pulled off her glasses and wiped them on her shirt before putting them back on just in time to see Shino look faintly amused.

"I think that it would be optimal for the two of us to be done with training for the day. I have yet to eat dinner, and I am certain that you are hungry as well, Hinata." He reached out and plucked his shuriken from Hinata's hand, then strode over to the far side of the clearing and began gathering his weaponry. "Thank you for the invitation, Karin-san, but I am expected at home." She nodded in acknowledgment and the girls hustled to assist him in picking weaponry. Hinata easily found the most, but Karin felt her addition of six kunai, two shuriken and a flat blade she didn't recognize was a respectable contribution to the clean-up for a practice she hadn't been part of.

"Thank you, Hinata, Karin-san." Shino gave a short bow.

Karin bowed in return, quickly followed by Hinata. "Good night, Shino-san."

"Good night, Shino-kun!" Hinata eeped when Karin grabbed at her arm and began hustling across the training grounds, burrowing into her coat for protection against the wind.

"Come on, it is way too cold to linger out here." She pulled the other girl into a run, crossing the dirt paths that led to downtown with top haste. They slowed down when they made it into Konoha proper where the tall buildings provided a wind break, and Karin gave a long stretch and yawn. "What do you think about making tekkamaki?"

As it turned out, they ran into Aiko at the grocery store, who must have been thinking of dinner as well. She was staring at the chocolate section with a vaguely stupid look on her face, so Karin took the opportunity to tug on one of her curls. She laughed in the taller redhead's face when she whirled around, barely avoiding whacking Hinata with her basket. Aiko gave Karin a dirty look. "Oh. It's you," she said flatly, grabbing a chocolate bar off the shelf at random and stuffing it into her empty basket. "Hello, Hinata. How are you?"

While Hinata muttered a greeting of some sort and fidgeted, Karin briskly informed her cousin that they were having tekkamaki and strode off in search of sushi-grade tuna. She was less than surprised when Aiko got a thoughtful expression and declared that she wanted to make sweet potato hosumaki as well. Aiko had a strange fondness for vegetables that Karin would rather leave alone. At least it wasn't thrice-damned ramen.

The three girls collected everything they needed, Hinata awkwardly lugging a large bottle of the watermelon flavored water she liked to drink in the morning, and waved at a bored-looking Nara Shikamaru following around a woman dressed in tan who must be his mother (she had a similar nose and a no-nonsense attitude that manifested in the way she shoved heavy items in the basket he was carrying) before heading out the door.

While they had gone to the closest grocery store, there was still quite a walk back to the Uzumaki residence. There were very few civilian-ran establishments in the largely shinobi areas of town, so it was probably lucky that they were all in excellent physical condition. Still, Karin was relieved when they reached the garden out front.

Karin somehow managed to pry her cold fingers out from under her bag, tucking it against her chest with her open arm, and nudged open the door with a foot. She flounced in first, leaving her sandals in a messy heap and slipping into her glittery red house shoes before tripping into the house and dumping the large paper sack in her arms onto the table. Hinata and Aiko exchanged amused glances, pushing their shoes up much more neatly against the sides of the room before Aiko dug out her own blue slippers (a fluffy affair with sparkly green turtles that Naruto had ripped off cheap necklaces and sewn on as a joke gift). Hinata was such a frequent houseguest in the last month that Karin had actually gone and purchased her a personal pair of slippers (Karin didn't believe in communal shoes, they were the devil's work). Of course, since Karin had picked them, they didn't much suit Hinata at all, but she gamely slipped them on and somehow managed to look pleased as punch about wearing hot pink shoes. She was probably just grateful to feel welcome somewhere. Judging by how often she slept over, Karin was really certain that all was not well at the Hyuuga home.

"I think I have this pretty well in hand," Aiko called, striding into the kitchen and flipping on the lights. "The kitchen is a bit too small for three cooks." Karin shrugged and barely managed to rescue an orange from rolling off the table—she wasn't much of a cook anyways.

"Fine by me, but tell me when you're almost done so I can start hot chocolate. Hey, Hinata, want to put in a movie?" Karin punched on the television and cast an inquiring look at her friend.

"Oh, yum," Aiko mumbled to herself, clattering around for a cutting board.

Hinata looked between the two before gracefully picking her way into the living room. The cat sleeping in the exact center of the couch opened one eye sleepily to glare at her and then closed it again. "Ano, where are the movies?"

"I think most of them are in my room," Aiko called absentmindedly. Karin rolled her eyes. Aiko had the weird habit of dragging the movies into her bedroom. There wasn't a television in there, but she did have nearly floor-to-ceiling shelves where she stored a downright frightening amount of books. The top left shelf was all movies in perfect alphabetical order, pushed back against the wall so that none of them stuck out. Books were arranged similarly below. Her cousin was pretty weird sometimes. Who cared if their books and movies were in alphabetical order? Karin was much more likely to have a pile of her ten favorites by her bedside, coffee table, and by the television.

Nonetheless, she led her friend into Aiko's room because she knew Hinata would be uncomfortable going into someone's bedroom alone. Hinata's eyes widened at the ridiculous display of books. "I've never heard of most of these," she said quietly, running her gaze over the titles. "The little red book of writing?" Hinata squinted. "…historical fashion? Icha Icha Make- eep!" Hinata pulled her hands back, flushing bright red. "Ah, she has an eclectic collection," the girl practically squeaked, turning her attention back to the movies and wrapping her arms around her body.

Karin snorted. "You're telling me," she groused. "I think she wrote like a third of them. The ones with the unlabeled covers—see, they're just dimestore books, like for notes and sketches and stuff. She won't let me read them though. I bet they're really bad." She poked at a green and purple hard cover.

"I'm sure they're good," Hinata said rather loyally, grabbing one of the few titles she was familiar with off the top shelf. Karin leaned in to check the title and was relieved to see it was actually one of the ones she had purchased—a historical drama about a samurai and the girl he married. Spoiler- she was an undercover kunoichi who had been hired to ensure he failed, but it all worked out when she defected.

"Nice," she approved. In the front room she lit the cherry blossom scented tea candles that Aiko kept on tea saucers for some reason and pulled out extra pillows and blankets from the hall cupboard.

"Karin, if you want to start hot chocolate now would be a good time," Aiko called from the other room.

"Oh, crap. Coming!" Karin hustled in, Hinata following at her heels like a duckling. The brunette settled at the kitchen table politely and flipped through the book sitting there- a guide to native flora and fauna with medicinal uses that Karin had left out the night before.

"Did you know that Sasuke signed Tsunade's summoning contract?" Karin half-asked, half informed while she pulled open the cupboard and withdrew measuring cups and a pot. She'd found that out on break. Hinata sounded politely interested, but Aiko made a genuinely baffled face at the news.

"It seems really early in his apprenticeship to start that, doesn't it?" She scraped perfectly seasoned rice out of the pot and into a bowl and started cutting dried nori, moving to the side to give Karin room to work.

Karin shrugged philosophically, measuring out milk and cocoa and dumping them directly into the pan with a glob of butter. "I dunno, maybe Tsunade is taking advantage of how much chakra he has. It's nothing on you or Naruto, but he's no slouch." She critically eyed the mixture and then added extra sugar with a faintly guilty expression and a none-too-subtle poke at her flat stomach.

"I don't know much about summoning contracts," Hinata ventured, flipping a page and leaning down to examine an illustration more closely. Her face tightened. "My honored father has one, but only Clan Heads sign it. I…. I was under the impression that they required large amounts of chakra to utilize, so Karin-chan's suggestion seems sound."

Karin stepped over the elephant in the room that trumpeted around and stomped on peanuts at the reminder that Hinata would never be signing that contract. "Pass the dark chocolate, would you?" She began shaving off tiny curls to garnish the whipped topping while the cocoa began to simmer.

"I got a letter from Naruto today postmarked last week," Aiko changed the subject. Hinata looked up none too subtly, and Karin stifled a grin. That girl practically jumped half a foot every time someone said his name.

"Oh?" Hinata prodded, unusually aggressive.

Aiko gave her an amused glance, pausing in spooning hot rice out onto nori. "Yes, his training is going well from what I gather. He isn't allowed to tell me where he's been or anything, but the letter was sent from Tea Country of all the places. Apparently his shishou taught him a genjutsu."

"That's interesting," Hinata commented thoughtfully. "I didn't know that Naruto-san had a knack for genjutsu."

Aiko barked a surprised laugh. "He doesn't, not at all," she confided conspiratorially, giving downright frightening attention to precisely arranging raw tuna slices. "I bet it was hard work for him. In fact, I don't think he ever figured out that Iruka-sensei's Big Head no Jutsu is actually a genjutsu. I used to get him out of bed sometimes with an olfactory genjutsu of cookies baking. The look on his face, every time..."

Hinata giggled. "That's a little bit unkind, isn't it?" She splayed a hand out on the table as if examining her chipped nail polish.

"Nah," the girl dismissed, squeezing the bamboo roller and unfolding it to reveal another perfectly formed roll. She set it on the plate with the others and began working on the last roll. Karin gave her cousin a weird look.

"Are we really going to eat that much?" she asked a bit skeptically.

Aiko furrowed her brow and looked at the food she'd made as if she was a bit surprised to see it. "I guess I'm cooking on auto," she said after a pause. Then she shrugged. "Whatever we don't eat will go in bento tomorrow, I suppose. You'll take one too, right Hinata?"

Karin made a face. "Second day tuna?"

Her cousin made a face at her. "We'll eat those first, okay? Ugh, nag nag nag." She stuck her tongue out at the shorter girl. Hinata stifled a giggle while Aiko changed the subject to ask Karin about medical chakra control exercises. She didn't know anyone quite like the Uzumaki family. She wasn't entirely sure if that was a tragedy or good for Konoha's relatively peaceful atmosphere. If she didn't manage to marry Naruto, she was going to have to marry Karin instead so that she could stay here forever.

#vapors #uzumaki aiko #electrasev5n #ninja daily #fanfiction #naruto fanfiction

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